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jonathansthickthighs · 27 days

Text

Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, stalking, smut, unprotected sex, alternative universe (no curses), daddy kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: hello! this is my first time posting anything here. if anyone reads this, i hope you enjoy. if you do, i might continue it :)

Not edited!

You were uncertain how you ended up with your legs on each side of your head as this beast of a man you didn’t even know thrust deeply into you. You weren’t even aware you were this flexible before this. However, you weren’t complaining as you felt the tip of his thick, hard member collide with your g-spot repeatedly. He had made you reach your peak three times by now and it was evident that stopping wasn’t in his plans. His grunts and moans only fueled your horniness, hearing a man make some noise during intimacy could rile any woman up.

“This tight lil’ pussy is driving me crazy, sweetheart. Fuck— you gonna let me feel you come on me again? Lemme feel you flutter around my cock, baby, please.” He begged into your ear, his low, raspy voice sending waves of pleasure all over your body. This man knew what he was doing to you.

You moaned loudly, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “I need it, Toji! Don’t fucking stop!”

“That’s right. Say my fuckin’ name, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” You thought this to be impossible, but he started drilling you harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull and forcing you to succumb into the delightful sensation that his large prick brought you. The room was filled with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass repeatedly, your juices pooling on the sheets of the bed. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his dick, announcing the arrival of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna come, Toji!” You gasped as you squeezed his cock, making him shudder. You were forcing him to come.

“Holy s-shit.” He cursed as you milked his cock. Long, thick spurts of semen started painting your walls white, making your combined juices overflow from your abused hole. He stilled inside your pussy as he finished riding his high, laying his head on your breasts once he was done.

You thought it was over, until you felt him starting to suckled on your nipples.

“Lemme take you again, sweetheart.” He groaned, his voice muffled by your breasts. Jesus, does this man have unlimited energy? He flipped you over onto your stomach on a swift motion, as if you weighed nothing to him. Somehow, you still had enough strength to keep yourself up on your hands and knees. He spread your ass cheeks open and watched as his seed dripped out of your cunt slowly, like it was seducing him into sliding himself inside you once more. He hissed, feeling his dick get painfully hard again.

“Gods, what a beautiful sight.” Toji grasped his shaft, stroking it a few times before pressing the tip against your entrance, forcing a moan out of you. “You want it, you slut? Wanna feel daddy’s dick splitting you open again?”

You weren’t experienced with men.

In fact, this was your very first one night stand. You wanted to experience for once in your life what it meant to be free and to have control over your own body, so when you saw Toji looking directly at you from across the bar, you knew he was going to be the one fucking your brains out tonight.

You had decided to go out with your girl friends to decompress from work when one of them pointed out the dark haired, exquisite looking man that had been staring at you the entire night. You didn’t know if it was the fact that a man that looked like that had been eyeing you up this whole time or if you were just tipsy, but you got a sudden burst of confidence that pushed you to go talk to him.

He seemed extremely pleased you approached him, excited even. He was noticeably older than you, but not old enough to be your father. You had never paid much attention to men his age, but something about this absolute hunk of a man pulled you to him. Looking at him up close made you nervous, the confidence you felt earlier, slowly turning into shyness. This man was definitely the most handsome man you’ve laid your eyes on. Judging by the smirk on his face he enjoyed your shyness. He thought it was cute.

To your surprise you had a very fluid, enjoyable conversation. He knew how to have a good time. You could feel a sincere interest coming from him, he wanted to get to truly know you, asking you questions about yourself, your likes, your hobbies and your life in general.

It was a shame you only wanted to fuck him.

At this point of your life you weren’t looking for a relationship. You had just gotten out of a five year relationship with your first ever boyfriend a few months ago and you simply weren’t ready to get into another commitment just yet. You had been with you first boyfriend since you were teenagers and you never got to explore what it felt like to be young and single. You wanted to learn how to be alone.

So you cut Toji short politely inviting him over to your place and he didn’t even hesitate to agree.

This is how to ended up with this man pounding you sore pussy from behind like a madman.

You moaned wantonly as he spanked your ass red, your ass jiggled with each harsh thrust. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. The bes’ one I’ve ever felt.” Toji was so pussy drunk, he could barely form words.

You looked over your shoulder wanting to see his expression and god was the sight gorgeous. His mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed, his body dripping with sweat. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into yours. You both had the same expression.

“Oh, don’t you give me that slutty face. I’m not gonna last.” Toji grunted, delivering another slap to your ass. You smirked and let out a moan as you started pushing your ass towards him, trying to meet his thrusts. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.

“You fuckin’ whore. You want me to fill you up with my cum again don’t you?” He said between a moan and a chuckle. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

“I want it so bad, daddy. Please empty your balls inside me!” Your fifth orgasm was approaching as well.

“Take it!” He bottomed out releasing his seed straight into your womb, making you scream as your own orgasm took over squirting all over his crotch and thighs. Your legs finally giving up as you crashed onto the bed.

Toji pulled out slowly, groaning at the sensitivity. He laid down besides you, admiring your sweaty, red face. He thought you looked the most beautiful like this. “How about we take a shower together, sweetheart?”

So you did and you let him spend the night.

After all, how bad could it be?

The next morning you woke up with a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You almost got scared until you remembered what happened last night, you could not believe you actually had sex with a stranger. You covered your mouth as you giggled quietly in disbelief. You knew this wasn’t going to become something frequent, you weren’t the type to sleep around, but you had to admit it had been a great experience and you were glad it had been with a man as experienced as Toji. It probably wouldn’t have worked out as well if it wasn’t for him, so you had to give him some credit.

Speaking of which, you could feel Toji stirring awake. You turned around to look at him and you were received with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Morning.” You replied back feeling your shyness take over.

“Don’t get shy with me now, I saw your entire being last night.” He joked, giving your cheek a sweet kiss. Are men usually this affectionate after causal sex?

You blushed from embarrassment, he really did see your entire being. You started to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your arm. “Where you going so early, baby? Let me keep you warm for a little longer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Toji. If I don’t get up now, I’m gonna be late for work!” You answered giving him a courteous smile. You weren’t certain why he was being so doting, you didn’t know if this was normal behavior after a one night stand. What you did know was that, that’s all you wanted it to be. Simply a night of good, casual sex with a hot guy you met at a bar. A man you would never have to see again and to you it was safe to assume that Toji was the type of man looking for the same thing as you.

“I see. Well, maybe we could grab some coffee and I can drop you off at work. How does that sound?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Lunch?” He insisted.

“Toji—“ He cuts you off by pressing his scarred lips to yours, tangling his fingers with your hair.

He pulled away, his finger still holding your hair. “Baby, don’t worry. Just give me your number and we can schedule something for when you’re available.”

You felt odd. How can you get out of this situation? You hated this, you’ve never been in a position like this before. You felt helpless as you hesitantly agreed to give him your number. The weirdest part being that he never let go of your hair until you entered you contact information into his phone. It felt threatening in a way, even if his grip on you was loose.

He let go of your hair when you handed him his phone back. “Perfect. Let me just call you real quick so you can save my number.” Good thing you didn’t give him a fake number. “I’ll get going then. I’ll text you later, sweetheart.” Toji smirked, pecking your lips before walking out of them room.

You let out a sigh of relief once you heard your front door slam closed. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until now. You were feeling exasperated, you were already praying he never contacted you.

Maybe last night was a mistake.

Toji was a troubled man. He knew it. The people around him knew it.

They say no one is born evil, but from the moment he gained conscious he doesn’t remember a moment when he was truly good and quite frankly, he preferred it stayed that way. He had been raised around pain and suffering. He was brought into this world to become an assassin from a young age. He was brought to inflict nothing but agony and that’s all he knew how to do. He doesn’t remember a single moment of happiness from his early childhood to his adult life. He was made to believe he didn’t deserved love and he believe it because he never did anything worthy of it. He knew he wasn’t a good man.

He knew he wasn’t a good man and that’s why he didn’t feel guilty about all the times he followed you as you walked back to your place from work.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, something changed deep within him. There was a feeling he’d never felt before and it felt… good?

You first saw Toji at that bar, but Toji?

Oh, Toji first saw you at least two months before that.

Rain was pouring over him, but he could care less because what he was witnessing right now was perhaps the most breathtaking, heart-bursting sight in his entire existence. It was you. The answer to all his problems just walked past him in the torrential rain. He was amazed that not even the rain could conceal your beautiful face, he could see it perfectly clear. You were wearing some type of uniform that clung to your body thanks to the weather. Toji couldn’t help but admire the shape of your body, instantly getting hard at the sight of your nipples hardening from the cold rain under your white shirt. You had only walked by him for a few seconds, but to him it felt like an eternity. It was almost as if you were walking in slow motion. In spite of being distracted by your beauty, he was still an extremely observant man and was able to descry the name of the company you worked for on the logo planted on your shirt.

Toji wasn’t a good man. That’s why he stalks you any time he can, to him he’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s why loves breaking into your place and stealing your clothes and anything he can get his hands on that will make him feel closer to you. He particularly loves laying on your bed and smelling your sheets, your scent was simply divine. That’s why he tugs on his cock any time he caught sight of you. That’s why he would drag any man that dared approach you —hell, even look at you— to an empty alley and beat them to a pulp without a care for their sorry lives. He was an assassin, it’s all he knew how to do.

Toji wasn’t a good man, but he wanted to be for you.

He couldn’t stand hiding behind your shadow any longer, he was growing desperate. He felt pathetic, this feeling was alien to him and he hated it. He needed you to notice him.

Imagine his luck when he saw you walk into the bar that night. Toji was over the moon. Both of you were finally at the same place at the same time and he didn’t even need to fake a scenario for it to occur.

Toji was having an internal battle with himself, trying to find a way to approach you where you wouldn’t find him creepy. You were with your friends which made it harder for him to come up with a way to swoop you away. He never had trouble getting any woman to bed him, but you weren’t just any woman. You were special to him. He wanted to keep you, provide for you, protect you, love you.

He didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you until he noticed one of your friends point him out. He freaked out internally until he saw you move your gaze towards him and he swore his heart could come out through his mouth at any moment. This was the first time he ever made eye contact with you and he couldn’t wait to hold your gaze for the rest of your lives. To his surprise, you smiled at him.

He observed as you whispered something to your friend before standing up.

You were walking towards him.

All this time thinking about how to approach you and now you were coming to him.

That night he had the best time he’s had in his life. Getting to talk to you, look at you up close was indescribable to him. Although he wished he could’ve spoken to you more, he didn’t mind how the night ended at all. Getting to enjoy your delicious little body was the best part of it. He gave you his all. He wanted to make sure you were ruined for any other man, he wanted you to only think of him from that night forward.

He really thought he had achieved that.

But the next morning you were so cold to him it broke his heart to a million pieces.

But that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll win your heart over. ♥︎

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verstarppen · 7 months

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summary; slowly but surely that fake dating plan you cooked up starts leaving its confined lines

pairing; mick schumacher x fem!reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; babe wake up star finally made a mick smau this demands a national celebration; title is count me in by they. because i was listening to it when this story idea appeared between my brain folds TW for mention of food poisoning and hospitals (comedic purposes) but if you're in a place where this might make you uncomfortable i strongly suggest you avoid this post and i'll see you for the lando series update tomorrow, take care

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 295,953 others

ynusername favourite necklace

view all 63,029 comments

georgerussell63 I so desperately wish my ability to read would disappear.

ynusername you got us in this mess now suffer the consequences georgerussell63 I didn't do shit, it's entirely on your shoulders.

mickschumacher why aren't you holding them

ynusername no hand holding before marriage please

houseofwebber if they ever break up you'll see me on the news actually

eastcoastbearman babe wake up micky/n are alive

lewishamilton Embarrassing.

ynusername just like this comment

liked by georgerussell63, logansargeant, mickschumacher and 590,201 others

ynusername took the dog out for a walk

view all 20,356 comments

rothgothgasly stop calling me single in 29 different languages

albonite PARENTS ARE PARENTING

julyestie maman and papa

filipe3596 Hi God it's me again

setbackhamilttel mick the type of guy to say "i don't argue with my girl she tells me to shut up and i do"

ynusername it's true mickschumacher yeah setbackhamilttel THE LEGENDS REPLY!?

liked by estebanocon, totowolff, ynusername and 890,294 others

mickschumacher visiting my favorite corpse

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ynusername EXCUSE YOU I CAN EAT SOLID FOODS NOW

mickschumacher i did that on day 4 get good ynusername sorry that my guts aren't as cool as yours mickschumacher let me rearrange them, then ynusername that was smoother than my throw up

mclandolorian HE ESCAPED

baconforza weren't you also a corpse like 2 days ago

armstrongslayer ARE THE RUMOURS ABOUT THE FAKE DATING TRUE

ynusername anything to piss george off

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 201,506 others

ynusername if a doctor sees this for legal reason these are old pictures :)

view all 80,577 comments

lewishamilton And to think this all could've happened sooner had you people had the balls to say what should've been said.

ynlantern just like a bowl of cereal that's been collecting dust for an hour, it's still delicious in the end innit lewishamilton All's well that ends well, I guess.

vertiddieenjoyer the only people on earth that can go on a first date after 12 months of dating

nandogoat ao3 friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, 294k words, alternative universe - europe, no beta we die like mick's career in haas

osc_pastry i don't think they realize how funny this is to watch from the sidelines

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 (hi besties hope you're having a lovely evening and you aren't also crying about the qatar quali)

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 smau #instagram au #social media au #mick schumacher imagine

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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they ask, "do you have a man?"

alternatively: can’t be discreet to save anyone’s life

in which everyone is curious why the grid princess is still single despite instagram posts from them seem to be giving out another narrative

(series masterlist)

logansargeant posted on their story!

alexalbon ur never beating the dating allegations if u keep posting shit like this i fear

kidy/n omg i look so slay in that dress

logansargeant ugh you’re so right bb

lilymhe i need to know where she got this i fear 😔

logansargeant she said she will text you like a true girls girl ✊🏼

lilymhe ugh im in love with her

user1 gonna need you guys to announce you’re dating actually

user2 posting this and denying every dating allegation is actually crazy

user3 what if i jump in front of a moving train???

user4 such a boyfriend coded story from someone who’s not her boyfriend

kidy/n posted on their story!

oscarpiastri HAVING FUN WHILE I AM IN MELBOURNE I SEE.

kidy/n is there ever a day u wake up n ur not an outright hater?

oscarpiastri no cause you guys are hanging out without so that really fuels my ability to hate

kidy/n u got ur own gf mate, spend time with her?? >:(

oscarpiastri SHE IS LITERALLY WITH YOU RN TAKING THIS PICTURE

sebastianvettel this doesn’t scream “not dating” to the rest of the world btw

kidy/n ugh nobody will know grandpa

sebastianvettel wow hater alert

georgerussell63 still not dating i presume? 🤨

kidy/n no sir

georgerussell63 i smell a big fat lie i fear

user5 IS THAT LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT QUEEN?

user6 pls stop lying to the world and just kiss after a race 🙏🏼🙏🏼

user7 and why exactly is he nOt the one pushing u in a kart??

kidy/n

📍 home

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 56,984 others

kidy/n didn’t see the news cause we were somewhere else

view 30 comments…

comments on this post have been limited.

oscarpiastri having fun without me should be a crime tbh

sebastianvettel this is why u weren’t answering ur phone?? ☹️

lilyzneimer photo credits where? 😔

kidy/n omg so trueeeeee i’m sorry i forgot

charles_leclerc making the uk look fun is a magic power

maxverstappen1 i heard the uk is only fun cause y/n lives there

landonorris what’s all this slander???

logansargeant

🎵 rex orange county - best friend

liked by oscarpiastri, kidy/n and 56,940 others

logansargeant the only problem living with your best friend is that every night is party night

view 288 comments…

kidy/n why are u telling people we’re alcoholics

oscarpiastri first you move in together, and now you’re not even inviting me to drink???

lilyzneimer cant believe i scored an invitation and u didnt

oscarpiastri wtf

kidy/n lol tough life oscar

user8 wow i thought they lived with oscar ngl

oscarpiastri ugh i wish

user9 why would he? he’s got a girlfriend

user10 really not dating?

sebastianvettel not sure how to feel about this

user11 them actually not being romantically involved is my roman empire

user12 in one universe, they’ve GOT to be dating

user13 it HAS TO BE THIS UNIVERSE PLEASE PLEASE PL

kidy/n so based

user13 wait i

formula1 drink safely pls 😀 (i’m begging for an invite)

logansargeant only if u pay for the alcohol

williamsracing not very family friendly of u ngl

kidy/n im sorry williams i tried to stop him ☹️

williamsracing its only ok bc its u

logansargeant ?

kidy/n posted on their story!

logansargeant wowwww look at you go bb!! so pretty!!!

kidy/n ehheheheehhe

oscarpiastri wow busy girl

sebastianvettel and kristen approved of this!!?!?

kidy/n WDYM SHE GOT ME THE ON THE PODCAST

sebastianvettel oh ok. youre just kinda wild lately idk

kidy/n whats that supposed to mean

sebastianvettel 🤷🏼‍♀️

maxverstappen1 the uggs are a no from me

kidy/n ok red bull merch lover

“thank you so much for being on the show,” hannah smiles into the mic. “i’m shocked to even receive the email from your pr manager, actually.”

“no, yeah,” she grins, nails pressed against her lips, biting down on the bottom. she’s never actually been on a podcast before. “we were talking about making an appearance somewhere, but i’m kinda - very - intimidated by men. i chose this podcast specifically.”

“oh, you know of our existence,” emma gushes, giggling slightly. “we feel so honoured. thank you so much.”

“honestly, i’m always around men,” she laughs, scrunching her nose. “i live with a man. so being around women is always a very nice change.”

“right, you recently moved in with logan sargeant in the uk,” hannah points out. “if you don’t mind me asking, how did that decision come about? because you’re really good friends with oscar piastri as well, how come he doesn’t live with you guys?”

“oh, that’s an interesting point,” emma frowns. “i never thought of that.”

“yeah, so growing up oscar and logan actually stayed with my family on and off just because they’ve got brothers and sisters that their parents would have to attend to back home,” she recalls out loud, remembering the sleepovers they’ve spend in the living room with her siblings. “i think when i was… like 15, oscar was 16, and logan was 17, obviously.

i think my sister and i had a really bad fight that turned the house upside down. i mentioned that i couldn’t wait to move out and never speak to her again — i was very overdramatic as a teen. and they were like ‘yeah, that’s a good idea! we should get a place!’”

“oh, so you didn’t even propose the idea of living together?”

“exactly! they just love inviting themselves to be a part of my life. they’ve got cars while i don’t, so that’s a big plus,” she laughs. “then, well, oscar met lily when he was 18 and they got an apartment together after oscar landed reserve driver for alpine. which then left logan and i to kinda figure things out. then, we both landed a contract to race in the 2023 season and both our racing headquarters are in uk, luckily. so we made the decision to move in together earlier this year.”

“so oscar bailed!”

“that’s okay,” she scoffs, waving off the host’s concern. “we live pretty close by, so lily and oscar are always at our place anyway.”

“so, i totally don’t wanna get into it. but like, girl to girl,” hannah grins giddily. “and i promise we’ll get into the racing stuff in a bit, but i’m just curious.”

“it’s okay because i like you guys,” she jokes. “ask away.”

“there’s a lot of speculation that you and logan seem to be too close to just be best friends,” hannah explains. “and it’s seemed to be a trend since you were in f2 together, so i just wanna ask you if… well…”

she smiles. this isn’t exactly the first time she’s heard that. while they preferred to keep their relationship under wraps for several reasons, her and logan aren’t very discreet either.

there are pictures on the internet, after races where they head to weigh-in together with logan holding her things, laughing as they walk, which is normal. but there are also a couple of pictures where they were caught with logan’s hand on her cheek, or of them walking in the paddocks with her hands wrapped around his arm.

she’s not shocked that people talk about their relationship, but more shocked that everyone seems to shrug it off as them being really good friends.

“we’re actually not romantically involved at all,” she lies, though her cheeks flush up at the thought of her boyfriend. “i think we met really early on in life so we’re super comfortable with each other.”

“so, you’re setting the record straight. you don’t have a man.”

she nods firmly. “i don’t have a man. not planning to get one — i’ve just been really busy with my career. if anything, logan is my stand-in date for every event.”

“that’s true friendship if i’ve ever seen one.”

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial #disneyprincemuke vr

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astroboots · 10 months

Text

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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milkywaydrabbles · 6 months

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AHHHH!! all your rindou drabbles for kinktober are amazinggg , but that hanma shuji was the best one so far 😩!! can i request a #8,#17, and #37 with my man shuji 🙏🙏!

A/N: I'm posting this from the spirit realm please do not perceive me and the monster of a 4k fic I made for him I didn't mean to ;A; I like him a normal amount I promise. Anyways here's the fic I hope you like mwuahh. I also did the alternate universe of Hanma I'm sure that's not what you were exactly expecting but I wanted to keep it out of the realm of gangs just this once! I still tried to keep him a little mean hehe

Virginity/Orgasm denial/overstimulation x Hanma Shuji

You met Hanma when you went to the same school years ago, and being the shit head that he was, always picked on you for fun. It was never malicious the way it was when he was actively picking fights with other boys in gangs, but it was so fucking annoying you couldn’t help but cry with how frustrated you felt. He’d poke fun at you more, looming over you with how tall he was and just tease you until you stormed off. You remember that well, and definitely not fondly. Eventually you saw him less and less at school, and then he stopped coming altogether. The wave of relief that you felt when you were able to just go about your days in peace and quiet was immeasurable. Over time, and over the years, you thought of him less and less and forget him all the same, graduating high school, going to college, finding a job--Hanma was no longer a presence in your life.

Not until adulthood.

You were on your way home, feet dragging with how exhausted you had been feeling at the end of the week--work was hell, but you were grateful for the next two days off. You just needed to make it home in one piece. Of course that was asking for too much, because when you turned the corner your phone went flying out of your hand when you crashed into a brick of a body in front of you with a gasp. “Oh, shit” You hissed, scrambling to grab your phone with a flurry of apologies spewing out of your mouth. The body didn’t seem to acknowledge you, or so you thought, until you heard your name come out of a foreign mouth in a whisper. You paused, actually terrified now to look at who you bumped into, but looked up anyways--to someone you couldn’t recognize.

“Shit, it is you.” He breathed out with a laugh, smile appearing on his face. You frowned, brows burrowing up in confusion. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You tried not to be defensive, you really did, but life had turned sour on you at a young age and you didn’t trust any men these days anyways. So you crossed your arms and stood your ground, looking like you were ready to fight at any given moment. The man couldn’t help but cackle, it was like life had slapped him in the face--you weren’t the shy skittish little girl he remembered anymore. You had grown up, fended for yourself, obviously not afraid to get into arguments with men you supposedly didn’t know. He feigned hurt after his laugh, pressing a hand to his chest and jutted his lips in a pout. “Come on, you really don’t remember me? You threw your backpack on me real hard in middle school you know. I think I still have a scar from your book.” Ready to turn away with a middle finger you barely acknowledged what he said, “No I don’t remember....you...” He could practically see the gears in your head turning. “Oh...oh my god--Hanma?” He flashed you a dazzling smile, “In the flesh.”

“Oh fuck off.” You tried storming away, there was no way you had just ran into your middle school bully and he thinks he can just smile at you like you had been besties. You weren’t going to even think about it for the rest of the night, you just needed to get home. Hell maybe he changed, but you weren’t gonna sit there and find out. Not willingly at least, because it turns out he wasn’t ready to end the conversation. “Woah, hey! Come on let’s just talk real quick doll face--” “Excuse me?” The shrill in your voice blatantly told him you were not having it. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Can we talk?” You stopped to look at him--really look at him and holy shit did he grow up. His hair was long to his shoulders, blonde money pieces nicely framing his face--one that was no longer grinning like a snarky piece of shit that you remembered, but soft--eyes almost pleading with you to just give him a chance for the night. And fucking tall--standing taller than six foot you craned your head to look up. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before answering. “Come on, there’s a bar along the way.”

“You’re....so different.” you commented.

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. You learned he left the gang life behind years ago, and that he was a freelance photographer. You also learned that he made lots of friends from his old gang life that actually stuck, and that one of them recently got married. He told you about his travels, about the time he was in juvie (more than once), about what he did after he left school.

And he told you about how he never quite stopped thinking about you.

That made you pause your commentary at each remark, unable to take a breath in after the admission. Then you scowled. “You were an asshole Hanma. You know that? You were so fucking mean to me. And you’re saying you thought about me all these years? Ha, thought about what, how funny it was to torment me?” You let your anger flow freely with the help of the beer that was now warmed on the table top. He let you vent, getting out all your frustrations that you were never able to when you were a kid--to scared to know what he would do in retaliation. You thought this was better than therapy (and cheaper too.) When you finished your monologue of how much of a dick he was, you threw back the rest of the beer (gross) and looked at the sticky table. He made no moves to get up, which you were surprised over, instead you peeked up at him through your lashes and saw a man that looked as if he’d been slapped across the face. “I’m...wow. Yeah. I was the worst, wasn’t I?” A humorless laugh left his lips. “I didn’t...and listen, this isn’t an excuse, really it’s not, but I didn’t know how to act. You were the cutest girl in school and I just...I was a prick. Life was shitty growing up, and everyone always said ‘if you like a girl pick on her’. I guess it was too much, huh..” Another laugh. “I’m sorry, I really am. I thought I’d never see you again and now you’re here and I don’t--fuck, I’m sorry pretty girl.” Hanma hung his head in shame, playing with the emptied beer bottle in front of him riddled with anxiety.

There was too much to unpack in one night. You couldn’t believe half of the things he had even said to you tonight. So you decided to sit with it for a while. You excused yourself quietly, after (attempting and failing) to pay for your drink. “I...I have to go, Hanma.” He sighed, understanding enough anyways--it was a long shot for you to ever forgive him. But then your phone appeared in his line of sight, opened up to a new contact page with his name already up. His eyes shot up at you, hopeful, and took your phone without a pause to write in his number, he might have also changed his name just a bit, adding a heart at the end of ‘Hanma’ , so dry. You rolled your eyes at that, mumbling ‘don’t push your luck’, but kept it anyways.

For the next few weeks (months?) Hanma had integrated himself heavily into your life. You texted him every day, called just as much, and even met up with him for food or drinks a handful of times as your schedules permit. It was odd, having this bond form with someone you used to despise. But it’s not healthy to hold onto grudges like that. Especially from such a young age, and you knew he was really sorry, especially since he admitted to you night one that he had a crazy crush on you. So you let it go over time, and started seeing Hanma shine with his annoying personality again. And once he came out of his shell, really, he acted almost the same. Snarky, making faces, overly cocky like he couldn’t be beat. But he was softer now, and you found it endearing, especially when he’d come to your rescue. You’d be waiting for him to show up at your usual bar spot and be cornered by a man who was too drunk to look at you properly but was still in your face. “Come on, pretty. What’s your name huh?” You scoffed, leaning away from him as you grabbed your drink and covered the top. “Fuck off, dude. Not here for you.” You’d hear the drunkard grumble something about you being a bitch and before you were able to turn to look at him again and tell him off, you saw a tattooed hand grip his shoulder. “What was that?” Hanma leaned down to get in his face, toothpick in between his teeth as he waited.

“Fucking--nothing, dude, get off me.” Before you knew it the drunk was knocked on his ass on the floor and Hanma was shrugging it off, telling the bartender “He’s too drunk to be here, can we get him out?” with a shrug and a smirk when he was dragged off by security (as if Hanma wasn’t the one to shove him). You breathed out a giggle and smiled, thanking him for the save--and silently calming yourself down. He looked...good, turning back into his intimidating self when it wasn’t directed towards you. You wouldn’t mind seeing him like this more often, especially to your defense. You shake off the feeling and continue on with your conversation as you always do, though you’re distracted with the way he pushes his hand back, and how his veins in his hands look, and how--

“Hey, you good?”

You blink, startled and looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Unfortunately for you, Hanma has been getting too comfortable around you now. “What, see something you like?” He cooed, dipping his head lower to meet your eyes, voice now to a whisper. You fidget away, drink long forgotten as you try to remember how to breathe again, furrowing your brows. "I don't think I want to be here anymore." It was his turn to frown. "Hey no I'm sorry, I was joking—" "I'm hungry. Do you...wanna just grab takeout and go to my place?" Silently he nodded, dumbfounded that you had invited him over. It felt like an unspoken rule–he wouldn't ask if he could go over, knowing the answer would be 'no.' You weren't ready for him to invade your space like that. But after all this time, after close to six months of non stop talking and relearning each other it felt like the most natural thing in the world for you to ask. Even if you were a little nervous about it. And so you (he) paid your tab and left.

–

The two of you sat comfortably on the floor of your living room, eating from shared plates and having mindless movies on in the background as conversation continued. "Thanks for letting me over, doll–not gonna lie I was getting tired of always going out to a bar." He teased, laughing when he felt you shove him a little with your shoulder. "Be grateful, Hanma." You rebutted with a smile.

"Shuji."

....

"What?"

"Come on, we’ve been talking for months now. You can’t just call me Shuji? Not just once?”

You placed your chopsticks down, that fuzzy feeling coming back into your stomach the same as when you stared at him earlier. Could you call him Shuji? Did you think you were close enough to do that? He was so different than the Hanma you knew all those years ago, but somehow the same–still poking fun but now it felt good, the teasing and the taunting was reciprocated–maybe even building up to something else, that you had refused to unlock. “Come on pretty girl,” the name made your head spin and your face get hot, and him leaning in closer to you didn’t help. Hanma brushed your cheek, thumbing at your skin when he cupped your face, “just once. Just call me Shuji, please.” Your breathing hitched, eyes dropping down to look at his lips, and when you looked back up at him you noticed he’d done the same thing. “...You’re being so stupid, Shuji.” Your voice was barely heard above the sound of the TV. He chuckled, lips brushing against yours, “yeah well, you know what they say–love makes you stupid.” You closed the gap that barely existed to begin with, hands latching on to the front of his shirt as Hanma invaded your senses.

The kiss was dizzying, overwhelming, too much– everything and everywhere all at once. But you couldn’t find it in you to care, not when Hanma had been such a constant in your life recently, not when he admitted to loving you. You could practically feel the cockiness come flooding back, Hanma smiling into the kiss and nipping at your lower lip, easily slipping his tongue in after you granted him access. He’d taken over quickly, hand on your cheek pressing the back of your head deeper into him and the other trailing around your waist to pull you close. He had you straddling him, and you still were trying to keep up with the kiss. “Sh-Shuji, wait, h-hold on.” You broke free enough to speak if only for a moment, but he continued with the kisses down your jaw, and neck, and nipping at the juncture of your shoulder. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?” Fuck, his voice dipped low–the gravely sound was shooting straight down to between your legs. It was hard to breathe, he wasn’t letting up enough for you to tell him, but you needed to, you needed to–

“I’m a virgin.”

Hanma immediately stopped his ministrations, the sound of the TV turning more into white noise than whatever was going on. When he didn’t speak, you felt the need to explain. “I just, I don’t know–don’t fucking laugh, I don’t know what’s going on in your head.” You huffed, embarrassed. “I just...was never interested in hookups. And everyone fucking sucked, so I never...”You trailed off, looking away when Hanma tried to meet your eyes. He cupped your face so sweetly, small smile on his lips as he did so. “Look at me, baby.” His fucking petnames were going to kill you. But you listened anyways. “We can stop, or we can just make out–doesn’t matter to me as long as I have my hands on you.” He snickered and you wanted to smack him. You thought about it too, but you don’t think you’d find anyone better than Hanma.

You loved him, too.

“I don’t want to stop, Shuji.”

He didn’t need anything else after that.

–

“Aah, fuck, Shuji y-you’re being mean again.” You whimpered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Hanma had your legs open around his waist, working his fingers deep into your virgin hole. It’s already been twenty minutes of him slowly working you open, curling two of his fingers in your cunt and pushing up against that squishy part of your walls that had you climbing up to your orgasm–only for it to never come. Hanma kept fucking stopping. He’d feel how your walls started to clench and twitch around his long fingers, and the absolute bastard would only snicker and pull them out, slapping them lightly against your clit. “Aw, sorry baby–Just can’t get enough of how you look.” He teased, devil horns practically growing on his skull. This was the Hanma you remembered from middle school, and it seems his sadistic torture moved from taunting you at school to taunting you in your own bed. But you don’t think you cared too much, not now. Not when you saw the love in his eyes. Slowly, Hanma pushed in a third finger, a hand coming down to push you into the mattress and keeping you still. “Gotta prep you, doll–don’t want it to hurt, right?” And you don’t think it would, you had toys, it wasn’t unknown territory, but you kept your mouth shut anyways when he looked at you like that, eyes devouring you. His pace quickened, pumping his thick fingers in and out, in and out, until he saw your nose scrunch up and your mouth open–whining and crying out as you climbed closer and closer and closer to your impending orgasm. You could feel it, and you spread your legs just a bit more to give him more space, eyes rolling to the back of your head–

And then he pulled out.

“Shuji!” You were so frustrated, tears flowing freely now with how angry you were feeling. You were ready to start telling him off, until he grabbed your jaw and loomed over you with such authority it made your skin crawl. “If you don’t stop me now, baby doll, I’ll never be able to keep my hands off you again.” His aggressive tendencies never really went away it seemed, even after leaving the gang life behind you had such a grip on him it made him crazy. “Tell me no, and we’ll stop.” He waited a beat, squeezing a bit more at your jaw expectantly. You simply stared at him, stars in your eyes as you looked up at the man.

“Keep going.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Hanma kept the hand tightly on your jaw as his messy fingers slipped back into your weeping cunt, finger fucking into you harder and faster than before, all three curling up back into that gummy part and not letting up this time. Your mouth hung open with the pressure he kept on you, moans flowing freely out–you babbled, repeating his name until it all just jumbled together in messy cries. You tried to keep your eyes open but the pressure building up so fast was dizzying. Your eyes rolled back, bordering screaming as he fucked into you. He said nothing, just kept staring at your face of pleasure as you finally descended into your orgasm, crashing over you in waves and not stopping. Your juicy pussy was splashing him, fingers slipping over to rub over your clit just as quickly. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, lower body spasming as he kept you at that high. “Too much, too much Shu–too much!” your legs were aching to close, and he let up just enough to let you get away, smacking your pussy twice before.

Hanma leaned down kissing your throat after letting go of your jaw, whispering against you “First it was not enough, now it’s too much.” He taunted, nipping at your skin before kissing up to your lips again. Even when he was being mean again, he pet your head and wiped away your tears. “You sure you wanna keep goin’ pretty?” You hiccupped, taking the time he’s graciously given you to take a breather, and nodded. He smiled like the devil himself and planted a harsh smooch right on your lips before moving back, lining his cock against your wet folds. “Y’ready, baby doll?” Another nod. He pushed in.

“Ah fuck, Shuji–s’big.” you gasped, arching your back in the pleasure and slight pain you felt. You couldn’t stop yourself–he was big, though you knew you were feeding his ego when you heard a laugh tumble from his lips–deep in his chest. “You’re okay, baby–gonna stretch you out nice on my dick.” He started moving slow, and you swore you could feel each vein as his cock stretched your walls around him. His movement was deliberate, passionate, like he was making sure your pussy would be molded to only take his cock for the rest of your life. Though even if he told you so, you’d openly admit you’d never be able to be with another man after him. As he felt you loosen enough to move freely, he fucked into you faster, leaning over onto his forearms–dropping his forehead to yours, hair forming a curtain around the two of you. “You waited for me, baby? Waited so I could take your virginity, right?” He spoke nonsense and you both knew it. But fuck, he felt so good inside of you, you couldn’t help but let him hear exactly what he wanted. “Waited for you, Shuji–wanted to give it to you.” You were able to barely get your words out before he groaned above you, humping you like a dog in heat. “Fuck, baby doll–pussy’s so fucking tight.” His jaw tightened as he got the words out, angling himself to feel you cum around him again. “Wanna feel you cum, baby, come on, give it to me.” his hips slammed against yours, wicked pace stealing your breath. Silent screams escaped you, gasping and crying when you came around him again, and he relished in the feeling of your abused cunt clenching and twitching around him. “There we go” He breathed out a laugh, kissing your tears as they fell.

Hanma only let up enough to get his hands on the backs of your thighs and push them up to your chest. He was fully over you now, continuing to pound into your swollen pussy. “Shujiii” You whined, nails clawing at his wrists but unable to move him. At this angle he kept hitting all the right spots and you needed him to slow down. Yet the only word that would spill from your mouth was his name, like a silent prayer or mantra. Your third orgasm of the night came quickly, messier than the first two–your juices splashing on his thighs as he kept fucking into you. Folding in half you had no power to stop him, only able to take the pleasure that was bordering on painful with how quickly he was making you cum with no breaks. “Come on, pretty girl, come on.” Hanma was far gone, pupils blown out with lust–mumbling to himself more than to you, bed creaking underneath you with his strength.

He maneuvered your thighs to be pressed against your chest with one arm, his now free hand finding your swollen clit and pinching– your screams and moans filling the room as your fourth orgasm felt like a house of bricks being dropped on you. You covered him in your juices, his cock now covered in a frothy white layer that webbed and stuck to the both of you. Even as he let go of your clit, Hanma was still chasing that high–so close to getting off. He wrapped his free hand around your jaw, covering your throat and shoving his thumb into your mouth. “Look at me baby.” He ground out, just to see your fucked out face eyes all teary and glassy. Your mouth was upturned in a slight smile, completely cockdrunk. It was enough to push him over the edge and still deep inside you, shooting his thick load in your abused hole.

Silence filled the air, and slowly Hanma let go of your face and your legs, pulling out and hissing when he felt his cum dribble out with him. “Fuck..don’t think I’ll ever stop dreaming about that.” He laughed, and laughed harder when your weak hand slapped his shoulder. He dropped his weight next to you, collecting you in his arms with a kiss to your temple. “How you feelin’ baby doll?” He whispered, and you hummed, snuggling deeper into him. “Good. Sore. Always so mean to me.” You teased, feeling yourself off into sleep. He smiled at your temple and let you drift into slumber, at least for now–he’d have to clean you up.

Until then, he reached over to your phone and finally changed his name in your phone, keeping the heart but replacing his surname with ‘Shuji’.

#milk writes #hanma smut #tokyo revengers hanma #shuji hanma #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji smut #tr hanma #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers shuji #tokrev #tokyorev #tokyo rev #kinktober #milk kinktober

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ummmlife · 8 months

Text

Yandere!Nanami as your boyfriend

now before we start you have to understand that the darkest and twisted part of my heart belongs to this concept of Nanami. This takes place in an alternative universe where Akutami got along with Nanami's original design as a curse user.

this man just had enough with his life as a salaryman and one day he murdered all his coworkers and boss. so this is where his whole personality changed.

Haibara's death, Geto's choosing to be a curse user before him, the higher-ups and their shit, Nanami simply had enough. he stops minding what people could think (since he's basically a crimal with a death sentence on) and surrendered to his most sicking and deepest desires.

now when it comes to you, Nanami met you after his transformation. if he had a partner before, he could have never become a criminal. this Nanami isn't the Nanami we know and love, he's worse, he already killed hundreds of people so why could he be a normal and mentally stable partner?

said that, please beware of:

Warning! ; Yandere!Nanami , nsfw (mdni) , violence and abuse , nc , obsessive and abusive behavior (from Nanami) , physical and psychological abuse , very dark themes , afab reader , evil Nanamin rawr. i swear, this isn't nice at all, so if you're sensitive, please avoid reading

When Nanami saw you walking alone to your home on a cold Thursday night after a long day of work/study, he simply couldn't take his eyes from you. How weird, this is the first time he has this kind of need.

Nanami slowly started to walk behind you, keeping a distance of two blocks as you kept walking.

Finally, when you turned to a very lonely neighborhood to shortcut your way home, he walked faster and held you from behind, making sure to cover your mouth, — "Shh, shh, shh… Don't make a noise, I'm not planning to hurt you".

Even though Nanami is a, now very sadist and evil man, he keeps his gentleness intact… in his own way.

— "Don't you like it? I bought these specially for you, my dear". Nanami kidnapped you, fortunately he hasn't abused you (yet), he just tries to force you to believe that you're in a relationship with him. Now he has bought a new pair of handcuffs, hinged metal handcuffs. He just wants to make sure you don't run away.

He keeps you in a dark room with a single mattress on the floor and a monitor to watch you. If it wasn't because of the context, Nanami could be the most passionate and romantic man that you could ask for, but he's your kidnapper and you are in a situation of life and death.

That one time you decided to talk back to him you got beaten up in a very nasty way. — "I'm sorry, my pet. But you need to understand that my word is the last one and you shouldn't talk back to me". He didn't even bother to clean the blood from your face or the tears of your eyes that day.

Are you into nudism? No? Oh well, you better start being a nudism enthusiast! Nanami could keep you naked, why would you need clothes anyway? He likes to grope your body and kiss you everywhere, especially after a long day of working with Geto (yes, he's with Geto). — "Hmm… Your skin is so soft, my love. Ah! No, no, no, don't try to fight back. You know that I owe you, this little cunt is all mine".

Now here is where things get bad for you. If you thought that Nanami could never want to use you to please his "special needs" you thought wrong. Yes, Nanami could fuck you even without your consent, he's a massive murdered, he doesn't need your permission or pleasure to feel good, in fact, he likes your face of distress and fear when he starts abusing your holds.

— "Hah… That's it…". This man the devil himself when he gets to fuck you, the only lub he needs it's your (forced) cum after he eats you out, and if he doesn't, oh well, I hope you be a masochist. — "Hmm! Are you crying already? Haha, oh dear, I'm just starting here. I'm gonna fuck this tiny cunt until you pass out again".

Of course, all of this is your fault. It's your fault that you're here with him, it's your fault for walking alone at night, it's your fault for being so freaking beautiful for him.

Nanami is terrifying. Even if you get some kind of Stockholm syndrome, you'll live terrified of him.

Let's say that you behave very well for him, accepting every single kind of abuse he has given you and even loving him back. He won't let you leave his apartment, but you now can walk around it and even sleep with him at night. Now you can even wear clothes! Of course, with no underwear underneath, he needs easy access to your pussy after all.

Even seeing you trying to look outside the window enrages him. He can't bear the possibility of another man wanting you, that's why he kidnapped you, after all, to keep you for him and him only. So that time when you attempted to escape and he caught you, he put the handcuffs on your wrist again and locked you in that dark and cold room again, as a punishment. — "You're mine. If you ever try to run away again, I'll beat you to death".

This man has brainwashed your mind after all these months to make you believe that you have no other choice but to be with him. He knows about your family and has threatened you to kill them if you ever leave him.

— "What if for our anniversary I give your womb a baby? Hmm? Couldn't you like it?". He's being serious, he wants a family with you. — "Oh, I know you don't want any children, dear, I know. But you have to understand that it could make me really happy, don't you want your boyfriend to be happy? What kind of girlfriend could you be if you don't make me happy?"

It's not like you could say no. If you decide to oppose he will beat you up and r word you, so be smart and accept to let him breed you.

— "You're so wet tonight, dear… Fuck, so fucking wet for me". With no other option left, you feel how Nanami is stretching your pussy with his (massive cof cof) dick. The best way to conceive a baby is in mating press, so Nanami is on top of you, with his tongue deep inside your mouth for a sloppy kiss as he's pounding all his cum to your uterus. — "Hah, darling! You're taking me so well, you have been milking me for hours now. Haha! I'm not done yet, I'm gonna get you pregnant tonight". His determination is kinda scary at his point, he's getting you and himself more than overstimulating as he cums for the 3rd time tonight. — "You're gonna look so lovely carrying my baby in your belly. Mhm, just thinking about it makes me hard again".

Getting pregnant or not, you now have to accept your new life. Any concept of freedom or a happy life has been already erased from your mind, now you can only try to bear with your new reality.

Yandere!Nanami is this sickeningly and abusive man. The one who privated you of your freedom, starves you from time to time, isolated you, abused you and forced you to make a family with him. You were so damn pretty that night when he found you, he couldn't just lose his opportunity, and only hell knows how happy he is to have found you.

good that our Nanami isn't like this at all, right? i'll write something sane and lovely about my man another day ‹𝟹

#nanami headcanons #nanami smut #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #yandere nanami #yandere!nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #. bibi's writing

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a-aexotic · 1 year

Note

hi ren, biggg congratulation and the eras tour celebration is such a cool concept 🥳

🌙 please for Rafe and Paris!

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. literally nothing except fluff, and illusions to smut?

summary. rafe is in love with utterly and fully in love with y/n

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

Everything about You and Rafe had been unpredicted, no one in a million years that Rafe "Druggie" Cameron could pull someone like you. You guys getting together was definitely not on anyone's list of things that were going to happen that year, but it did.

And honestly neither of you couldn't care less. You and Rafe were completely and utterly in love with each other and nothing could get in the way.

Rumors, people, family, circumstances. None of that mattered in the case of you two. Especially Rafe. After everything with his sister, always being a second choice, when he finally was someone's first choice, someone's favorite person, none of that mattered. He was his absolute happiest when he was with you.

I'M SO IN LOVE THAT I MIGHT STOP BREATHING.

You and Rafe had been together for a year now and Rafe had done a complete 360 from where he was at before he met you. Last year, he was at the lowest of his life; completely high all the time, partying every night, new girl every week. Now, he was sober and with the love of his life.

It had been a year now and neither of you have had the urge to say the scariest three words in a relationship, especially a relatively new one.

Rafe had realized he loved you two weeks into dating you but of course he hadn't said it, he didn't want to scare you off. He was already crazy enough, imagine if he just told you he loved you two weeks into dating?

Rafe had just something so out of pocket that you let out a loud laughing, making Rafe stop and think for second before joining in your laughter. It was so bad that you genuinely had stopped breathing, hanging on to the counter to stop from falling over. Your eyes were tearing up and Rafe's stomach had begun to hurt.

"Oh my gosh, I love you." You accidentally blurted once you stopped laughing. You and Rafe both instantly jumped up, both staring at each other. Your heart jumped and you didn't know how Rafe was going to react, his face unreadable.

"Wait, what?"

You couldn't back out now. "I-I love you"

Rafe felt like he was going to pass out with excitement. "I love you too, Y/N."

ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD, IF YOU KEEP IT JUST YOURS.

If Rafe had a dime for every time someone had made a rumor about the two of you, he would be richer than his dad and that's saying something. You guys were OBX's favorite topic to gossip about.

Instead of getting offended, you and Rafe had made it into a fun game anytime Sarah had told you something you heard. You guys call it "Would this happen in an alternate universe?"

The game kind of says it all. You and Rafe would see how realistic the rumor was. It became such a fun game for you two that you guys started making up your own rumors as well.

You sat in the passenger seat of the car, listening to Rafe tell you the next rumor. "Y/N left Rafe... for Ward."

You gasped and then let out a giggle, "Ward?"

"Yup."

"That is the most outlandish shit I've ever heard, oh my gosh." You replied making Rafe hum in response, "Never. I would never leave you for Ward, my gosh. How do people come up with these?"

"Never?"

You felt Rafe's gaze on you as you furrowed your eyebrows, "Yes, Rafe. I would never leave you for Ward."

"What about JJ?"

"Maybe..."

Rafe scoffed as you let out another one of your exceptionally loud laughs.

NO, I DIDN'T SEE THE NEWS, CAUSE WE WERE SOMEWHERE ELSE.

For your third year anniversary, Rafe had taken you to a Hawaii Cruise. This was the first time both of you had gone on a trip by yourselves so it was way more fun for the both of you. You guys didn't have to sneak around anywhere, having a lot more alone time then before.

Rafe had gotten a buzzcut a few months ago and you've grown to absolutely adore it. At first, when you got the spontaneous text from Rafe telling you he was buzzing all his hair off, you were going to cry. But once you saw it, you fell in love all over again. It gave him a mature sugar daddy look and you loved it.

One of the reasons why you dreaded him buzzing his hair is that you wouldn't be able to run your finger through his hair but now that it's semi grown, you could kind of do that again.

You and Rafe laid on the pool chair, Rafe laying next to you with his head on your chest as you twisted his semi grown out buzzcut. You guys both watched the dark sky in comforting silence, enjoying each other's company.

You heard Rafe sigh. "I'm so grateful I met you, Y/N."

"Me too, Rafe. Me too."

"No, I mean like... like I seriously can't imagine my life without you in it." Rafe looked up to meet your eyes and you felt like you were going to cry of happiness. "You feel like home, baby. You always have."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Rafe. I'd be lost without you."

And suddenly everything to Rafe made sense. There was no more confusion on where he was going, what he was doing with his life because it was all clear to him in that moment. It was all you. As long as he was spending his life with you, he was happy.

"Let's get married."

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vampykween · 5 months

Note

You know how some freaky stuff happens sometimes. People going missing with no evidence of them getting kidnapped at all. You see this woman with her child walking inside the grocery store, shopping for groceries then suddenly she turn a corner and she and her child was never seen again. What if that happens to wife reader and her child with toxic husband simon? Honestly I just want an excuse to read through his pov for once

anon this so eerie!!! because i literally had a nightmare i got kidnapped last night i swear!!! also, forgive me this isn't totally fleshed out :( but i knew i would be better at writing the emotional side of this versus a ton of action but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

simon could recognize you anywhere; he could never get enough of the familiar hairstyle you always wore and the curves of your body. he also could recognize the little hands clasped in yours, toddling after you. you used to always lovingly complain that your firstborn was his carbon copy, so he would quiet you with kisses and retort that you two would just have to make another baby so you could have your mini-me. you're debating between some odd two items on the shelf like you always did; he used to groan at how long you spent grocery shopping, it's not like your family strayed too far from what you got every week. now, he'd give anything to have you reminding him to check off the items on your list and to please stop letting the baby gnaw all over the handle of the cart.

simon's heart ached at the realization that he was admiring what once was his life from afar. now you two were divorced, lived in separate places (he's a little proud you worked your ass off to get your own place, but only marginally), and he didn't get to wake up on weekends with slobbery little kisses pressed into his scarred face followed by squeals of "daddy! daddy! wake up!"

shaking himself out of his daydreaming, he watches the three of you turn the corner, and despite feeling acutely aware that he probably looked like a creep, he trails behind you. instead of finding you and the girls, simon was met with the sight of a hastily abandoned cart and the tiny skeleton plushie his youngest always carried around.

suddenly he felt like he was on a mission; his senses were on high alert, and his head swiveled rapidly but steadily to survey his surroundings. there was nothing amiss in the aisle where you three had disappeared and so, he swiftly slinked through every aisle searching for any sign of his family.

when his search comes up short, simon's heart clenches painfully in his chest; his body growing hot with rage until he feels like a roaring furnace. he wasn't sure if the tears pressing behind his eyes were from anger or devastation. he couldn't bear losing his family again, not after he tried so hard to save them the first time. he may be emotionally damaged and shit at showing his appreciation, but you and those tiny girls were his entire universe. how was he supposed to go about his life when his reason for living had been snuffed out? you were the light to his dark and stormy aura, and he wouldn't rest until he found you; there was no alternative he would ever be able to forgive himself for.

#mic answers #mic writes #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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kiwisbell · 7 months

Text

Whiskey Sour

chapter six: dark 'n' stormy

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 9.1k

a/n: please know that i hate writing angst and that you will always - always! - get a happy ending from me. never forget that an epilogue is to follow :') pls forgive me you know i love you xx

chapter 6: dark 'n' stormy

Learning.

The music pounds your ribs like chisels and your vision lags a little. You're only on your second drink, but you don't make a habit of imbibing—which is why you feel like your body is floating above everybody else, watching the night take hold.

The club is dark and humid with the crowd of bodies, and the air smells sickly sweet: something that clings to your collarbones and the back of your neck. The Tequila Sunrise in your hand is slick with condensation. Next to you, Sonya and Leigh alternate between grinding on one another and pulling you into a dance with the pair of them. As much as you're unqualified as a club dancer and the alcohol is making you spin, it’s fun. You’re having fun.

You take a shot of vodka at the bar with Steve, Sonya, and Liam, then a shot of Jager with Steve and Leigh. Your steps are wobbly by the time you need to use the bathroom for the first time, dragging Sonya inside with you. It's hot. It’s way too hot. You need another drink.

You burst into a fit of giggles when the door hits your ass as it swings shut. You're laughing so hard that tears stream down your face and you have to grab Sonya to steady yourself. “My dress is so tight!” you shout at her over the blaring music.

Sonya whoops, twirling you like you're both doing a ballroom dance. “But you look sooo sexy!”

You bring her into a hug. “You need to stop being so nice to me. I’ll cry!”

“You’re already crying!”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I just… I love you.”

“Are you kidding? I love you,” Sonya cries, swaying with you in the hug.

“Didn't we come in here to pee?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

You both get in line behind two other girls and compliment the girl in front of you on her silver sequinned dress. She beams at you, rosy-faced and unfocused, and brings you into a hug, too. “Oh, my God, you're so nice.”

You really love being hugged.

You and Sonya touch up your faces in the mirror when you're finished and make sure you don't look like you've been crying, heading back out into the club.

At the bar, you and Steve sit next to each other while waiting for your next round of shots. In contrast to you, he seems pretty alert, still sporting that boyish smile. His hair is only a little tousled. He's a handsome young guy.

He just can't compare to the handsome man who's waiting for you at the end of the night. Joel is so…

You can't tell Steve about Joel. You can't tell anyone about Joel. But you want to hop up onto the bar and proclaim to the world that you've got a strong, gentle, good man to go home to. That he's what you've wanted your whole life. That he's it for you.

“To passing chemistry,” you announce instead, “with flying colours!”

“Grounded colours,” amends Steve. “Cheers!”

You clink your shot glasses together, slam them down on the bar, then toss them back. There's perhaps a bit too much alcohol in your system now, but it feels good. It's good to let go.

“Where's your boyfriend?” asks Steve, shouting a bit so you can hear him over the music. “I would think he'd like to see you in a dress like this.”

You are wearing the blue dress you told Joel about: it's the colour of summer sky, short and tight, complete with a pair of strappy silver heels. “Who said anything about a boyfriend?”

Safe answer, you think, rewarding yourself with a mental pat on the back. Indirect. Steve scoffs. “Please. You're never home.”

“And how do you know that?” you ask challengingly. How does he know? “I thought I was”—you hiccup—“being discreet.”

“A girl like you's gotta have a boyfriend,” says Steve.

A girl like you? What does that mean? Didn't you just ask him how he knew how often you were home? “You're being confusing. And I’m supposed to be relaxing.”

Steve slides a Cosmo under your nose. “For putting up with me the whole term.”

You lift your brows at him. “You bought me a drink?”

“I bought you a drink.” His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Looks like you're not in dire straits, though.”

“No, no, my dad likes that band. I’m a Britney girl myself.”

As you lift the drink to your lips, there's a hand on your arm, steering you toward the dance floor. You nearly drop your Cosmo in the person’s haste, and you nearly topple over with dizziness when you whip your head around to see who's holding onto you.

“Liam?” You peer through the darkness at him. His lips are pressed into a grim line, and he looks a lot more sober than you. “What are you—”

“Don’t drink that,” he says, indicating the Cosmo in your hand. “He put something in it.”

What?

You blink hard and fast like it's going to clear your blurring vision. Liam’s still in front of you, not a hallucination, scraping a hand through his hair, his eyes a little frantic. He looks truly distressed.

“Who, Steve?” You eye the drink. Steve wouldn’t… He’s—he’s nice. He’s never tried anything. He wouldn't drug you. “Are you—”

“Yes.” And he seems so earnest that it frightens you. Your stomach drops into your heels. “Please,” he says. “Don’t drink it.”

The Cosmo slips from your hand and crashes onto the dance floor.

Glass shatters around people’s feet. A few club-goers shuffle away from the mess but largely continue to dance, while your vision rapidly sharpens. A cold sweat washes over you.

This isn't happening.

“Liam,” you gasp, grabbing onto his arm, “I need to get out of here.”

It's too hot. You're dizzy. Gasping for lungfuls of air, you feel the air in the room push down on your shoulders. Liam keeps his distance as he steadies you on the way to the door, but you can't feel his hands on your arms. You can't feel a thing.

“Hey!” It’s Steve, behind you, shouting your name. “Why are you leaving?”

You can’t turn. If you look at him, you'll break. You’ll cleave in two.

“You”—Liam pokes Steve square in his chest—“stay the fuck away.”

Steve slaps Liam’s hand away and gives him a hard shove. “Hey, listen, I don’t know what your fuckin’ problem is, but we were having fun.”

“Fun?” Liam shouts. “Does the fun come before or after whatever you were about to do with her?”

“Fuck you, man!”

“Is it true?” Your voice sounds like a separate entity. “Did you put something in my drink?”

Steve scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Please. You think I’d do that?”

“Did you?”

You try to sound strong, uncompromising. But you're drunk, wobbly, and miserable. And he was going to take advantage of you despite all of it.

“This is bullshit. Your little fuckin’ dog is setting you up.” Steve aims to shove Liam again, but the latter retaliates with a crack of his fist across Steve’s jaw.

“You’re fucking dead, Baker,” growls Steve.

“I wish you were fucking dead,” returns Liam. “Fucking rapist piece of shit.”

You can hear them both, but the sounds are muffled, like you're just below the water’s surface. You clutch your heart with your open hand and hear your father’s voice.

Can you imagine a nice, slow heartbeat?

You do. You try.

Just imagine you've got my heartbeat. Take it from me.

He's stronger than you. Everyone is stronger than you.

You're grateful. It's how you can steady your pulse slowly enough to throw yourself out of the club, onto the street, and stumble down the block until you can find a payphone. You’re already tugging at the straps of your heels before you climb into the booth and dig through your clutch for a coin.

Take it from me.

Imagine a nice, slow heartbeat.

Do not fall apart.

“Joel,” you say softly, your hand trembling around the receiver. “Joel, are you there?”

“Hey, baby. You okay?” His voice isn’t groggy or irritated; he likely hasn't slept at all.

Just hearing his voice forces a pathetic sob out of your mouth, covering it quickly with your hand. “I, um…” You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your head on the glass wall of the payphone. Don't cry. Don’t fucking cry. “I’m sorry it's so late.”

“Hey, hey.” His soothing voice prickles the hairs on your arms. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“I…” You’re losing it: your ability to swallow your terror. It surges up your throat, racking tremors through your breath. “I’m at a club. It’s called The Rite Way. ‘Rite,’ like ‘of passage,’ not ‘right’ as in ‘right and wrong.’ It’s kind of stupid, but—”

“Sweetheart,” says Joel, patient in the midst of your rambling. “You gotta tell me what happened. Tell me what's wrong, okay? I’m right here. I’m listening.”

You can't bottle your cries in your throat anymore at his gentle coaxing. “Oh, God,” you sob into your palm. “Oh, God, Joel, he—he put something in my drink. I thought… I thought I could trust him, and he… Fuck, he was going to—”

His voice butts in, and it’s angry. “I’m comin’ to get you. Stay right there. Don’t move.”

You've never heard him use that tone. He speaks so gently to you. This is rage: it's potent as poison and you somehow know it was the right choice to call him, anyway.

“I won’t.”

In fact, when the line goes dead, you clutch the receiver to your chest and hoard the booth while you quietly sob, tucked into the corner as if someone’s trying to break in. The sound of a sputtering truck engine, ten minutes later, makes you lift your head. You forget that you’re supposed to hang up the receiver and drop it like it’s turned to ice in your clammy hands. He’s getting out, parked illegally on the street, slamming the door hard and scanning the street.

He finds you right away.

“Baby,” he whispers, watching you step gingerly out of the booth with your heels dangling from one hand. “Oh, Jesus, baby, c’mere.” He ushers you into his arms and you practically leap off the curb to wrap yourself up in him, squeezing out your tears onto his chest. Joel cradles the back of your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“He…” You hiccup, reeling from the dizzying amalgamation of being rather tipsy and sobered by the knowledge that a friend had betrayed your trust. “He was…”

He dips his chin and kisses the top of your head. “Shh, don’t tell me. Don’t tell me yet, sweetheart. Let’s get you home, first, okay?”

He helps you up into the passenger’s side and buckles your seatbelt for you. He's trying to assess your body for injuries without making a big deal of it, purposefully avoiding the tear tracks on your cheeks. A muscle in his jaw feathers when he spots a thin trickle of crimson on your ankle.

You never even noticed the blood.

“I…” You swallow. “I dropped the glass. It’s nothing.”

“It ain't nothin’.” Joel grips the steering wheel so tight you hear creaking leather. He could go back. He could storm right inside that club and beat the shit out of the kid. He wants to. But you're crying. Jesus, you're so sad, and he wasn't there. He's never there.

You rest your head on his shoulder and wind your arm around his. “Just take me home, Joel. Please.”

He peels away from the curb and runs a couple yellow lights on the way.

You don't let go of his hand as you both walk toward the bathroom. Joel is so careful with how he handles you, letting you sit on a chair from the kitchen as he gets on one knee in front of you, your wounded ankle up on his thigh. He wipes the tear stains from your cheeks and tends to the blood next, the first-aid kit on the floor next to him.

“Your knees will hurt,” is the first thing you say. Your voice is raw and used. You’re still a little drunk, but he's perfectly clear. You can see every strand of hair on his head, every different shade of brown in his eyes.

“I’m all right,” he says softly, cleaning off the dried blood. The glass from your Cosmo only sliced you, and the cut is shallow, but he frowns down at it like it's down to the bone.

“Joel…”

“I wasn't there.” He says it through his teeth, his grip on your good leg tightening. “If I had been… I should be with you when you wanna go out and have fun. I should be dancin’ with you, and I should be the one who’s there when somethin’ goes wrong.”

“You couldn't have known,” you tell him, taking the washcloth from his hand. “I didn't… I didn't think he could… well, you know.”

Joel applies a bandage to your ankle and tucks himself a little closer to you, lifting up your chin with his thumb. “No, you couldn't have known. You handled everything so well, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” you say with a mirthless laugh. “I just ran. Didn't even tell anyone. Left Liam there to deal with… with—”

Your breath shudders on the way in, and Joel clicks his tongue to get your attention. “I know, baby. And you did everything right. You called me. You got out.”

“I never used to run,” you tell him. “I used to deal with all my problems head-on. I probably could've punched his lights out. I could've done more. I just…” You shake your head, averting your gaze. “He was a friend.”

Joel’s trying to blink the red mist from his eyes. Some fucker took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, when you finally decided to let loose and trust someone. He ruined your night. He put that frown on your face. He was going to take you somewhere Joel couldn't find you, and violate your body. Your beautiful, sacred body. He would have done it without regret. And you would never remember a thing. You’re fucking drunk, and he was going to rape you.

Joel wants to kill him. No, he wants to lock him up in a fucking storage unit and torture him. He wants him to feel so much pain that skin becomes blood and blood turns to fire. He wants to do it all himself. No singular agony is sufficient.

He’s never felt such rage before. It's like twisting the apple from the tree. His organs are all twisted up, and only drawing blood from the bastard’s filthy fucking body will reorient them.

“I want you to look at me,” he rasps, shuffling forward so he's on his knees between your thighs. You watch him wearily as he caresses your cheek. “Good. Can I tell you somethin’?”

You nod.

“When I was your age,” he begins, “I wasn't in college. I held down a job at the farm. I was goin’ nowhere. One night, Tommy calls me, askin’ for me to come pick him up from jail. He was three sheets to the goddamn wind, and decided to pick a fight at the bar. I was so mad. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, but in the truck, he broke down. Told me the asshole started talkin’ shit about our mom, our dad, our whole family. It was a small town. Way before Austin.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to go back to the bar just to finish the fuckin’ thing, take out the guy for good. But I had to get my brother home. Nothin’ else mattered.

“You can't solve all the world’s problems, sweetheart,” says Joel. “Sometimes, you gotta run to what's comfortable. Let other people handle the shitty parts.” He swipes a rogue tear from your cheek. “Will you let me be what's comfortable for you?”

Your fingers curl around his wrists as you give him a soft, weak smile. “How many times has your brother been to jail?”

Joel huffs. “How many hands you got?”

You laugh. It's raw and unsteady, but it isn't pain. It isn't misery. “You’re already what’s comfortable, Joel Miller.”

Later that night, you're curled up on his bed with half of your body covering his, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you doze. Showered, dried, and dressed in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, you've taken to the warmth of his body to help you sleep. Joel doesn't mind. He plays absentmindedly with your hair, his other hand occupied with stroking your thigh, which you've hitched up onto his torso.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to the unanswering room. “I’m sorry I wasn't there, baby.”

You stir just enough that your nose brushes the heart-shaped patch on his beard, a soft sigh leaving your mouth. But you don't respond, your eyes still closed, your face still serene. Joel knows the morning will hit you harder than the night. He knows he has business to take care of.

And he knows that your body against him, seeking his comfort, is a heaven that Joel Miller could never hope to deserve.

You feel like shit, and everything hurts.

You're not new to hangovers, but it's been long enough that you forgot about the shakes. The nausea. The aches. You shield your eyes from the light in the hallway as you stumble into the bathroom and frantically splash water over your face. Gently smacking your cheeks a couple times to jolt yourself awake, you squint your way downstairs, looking for Joel.

You expect him to be gone. It’s close to ten, and he usually gets jobs on the weekends. But he's in the kitchen, fumbling his way through an omelette on the stove.

You slump into a chair at the table and throw your head into your arms. “My kingdom for an Advil,” you groan.

Joel abandons the stove for a moment to bend over you and press a kiss to the top of your head. Two little pills clatter onto the table next to you, along with a glass of orange juice. “You don't drink orange juice,” you croak, blinking up at him.

“You do,” he says simply. “Go on. I’ll have breakfast ready in a minute.”

“If I throw it back up,” you say, “it's nothing against you. I very much love that you cooked for me.”

“I know, baby.” He kisses you again. “Drink.”

You swallow the pills with a mouthful of orange juice and watch him while he cooks. His hair is gently tousled, he’s dressed in a dark blue T-shirt, and his back muscles ripple with the subtle movements of his arms as he works. He’s got a cup of coffee next to him on the counter. “I wish you could’ve been there, too,” you say suddenly, your voice still weary. “I wish we could have danced together.”

Joel’s heart squeezes. “I can’t dance,” he says.

“I can teach you how. We’ll go together someday.”

It’s the promise of something that can never happen that has Joel turning off the burner, flipping the omelette onto a plate, and approaching you with his hand outstretched. “All right, then,” he says, lifting a challenging brow, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

You make a sound of exasperation. “I didn’t mean now. I can barely see through the migraine.”

Joel reaches for the pair of aviators he left on the table and slips them gently onto your nose. “We’ll take it slow.”

You take his hand. “You keep your hand here,” you say, guiding it around to your lower back. You lace your fingers together on his other hand. “And if you feel fancy, you can twirl me.”

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling. “And if I wanna keep you right here?” he says, punctuating his words by spreading his hand over your back and pressing you closer to him.

“You lose points for style,” you tease, “but I like it, anyway.”

“Don’t think they dance like this in the club,” he chuckles.

“No, but this is better.” You rest your cheek on his chest. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Joel sways gently with you. “How’s it sound?”

You hum. “Strong.”

“You drive me crazy, that’s why.” His voice rumbles in his chest. It dulls the constant ache in your temples. “I like you too damn much.”

It crescendos. It swells in your ribcage, expanding your lungs, joy and serenity. So much affection that it sticks to your throat on its way out. “I really like you, too, Joel,” you whisper.

When he pulls away, his eyes are shiny with a thin sheen of water. With a slow, deliberate, near-trembling hand, he lifts the glasses to the top of your head and tilts up your chin. He nudges his nose against yours before he kisses you, aligning your palms and fingers together. His hand dwarfs yours, and it’s warm.

Your mouth is a little chapped and your head still pounds, but he feels so good. He guides you, as he always does, the hand on your back an anchor that brings you down through the earth to its very core. He holds you like you’re the precious centre of the world, of the very galaxy, a little orb of light that will shatter if dropped. Joel cannot, in fact, picture a world that does not have you in it. He doesn’t want to.

Neither of you register the sound of a key in the front door, nor the soft clicking of the lock as it closes. But you do hear the noise of a bag dropping to the floor, as if in shock.

It’s your father, standing in the doorway. “What the fuck?”

To his credit, Mike doesn’t walk right up to Joel and punch him in the jaw.

The two of you split apart like positive charges, smoothing down your hair as Joel rakes his fingers through his locks. Both of you are flushed and all three of you are, undoubtedly, mortified. Your father looks helplessly between you and Joel. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands. “What… I… When did—”

“Dad, please.” Your voice is so small, and you feel like a child again. “Please, just listen.”

“Listen? I—” He runs his hands over his face and then braces one in the doorway. He looks ashen. “I don’t… What the fuck?”

Neither you nor Joel say a word, and it seems to make him angrier. He storms right up to Joel and shoves him hard in the chest. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” he demands. “Did you force yourself on her? Did you—”

“Hey!” You leap forward and pry him off Joel. “That is not fair.”

He rounds on you, his jaw clenched. You can see the vein in his neck protruding. “How long has this been going on?”

Joel’s slight movement toward you is minute, his hand twitching in your direction. “Mike, listen—”

“How. Long?” he says with a growl.

“Since the night my car broke down,” you say evenly. “You weren't home, so I went to Joel’s. We…” You swallow thickly and let him put together the rest.

Mike stumbles backward. “September?” His eyes slide murderously toward Joel. “My best friend has been fucking my daughter since September, and I didn't know about it?”

“Take it down, man,” warns Joel. “You're mad. I get it…”

“Mad. Mad is getting the wrong order of material for a job. Mad isn't this. This”—he points between you and Joel—“is the two people closest to me in the world going behind my back. This ain't mad, Joel.”

“We both made choices,” says Joel carefully, lifting his hands like he's trying to ward off an approaching bear. “Neither of us did this to hurt you, Mike. We just… just—”

“What? Like each other?” Mike scoffs. “There are a million other people in the world you could decide to like.”

He's right, of course. Both of you know it. You've even delighted a little in the illicit nature of it all, sneaking around so the pair of you could have a little peace in a pocket of the world that was all your own. “It's not just that,” you cut in. “Joel makes me happy, Dad.”

“Joel is old enough to be your father,” Mike shouts.

Joel winces. Nobody, not ever, should raise their voice at you. “Don’t—”

“But you're my father, aren't you?” Your voice is getting louder, your tone wobbling as you approach tears. You never used to cry this much . “And you were never there. You weren't then, and you certainly weren't when you could have noticed us and you never did. You have no right to a say in who I have feelings for. You didn't even care enough to be my dad until my mom was already dead.”

The air rings with the abrupt silence when you finally let it all go. Your father looks close to a stranger with the way he stares right through you, his face a cool mask, betraying any sympathy he may have beneath. You take it as a sign that this is over.

All of it is over.

You dare to glance Joel’s way, but he's looking at the floor. Not even trying to reach you as you breeze past both of them and shut the front door behind you.

And he lets you go.

Joel regrets it the second you leave. The dread and the terror sit heavy in his chest. His oesophagus burns. It stings behind his nose, and he’s never wanted to cry the way he does now.

I’m in your corner.

For as long as you want me there.

Yeah. He’s no more than a fucking coward.

He will never shed the image of your sad, hopeless expression as you realised Joel would not fight for you when you needed it. To fight for both of you.

“She's wearing your clothes,” says Mike. There's no emotion left in his voice. Just resignation.

“Yeah.”

Last night, he told you he would be your comfort. He’s told you time and time again that you deserve someone who will be there when you don't want to be there for yourself. That you don't have to make sacrifices. That you deserve happiness.

How can a man like him be your happiness when he can't even lift his head up and beg you to stay? One look at real trouble and he froze. He shut down.

Mike shakes his head, not meeting his eye. “You're sick, Joel. This is fucking sick.”

“You're outta line, Mike,” says Joel, feeling the fire in his throat surge up suddenly. “You’ve known her for, what, a couple months? Do you know what she likes? Do you know how much she's been struggling? Why she can't sleep? Jesus, do you care about anything besides fixing your own guilty goddamn conscience?”

Mike’s brows draw together. The rage burns again in his eyes. “Now you're out of line, Joel,” he says. “You don't know her any better.”

Will you let me be what's comfortable for you?

“Yeah?” Joel steps forward. “You know why I was with her last night? This morning? Do you even know?”

I really like you, too, Joel.

“Of course I don't know.” Mike tries to stay angry, but Joel can see it give way to concern. The fatherly concern he knows is there.

“Some guy she thought was a friend put a roofie in her drink. She nearly drank it.” Joel lifts his brows in challenge. “You know who she called?”

I don't know what happiness is.

He does know. Now, he's certain of it.

“I’m gonna find the kid,” says Mike, slamming his palm down hard on the dining table. “I’m gonna fucking kill the kid. Who the fuck does he think he is, hurting my goddamn daughter?”

Joel understands. The memory of your tear-stained, distraught face makes the rage swell up again, the thick and honeyed promise of pain interlocking into a tedious tapestry.

“You hurt her, too,” says Joel plainly. “And I hurt her. And the whole world has only ever hurt her. Take a look at everything’s she's gone through and reconsider if pushing her away for a choice��she made will be worth it down the line.”

Mike sinks down onto the chair you occupied just an hour ago.

“I just…” He rubs his hands down his face. “I just can't help but think about all the other times. All the times she was hurt and I wasn't there.”

He knows the feeling.

“She's been hurt plenty,” says Joel. “And she's strong.”

“She shouldn't have to be,” Mike returns. “She's young, Joel. She's got a whole life ahead of her.” He looks up, helplessly, the anger gone altogether. “You had to have thought about it.”

“Yeah. I thought about it.” And yet, the guilt is an ember that bursts into nothing. It's a passing thing. It is engulfed by the want, the need, the admiration for everything that you are. “Way I see it: she had to grow up too damn fast. She's spent her whole life making decisions for other people. I was a decision she made herself.” Joel shrugs. “I ain't sayin’ it's right. But she deserves to decide what she wants, with her life.”

Mike is quiet for awhile. His elbows on his knees, he bounces his leg restlessly, and Joel knows he’s fighting the urge to run out the door and follow you. Beg for you to return. Beg for your forgiveness. Joel wants to do the exact same thing.

“You would've been good at it,” Mike says with a small, sobering laugh. “The whole dad thing. Better than me.”

“You’ve got time,” says Joel. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

When you get off the bus and walk up to your front door, Liam is waiting for you. His knuckles are scabbed over with blood. You can’t help but laugh, if a little hysterically.

“What the fuck,” you say through your tears, covering your mouth with your palm as you begin to sob. Liam surges forward and squeezes your arms.

“What the fuck,” he repeats, his mouth set in a sombre line even as he matches your mirthless laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” you sniffle. “I just left you there. Sonya and Leigh…”

“Understand. They very much understand.” Liam guides you inside, offering you a tissue from the living room table as you both sink onto the worn couch. “And hey, I was happy to punch him in the face.”

You try to smile, but it just doesn’t work. You’re still vaguely hungover, cold from the journey home, and your whole body feels heavy. Cinder blocks strapped to your ankles. Mouth permanently tucked downward at the corners. Eyes tired and sick of shedding tears.

“What happened to him?” you dare to ask.

“Another guy at the bar saw him roofie your drink,” Liam explains. “He corroborated, and the bouncers chucked him out. Leigh called his parents, to make things worse. Sorry, better.”

You take a couple shallow breaths as the panic threatens to creep back up. “I have Chemistry on Monday.”

“Yeah,” says Liam. “So do I. So does Sonya and Leigh.” You frown at him, and he shrugs. “We have a free block. And if he has the balls to show up, we’d like to be there, too. Something tells me he won’t, just for the big-ass black eye I gave him.”

That just makes you cry a lot fucking harder. You drop your forehead onto Liam’s shoulder, your chest burning with the confusing pain of your misery and your affection for your friends. “I’m sorry I ever thought you were a creep,” you tell him.

“You thought I was a creep?” Liam says. “I didn’t think I made it obvious that I liked you.”

Your laugh is a bit more genuine this time around, but the tears are still flowing. “Liam, you followed me around the house like a puppy. You asked where I was going every day just to make conversation, even though you knew my schedule.”

Liam whistles lowly. “Jesus. That’s so fucking embarrassing,” he grumbles. “I hope Sam didn’t think I was a creep.”

“Sam?”

“My girlfriend.”

You jolt upright. “You have a girlfriend? How come you never told us?”

“It’s only been a month,” says Liam sheepishly, “and I sort of thought you hated me. You’ve pretty much been avoiding this house the last few months.”

You look down at your hands in your lap. “Yeah. I had someone, too. It was never you.”

“That someone got you somewhere safe last night?”

You’re touched by his concern as much as the memory of waking up in Joel Miller’s bed makes you ache. “Yeah. He did.”

“Good.” Liam stands up, offering his hand to you. “You look like shit. Let’s go get breakfast.”

You think of the omelette Joel cooked for you, how it’s lying cold and uneaten, probably in the garbage can. He’d never eat it himself. It was all for you.

Why couldn’t you stay? Why did you have to run away?

You take Liam’s hand after you wipe your tears away for the last time today. He doesn’t once ask about Joel. You have to thank him for that.

Steve does not show up on Monday, nor Thursday. He’s ceased all attempts at contact, it seems, and squirrelled away to lick his wounds. Probably try again with another poor girl. You can only hope she’ll have the attentive friends that you do.

You go to class. You go to work. You study. You sleep, sometimes. Most times, you’re trying to swallow your food even though it tastes like nothing. Liam announces one morning that Sam will be moving in by the end of the year. She’s an absolute sweetheart and Liam is smitten.

Something is missing in your life. The shape of his body lingers in your periphery. The colour of his eyes and hair are in the trees and the sky and the earth.

Two weeks pass and you don't see, hear from, or speak a word about Joel Miller.

You passed all your final exams with all the extra time you could pour into studying, no longer spending the night in his bed. Your landlord had guys set up a shiny new landline throughout the house, and your phone number changed with it. So, if he’s tried to reach out, you wouldn’t know about it. He doesn’t show up at your home. You don’t drive near his neighbourhood or try to find him in the bar when you work late nights. And you still see his face everywhere.

That, you can never change.

The Longhorns have miraculously turned the season around, and they’re looking strong for the national championship. They need two more victories to secure their place, so Sandy’s Bar is packed full tonight. It’s halfway through the second period, and they’re leading 21–0. Rob has hired another girl your age, Julie, to help out, and you took a quick liking to one another. The bartop was replaced last week with a sleek new cherry wood. The lighting is warmer inside. The season is changing, and it’s noticeably colder.

Rob notices—the way it takes more effort to smile nowadays, the way you stare off into space, the way you get dizzy sometimes because you’ve forgotten to eat—and he doubles down on his efforts to lift your spirits. He cracks more jokes, he gives you a two per cent raise for all the extra shifts you’ve taken on just to distract yourself, and he entertains you with stories on your breaks about his daughter’s hyperactive antics.

Tonight, Rob’s working the tables, and Julie’s helping you behind the bar. She’s good at her job. And you can throw yourself into it, polishing glasses until they look transparent and perfecting each pour. It helps not to think.

“Whiskey sour, please.”

You freeze at the sound of his voice.

While your mother was sick, you never cried in front of her. You simply were there for her, holding her hand at her bedside and sharing anecdotes and being a daughter. You were good at it. You’ve lost that. You’ve somehow, at some point, shed your talent for confronting the world with a stern look and a strong arm.

This isn’t fair.

You were trying to get better.

“What are you doing here?” It’s so embarrassing how terrible you sound: like wading through gravel.

“I came to beg,” says Joel.

You pour another pint for Joe, who’s got his eyes glued to the television screen down the bar. “That isn't funny, Joel,” you whisper, avoiding his eye.

Don’t let him see how much you’re hurting.

“I’m not jokin’.”

“You never order a whiskey sour.” Please just go. You’re only making it worse. “You don’t like sweet things.”

His eyes burn through your very soul the way they always have. They’re dark and warm and they make you feel like you’re the only person he’s ever truly looked at. “I’m tryin’ to change, I guess,” he says with a brief flash of a smile. “I tried to call, but I think I left a hundred messages on a dead line.”

Your throat is clogged. The corners of your eyes burn. “I’ll get that drink started for you.”

You turn your back to him once more, but he isn’t going to let you. Not this time.

“I should've fought,” he says to your retreating form. It makes you freeze all over again. “I should have clawed tooth and fuckin’ nail to get him to understand. But I didn’t. I let you go.” You turn to look at him, finally, and the look he’s giving you—an on-his-knees pleading look—makes your knees weak. “I said I’d be in your corner for as long as you wanted me there. I lied. I’m yours no matter whether you want me here or not. You’re it for me, baby.”

You swallow hard. It burns all the way down. You recall slow-dancing in his kitchen, kissing him in the bed of his truck, his hands in your hair as he attempted a braid that never worked out. Touching you, comforting you, defending you. Appreciating you. Telling you it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Telling you that you deserve to be fought for—that you don’t always have to be the one who fights.

“You're his best friend,” you say plainly, pouring the simple syrup into the shaker. “I told you once that I never wanted to jeopardise your friendship, and I meant that. I still do.” You add the bourbon, your vision sharpening to the task at hand. Mind sharpening to the cold truth. The right path. “So you should go.”

Don’t choose me.

Joel shakes his head, leaning in to get closer to you. You’re certain that some people are watching the intimate exchange, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. He’s only looking at you. “You’re the smartest, strongest fuckin’ woman I’ve ever seen. I have never known someone with so much life in her.” Every word is strong and rounded and so firm you almost start to believe it yourself. “Bein’ with you was like finally breathing, baby. I was stupid to ever think I could give you up.”

“Don’t.” It comes out as a croak. Your hands are shaking as you pour in the lemon juice. “I’m working. I can’t have this conversation with you.”

“Look at me. Please.” You blink hard to clear your vision and muster the courage to meet his dark eyes. “I need you. And I don’t give a fuck who sees or knows or looks at me the wrong way. I just need you. I need you here, with me, safe. Fuck, I want you happy.”

He can’t stand seeing you like this. You’re visibly weary, dark circles under your eyes, your cheeks a little sallow and your colour less bright. He wonders if you’ve slept as little as he has. If you’ve laid awake and stared at the ceiling, thinking about him, the way he has you. If you’ve noticed all the times he’s driven past your home just to see if he can catch a glimpse of a light turned on in your bedroom. If you’ve wondered if he’s been calling, trying to reach you. He has.

I’d hate to ever see you unhappy, Joel Miller.

“You once asked me if I was happy,” he says. “And I told you I didn’t know what happiness was. But it’s you. It’s being near you. It’s talkin’ to you on the phone, drivin’ out to the middle of nowhere with you, cookin’ with you even though I’m so fucking bad at it. You’re my happiness, baby. Only a fuckin’ coward like me would throw that all away—make you feel like you weren't worth it.

“Let me be with you. Let me make things right,” Joel pleads.

“He will never look at you the same,” you state, plain as day.

He needs you to understand. “He’ll never look at me the same no matter what. You've spent your entire life sacrificing the things you want for other people.” Joel watches your eyes flicker between his, choosing which one to look at. You’re so beautiful that it strikes him, hard and true as a lance. “Remember that day in the kitchen, when I told you about selfishness? It’s okay to want. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. You need him to understand. “When I called him the very first time, I was so scared. I was scared he would reject me, decide he didn't want a relationship after all. But he did, and that was even scarier. Because I thought of my mom, and the way she died without getting to say a proper good-bye. I can’t… lose him like that, Joel.”

“If your dad would rather see you like this than see you happy, he ain't your dad.” You’re so close, and he could touch you the way he wouldn’t even hesitate to mere weeks ago. But he doesn’t. “I’ll wait forever if that's what it takes, baby. But I want you to know, I—”

“Stop.” You shake the drink together to mix it until the outside is tearing up with condensation. “Just… stop. I’ll speak to him. But I—”

“—can’t just pick it back up again.” He watches you pour the mixture into a rocks glass to the perfect level. “I know that. Didn't I tell you I’d wait forever?”

And when he gets his first smile from you in weeks, it feels like loosening the shackles around his ankles and soaring up to the heaven he doesn’t deserve. “Here’s your drink,” you say softly, sliding it in front of him. No orange wheel. No sickly-sweet cherry. You know him, inside and out. “Have a good night, Joel.”

He indulges in the feel of your soft fingers brushing his knuckles when he takes the drink. Flashes of skin and lips and the honey-warm look in your eye when he used to make you happy. He’s going to earn that again. You turn your back and tend to another patron. The Longhorns make the field goal.

He knocks on your door first.

“I never should've let you leave,” he blurts out before you can open the door all the way. You can see his car parked on the street, but he still looks like he’s run all the way here, flushed and bounding with energy.

You blink. “I…”

“You’re my daughter. You're my family. I know I don't have the right to that title, not with the way I treated you, but I want to earn it. I want to do better.” He puts his hand to his heart, and you remember the first time he talked you down from an attack. “That starts with understanding. Knowing why it's you and him.”

When you let him inside and guide him toward the dining table in the kitchen, Sonya and Leigh, dozing together on the living room couch, jolt upright and scurry upstairs with a quick wave to your father. You’re grateful for the newfound quiet when you sit across from him. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you.” You can see that he’s nervous, lacing his fingers together then unlocking them and repeating the actions all over again. “I… I should have come earlier. I called, but—”

“New number,” you explain.

“Oh.” He studies you from across the table, lingering on your hair, your eyes. You remember having to explain the precise colour to him over the phone. “We took a break from doing jobs together, for a bit. Me and Joel. He’d take Tommy, or I’d take Tommy. I think the guy felt a little used.”

You laugh, even though he eyes you carefully when he says Joel’s name. “I’m sure Tommy’s flattered.”

“We’re okay,” he says tentatively. “We are.”

You break eye contact first, tracing a groove in the table. “I was afraid of ruining that.”

“I know. You’re a selfless person.”

“If I were really selfless, I never would have been with him in the first place.”

“Then, you’d be miserable.” Your head shoots up to meet his gaze, and he pins you with a pointed state. “Am I wrong?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

“I don't promise to get it, honey,” he says. “But if I let you leave my life now, after all the time I've spent outside yours, I can't call myself a father. Will you let me try again?”

“You must know he came to see me.”

“I know,” he confirms. “That isn’t why I’m here. I’m here because my girl has been drowning in her own grief, just like when her mom died, and I wasn’t there to pull her out. I’m not doing that this time. I want to be someone you can go to.” He grimaces slightly. “I don’t want to be M.I.A. when your car breaks down because I’m out on a date.”

You lift your brows. “You were?”

“Her name’s Melissa.” He looks up at you and you can swear there’s a grin brewing behind those eyes. “She’s… a few years older.”

Your mouth drops open, the irony striking you like a slap across the face. “You hypocrite!”

He’s blushing so hard you can see it in the tips of his ears. “It’s my job to get angry when I find out my daughter’s dating!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Fondly. “I’ve been making decisions for myself for a long time. I’ve been on my own a long time, too. And for the record, I’m happy for you. I’m sure Melissa is lovely.”

He drums his fingers on the table. “When you had the… incident at the bar, I didn’t even know it happened until Joel told me. I guess it hurt more than anything that you didn’t call me when it happened. You went to him. It just—it reminded me that I’m practically a stranger in your life.”

Guilt twists your stomach. You hadn’t even considered how it would feel for him to hear the news from a separate party altogether. “I’m so sorry,” you tell him, reaching for his hand. “You are not a stranger to me. It wasn’t fair of me to reach out to you and then never give you a chance to be let in on my life. I said things I’m not proud of that day, and I’m sorry.”

“What you said that day was right,” he says. “I never noticed. A dad should notice things.”

“We both fucked up,” you offer, “a lot.”

He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. “I wanna be better, honey. I want to be able to look at the two of you and see what’s good about it, not what’s wrong.”

You sit up straighter. “There isn’t… We aren’t the two of us anymore. I—”

“You are not going to throw away what makes you happy because some people can’t understand it.” He squeezes your hands tighter. “You have lived your life alone for so long. I will not be the one who keeps you from being happy. You don’t think I see how terrible you look right now?”

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” you say with a wry smile. “Do I really look like shit?”

“With all my love, honey,” he says, “yes, you do.”

You laugh with him, and the knot around your stomach loosens. “So,” you prompt, “can I meet the cougar you’re dating anytime soon?”

He gently ruffles your hair, and it feels like a bridge has been mended. “Smartass.”

It’s two days from Christmas when Joel sees the note.

He and Mike are about to head out to Sandy’s before it shuts down for the holidays, but the rainstorm is bound to deter other patrons from doing the same. Truthfully, he’s hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Since you’ve picked up more shifts at the bar, it’s unpredictable when you’ll be there, and even the briefest of glances will thrill him, satiate him. His blood yearns for you. His bones ache for your touch. Every day he’s apart from you feels like cracking down a chisel onto his chest. He’s going to split open soon.

The small, pink Post-It note is stuck to the countertop. Joel sets down his keys next to the note—he’s agreed to drive tonight—and spots your handwriting.

Dad—

Boxes all packed up. Rental truck will be here to pick up at seven. Thanks for dinner.

Joel crumples the note in his hand. You were here, not long ago, where he was standing. No. No, no, no.

You're leaving?

He doesn't wait around for Mike to finish showering. He sprints out to his truck in the pouring rain and peels away from the curb, eyeing the clock on his dash. 6:54.

He’ll make it. He has to.

Your neighbourhood is a ten-minute drive at most, but Joel makes it at precisely seven o’clock. There isn’t a rental truck in the driveway; it either hasn’t come yet, or you’ve left with it.

Joel nearly forgets to take the keys out of the ignition in his haste. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it over the rain in his ears; it’s a cold and brutal wind that sends the rain hurtling down diagonally from the clouds. He races up to your front door and pounds on it.

You open the door, dressed so prettily in a pair of yoga pants and a cozy blue sweater, and you’re fucking beautiful. You’re the most radiant thing he’s ever seen. His heart surges forward, calling to you. There’s a permanent scar carved into it, and it’s in the shape of your name.

“Joel?” You frown at him, stepping onto the porch and peering up at the sky. The rain is lashing him in the face, making him blink hard to clear it from his vision and keep on looking at you. His hair is wet as a dog’s after a bath, and it drips from his drenched clothes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t go,” he begs, shuddering hard from the cold, relentless rain. “Don’t leave, baby. Please.”

You hug yourself, taking another step down, still shielded from the rain. “Joel, I…”

He can’t stop talking. He won’t shut up—not if it means he can still get you to say yes. “If you go, I go. I don’t like travellin’, and I’ll probably get sick in one of those brown paper bags, but I’ll be okay once we land.”

“Joel—”

“I told you I’d wait for you forever, and I meant it. But if you get on a goddamn airplane, I am, too. You're not the kind of woman a man just lets go.”

You walk down so you’re only one step above him, shivering as the rain hits you.

“Joel, shut the fuck up,” you cut in. “I’m not leaving. I’m just moving.”

He blinks up at you. “What?”

“To my own apartment,” you explain. “Liam’s girlfriend’s lease is almost up, and the landlord is her uncle, so I’m taking her place on a discount while she moves into my old room.”

“You’re…” The joy and relief pierce him at the core, and his voice breaks when he says, “You’re staying?”

You’re looking at him softly, your sweet eyes giving him that look you used to. “Of course I’m staying. I still have school, and work.” The rain plasters your hair to your face, soaks through your sweater, and he wants to curl you up in a thousand blankets, lie with you beneath the cover of warmth, never let you go.

You look down at the ground for a moment, and when your eyes meet his again, he dares not hope at the glimmer of happiness in your eyes. “I’ll need help unpacking all my shit again.”

“Baby…” He chokes on the word. He’s suffocating on the knowledge that you still want him around. You’re staying. You’re here.

“You came all the way here because you thought I was leaving the state?”

“Yeah,” he says lamely.

“And you still want to be with me?”

He nods, frantic, ready to sink to his goddamn knees if you ask. “I’m never gonna want anything more in my life.”

You step down so you have to look up at him, raindrops clinging to your lashes. You’re a picture. He hasn’t been this close to you in so long. He can smell your heady perfume through the earthy scent of rain. He could—

“Then can you just kiss me now?” you say, like a sigh of exasperation, closing the distance between you and clutching the hem of his shirt in your hand.

It is heaven to obey. He knows this time, clear and ringing true in his ears, that the world isn’t all bad.

Joel cups your face in his hands and slants his mouth over yours.

Kissing you is like muting the sounds of the world and watching the colours hum with vibrancy. He keeps his eyes open for a moment because he can’t quite fool himself into believing this is real. But he sees your face, your eyes fluttering shut, and he feels your soft mouth, slick with rainwater, tasting of salt and your strawberry lip balm, and he lets his eyes close.

#kiwisbell's fics #whiskey sour #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

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Eddie Munson and the Best Anti-Valentine's Day Ever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie hated everything about Valentine's Day… until he met someone who hated it more than he did. Contains: Female reader, first Valentine's Day together, high school bullshit, alternative V-Day plans, awkward jokes and excessive sarcasm, director yelling "cut!" before the good shit. Words: 2.8k-ish

This is a sequel to Eddie Munson and the Worst Valentine's Day Ever. You can read that first, read that after and pretend it's a flashback, or fine, be that way, don't read it all, see if I care. (Please read it.)

Eddie Munson hated Valentine's Day.

After an unfortunate incident in the 2nd grade, Eddie did his best to avoid the stupid non-holiday, but he was never successful. There was no escaping it. It was everywhere. He scowled when the stores would turn an entire aisle red and pink. He glowered at the ridiculous decorations littering every hallway and classroom at school. He rolled his eyes when jewelry ads took over every commercial break. He hated that people lucky enough to have someone to love waited until that one corporate-approved day to show it.

Yes, Eddie Munson hated Valentine's Day.

Until he met someone who hated it more than he did.

You hadn't been together very long. He'd been so worried about getting your first Christmas together right - which he did - he'd completely forgotten about Valentine's Day. When he realized that it was right around the corner, and he finally had someone who would expect him to acknowledge the occasion, he panicked.

Does he buy flowers or chocolate? Flowers and chocolate? What kind of flowers? What if they didn't have your favorite kind of chocolate in a heart shape? Is regular chocolate okay? What about the teddy bear situation? Would you swoon and fall into his arms, or laugh at him? Should he just tell you why he hates Valentine's Day and hope that you understood? Why was this so hard?

He expressed his concerns to Wayne, who knew how Eddie felt about the holiday. He'd caught on pretty quick to Young Eddie pretending to be sick every February 14th so he wouldn't have to go to school on Valentine's Day. Wayne had laughed at him, in that loving you're being an idiot, but I love you anyway way, and told him that "It doesn't have to be flowers and teddy bears, son. Just do something she'll like." That was not helpful, Uncle Wayne.

And then one day at lunch, about two weeks before the dreaded non-holiday, something happened that confused Eddie even more.

A cheerleader was making her way from table to table, selling chocolate roses for some dumb fundraiser. Eddie half-expected, and fully hoped, that she would just pass on by the freak table. But since the universe had it out for Eddie Munson, she stopped.

"Hi! I'm Tanya! Would any of you like to buy a chocolate rose for Valentine's Day? It benefits the basketball team's new uniform fund!" The Hellfire Club was so stunned that there was a cheerleader in their vicinity, everyone suddenly forgot how to speak. Eddie bit his tongue, trying to think of a nice way to dismiss the bubbly blonde. Until you did it for him.

"Nope, I think we're good." You picked the tomato off your burger and plopped it on Eddie's tray without looking up.

"Are you sure? It's only $1 a rose! You just fill out a card and write the name and homeroom of the person you want to send it to on this," the cheerleader shakes her hot pink clipboard, "and we'll deliver it on Valentine's Day! Everyone's doing it. It's a great way to show your friends you care, or let someone know you have a crush! And the basketball team gets new uniforms! Everybody wins!" Tanya giggles.

The Hellfire Club, finally coming to their senses, begins to shift uncomfortably. But Tanya and her dumb-ass clipboard weren't going anywhere. You turn to her and offer a tight-lipped smile. "You know what, that sounds great. Why don't you let us talk it over, and if we decide to buy, we'll come find you?"

"Okay!" she giggles again. "But make sure you buy from me! We're having a friendly competition to see who can sell the most, and nobody else wanted to ask…" Her face falls. Your gaze turns to steel.

"Ask what?" Your voice holds a challenge. The freaks? The weirdos? Eddie is stunned, not sure what the hell is happening. The rest of Hellfire remains silent, watching with wide eyes.

"N-nothing, I've gotta go meet my friend, please come find me if you decide to participate!" She vanishes quicker than she appeared. The tension in the air is so thick, Eddie could cut it with his pocketknife.

You survey the awkward teenagers surrounding you. It's the longest you've ever seen them quiet since you moved here.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you begin with a mock sincerity that quickly turns into a decent impression of Tanya, "did you guys wanna, like, support the basketball team by purchasing overpriced candy from the only cheerleader brave enough to speak to the freaks and weirdos? 'Cause I can call her back!" No takers.

"Wouldn't want anyone to feel left out when they're the only person in class who doesn't get a ten-cent chocolate rose during this month's popularity contest." You were going for sarcasm, but the way your voice softens toward the end of the sentence gives you away. Eddie feels a tightening inside his chest. Had you gone through it too?

Gareth cracks a joke about ten-cent hookers, and the dark cloud over the Hellfire table lifts. Everyone laughs, and the conversation returns to normal again. But Eddie watches you carefully, more worried than ever about how to approach the V-word with you.

Exactly seven days before the dreaded event, he gets his chance.

"What do you want to do for Valentine's Day?"

You're lying on your back on his bed, head hanging off the edge next to where he sits on the floor. You'd already finished your essay on Romeo and Juliet - wow, Romeo and Juliet for Valentine's Day, how very creative of the Hawkins High English Department - and were on standby to help Eddie with his. The question had come out of nowhere, and though he'd been thinking about it nearly nonstop for weeks, he still had no idea how to answer.

"Uh… I don't know?"

"Very helpful Edward, thank you."

"What do you want to do?" You turn your head and meet his curious but hesitant eyes. You inhale deeply and stare at the ceiling, preparing for a long one.

"I demand flowers and candy and a teddy bear holding a velvety red heart. Balloons are optional, but encouraged. You will wear a suit to school and present me with these treasures in front of the largest crowd possible, preferably on one knee. You will then take me to the Valentine's Day Dance in the prestigious Hawkins High Gym, which definitely won't reek of ball sweat like it usually does. Afterward, we will make sweet, passionate love on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire, and you will surprise me with a diamond of some sort." You were impressed with yourself for not breaking your deadpan during the delivery of your ridiculous demands.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is the corporate-approved Valentine's Day plan not good enough for you?" you tease, trying to catch your breath.

After the laughter subsides, you flip over onto your stomach to see him better. He's turned to lean his back against an amp rather than the bed, so he doesn't have to turn his head to look at you. Lacing your fingers and resting your chin on them, you change gears.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. It's a dumb holiday. I just thought it would be weirder if we didn't acknowledge it at all."

He fidgets with the corner of a blanket hanging off the bed. You're not sure which one of you is more nervous at this point.

"I want to do something. But not like… a traditional something," he finally says.

"Okay," you nod. "So are we talking like a horror movie marathon, or destruction of public property, or anal?"

He chokes.

After another laughing fit, the two of you make a plan.

The Monday before Valentine's Day, which was on a Thursday, you and Eddie walked into school together and both froze. You took in the sights around you and slowly turned your heads toward each other with wide eyes before bursting into laughter.

It looked like Cupid's elementary-school aged children had thrown up in the halls of Hawkins High. Red and pink hearts made from construction paper were everywhere. And chains! Paper chains! How old did they think you were?

"Hi guys! Do you have your tickets for the dance already?" someone far too perky for this early hour chirps at you from behind a table a few feet away.

"Nope, we have other things to do that night," you inform the girl you've never noticed before, probably an over-achiever on the decorating committee, not wanting to be completely rude.

"You have other things to do the night of the Valentine's Day dance?" she asks indignantly. And to think, you'd tried to be polite.

"Those virgins aren't gonna sacrifice themselves," Eddie says in a low voice, before you can think of a sarcastic response. She gulps. You bite back a laugh and tug him along, to anywhere but there.

You'd decided not to do anything special on the corporate-approved day of romantic acknowledgement. Your plans would wait until Friday: An Anti-Valentine's Day Date. Hopefully the first of many.

The next few days were relatively uneventful. Well, as uneventful as life can be with Eddie Munson as your partner in crime.

On Thursday, the shitty construction paper littering the halls wasn't the only thing that was annoyingly festive. You'd never seen so much pink and red in your life. They must've cleaned out the mall two towns over. Not a fuzzy sweater or a heart-patterned sweatshirt could have survived this shopping spree. You're surprised you haven't seen something about it on the news. Breaking: High Schoolers Clear Out Entire Red-Hued Inventory. Dye Industry May Never Recover. Pastels Definitely In for Easter, Possibly 4th of July.

"God help us," you mutter as you grab Eddie's hand. Two figures clad in black weave their way through a sea of red and pink toward homeroom. He walks you to your classroom and gives you a peck on the forehead. "Homeroom, homeroom! Parting is such sweet sorrow," he quotes wrongly. You roll your eyes with a smile and give him a playful push toward his own classroom, located four doors down.

The student council member with the honor of delivering the morning announcements is bursting with joy as she informs everyone that the cheer squad broke the school's previous fundraising record with the chocolate roses they sold for Valentine's Day. Greeeat, you think. Those will be delivered during this period.

You hate waxy, overpriced candy. You hate the basketball team. You hate the cheerleaders. But more than anything, you hate the thought of your friends feeling excluded. You'd fallen in behind a pair of airheads discussing the number of roses they'd sold in the hall one day last week. What's-her-name wasn't lying when she gave Hellfire her sales pitch. Everyone was doing it.

So you'd found the only cheerleader brave enough to talk to the freaks and shelled out a few bucks to send each member of Hellfire a chocolate rose. You were weak. You were soft. You were hard candy coating with a squishy marshmallow inside. You were hopeless.

As if on cue, a pretty brunette with poofy hair came in with a pail full of chocolate roses. It was a small lump of red tinfoil, stuck on a green plastic stem with a fake leaf or two on it, and a little white card attached with a ribbon. That's all. It was just as underwhelming as you'd imagined.

Instead of watching her make her deliveries, you decided to spend the rest of homeroom writing a dirty, overly dramatic love letter to the Dungeon Master of your dreams. Depending on how filthy it turned out, you might even sign it "Love, Principal Higgins" and stick it in his locker before lunch.

You were adding extra emphasis to the words "engorged member" with a red pen when a rose was dropped onto your notebook. You looked up in confusion, but she had already moved on to the next desk. Putting down your pen, you reach for the card bearing your name, attached to the thin plastic stem with a cheap red ribbon.

"Hail Satan."

The Hellfire Club was practically vibrating at lunch. Nobody wanted to admit that they'd received one of those stupid chocolate roses from an anonymous admirer, or that it had made them all so unreasonably happy. But you knew. You looked over at Eddie. He knew. Despite your attitudes and outward appearances, you were both just mush on the inside. You shared a knowing smile and intertwined your fingers under the table, silently agreeing to never speak of what you'd both done.

Supporting the basketball team. Honestly.

After school on Friday, the day after Valentine's Day, you and Eddie had gone on a Hawkins-wide store tour and purchased several bags full of discounted candy. Your reward for surviving another V-Day.

You'd also stopped by Family Video to grab a few things to watch during your Anti-Valentine's Day Date Night.

"If you're looking for anything romantic, we're out," the exasperated clerk informed you the second you stepped in the door. Eddie shook his head, laughed, and led you to the horror section. You left with four $1 rentals: Old creature features. Bad ones. The bottom of the barrel. The shittier the effects, the better. You couldn't wait.

That night's meeting of The Hellfire Club went off without a hitch. Progress was made, nobody died, everyone was in high spirits and pumped full of candy. Was everyone's good mood due a great session, to surviving the least awful Valentine's Day in recent memory, or the massive amounts of sugar? Who's to say.

After everyone cleared out and you helped Eddie clean up, he took you home. You'd spared no gory detail when you told your mom everything you had planned for your Anti-Valentine's Day Date, and she'd agreed to let you stay with him for the night. After all, who'd want to get frisky after playing a nerdy game with a bunch of sweaty virgins, filling up on cheap candy and cardboard-like frozen pizza, then finishing the night by watching disgusting monster movies in their rattiest sweats?

You and Eddie Munson, that's who.

The next morning, you woke up before he did, and decided to make him breakfast. Your Anti-Valentine's Day Date was over, so you could do cute couple-y stuff now. You knew Wayne would be home soon, so you made yourself look moderately respectable before heading into the kitchen to forage for food.

Eddie stumbled in while you were making pancakes, wearing nothing but his favorite black sweatpants and a sleepy smile. He saunters up behind you, places his hands on your hips, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"What, no heart shapes? Just plain pancakes? Some girlfriend you are." You swat at him with the spatula and he laughs, kissing the top of your head and making his way to the coffee maker.

He wants a special pancake? You'll give him a special pancake. Lifting a plain circle out of the pan and dropping it onto the stack of boring pancakes, you get a little more creative with your next pour.

"Will you clear off the table so we don't make a mess of this?" He grumbles and does as you ask, sitting down at the cluttered table to start separating the junk mail from the bills that had been accumulating. You don't care about eating at the table, you just don't want him to see his special pancake yet.

You flip it. It's perfect. When it's done, you plop it onto a plate and grab the syrup bottle, heading toward the halfway-cleared table. You place it in front of him with a wicked grin.

"Is that…"

"Yup."

He tilts his head from his special breakfast to you, an incredulous look on his face.

"That's a dick."

"Yup."

At that very moment, you hear a car door slam. Wayne's home. Shit. You and Eddie are frozen in place; Eddie still shocked by his dick-cake, you panicking about Wayne seeing it.

The door opens. Eddie grins. You gulp.

"Hey Wayne, look at the special Valentine's Day breakfast that--" Eddie's mouth is suddenly filled with a dick-shaped pancake, leaving him unable to finish his sentence.

"Good morning, Wayne. Would you like a pancake?" you ask sweetly, wiping the crumbs from your hand onto your pants.

"Sure, darlin'."

You return to the stove, your face as red as one of those stupid construction paper hearts that were probably still littering the halls of Hawkins High. Thankfully, Wayne thinks nothing of Eddie shaking with laughter at the table, his cheeks stuffed full like a chipmunk's.

Maybe this Valentine's Day stuff wasn't so terrible after all.

Did you read the prequel that reveals why Eddie hates Valentine's Day? Click Here!

#writings of despair #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x valentine's day #i am aware that i did not reveal exactly why the reader hates v-day #because apparently everyone on tumblr had That One Incident In School That Scarred Us For Life #so you can pretend you told each other your v-day horror stories on date night if you want #or make up something better #i believe in you

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ihavethedreamies · 2 months

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Desert Storms | Woozi

Lee Jihoon (Woozi - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4k

Pairing: Woozi x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Doll, Baby Girl, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), 69-ing, Bondage? Tied up but not like that, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!)

Author's Note: I plan on doing a story for each member of Seventeen that is this Sci-Fi, desert world, Alternate Universe, but not according to any kind of schedule.

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Shit. Shit. Shit-" You cursed. You cursed yourself, you cursed the desert, the planet, everything. Why? Sandstorm. Your rover was having trouble keeping ahead of it and you were pushing her to her limits. One of the real issues with sandstorms on the planet of Sierra-Victor-Tango versus Earth was…acid. The giant burrowing space worms that lived under the dunes spit literal acid. Because of this, the sand at deeper levels was infused with that acid. So, you really, really didn't want to be out in that. The problem was, if enough of the acid sand hit the rover, it could damage it badly, and take out the glass. Then you would have been screwed. The storm was getting worse as it traveled and to stay on the road, you couldn't drive straight away from it. All of a sudden, a message came over the transceiver.

"Hey, uh, I can see you from my base. In like a kilometer take a right and then you'll be able to see it and then you can just drive straight in." A man's voice came in, the receiver made the audio crackly from the high wind. You knew about the base, but it was private, so you didn't really know anything about it. If the guy was offering, you would take him up on it. You hit the button on your radio and shouted over the noise, "Okay, great, thanks!" You weren't sure if he saw you on some kind of radar or what. Right where he told you, you took the turn and cringed at the rattling noise your rover let off. Unfortunately, the direction he had you turn was leading you more into the path of the storm. Luckily though, you didn't have far to go. Slowing down a bit, you saw the hatch to the base open just enough for your rover to fit through. As soon as your rover started to go down the ramp into the base, the door closed, and you could hear your own thoughts again. Slowing down, you sighed in relief and stopped the rover. There was another one parked down there that was much nicer and much bigger. You pulled up and shut it off, honestly not knowing if it would start when you went to leave. The motor rattled as it shut off and you had to kick the door open after you pulled the handle. Slamming the door shut, you coughed as a bunch of sand dust blasted back at you.

"How'd you get caught out in a sandstorm?" You recognized the voice of the guy who contacted you, actually able to hear it clearly. You stepped around the rover to look at him standing in the doorway that actually led into the base. He was…gorgeous actually. Not very tall yourself, you had no room to talk, but he was pretty short. However, he compensated for this by working out it seemed because he was thick. His black shirt was sleeveless and tight, his pants were equally as tight. He had longer wavy black hair pulled halfway back into a small ponytail. You waved to acknowledge his presence and retrieved your pack from the hatch of your vehicle and slung it onto your back. Approaching him, you got an even better look at his face. There was a small scar over his brow ridge that left a clean cut into his eyebrow, another small scar on the opposite cheek near his jaw. A set of snakebite piercings rested under his lower lip and his eyes were red. Not like bloodshot, his irises were red. You didn't know if it was natural or not. His ears had some ear piercings, a long pendant hanging down from the left ear with an upside-down triangle-like design. Each finger had an identical silver ring on them that probably served some purpose.

"Thank you for letting me shelter here." You told him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"Here." He reached for it, and you hesitated for a second but handed the large pack over, keeping your satchel with you. Motioning with his head, he went deeper into the base, and you went up the short three metal stairs and inside, the door sliding closed behind you. You followed him down the short hallway, the metal was old and worn but more or less clean. There was an intersection not too far down the hall, but he kept going forward. You reached another sliding door and when he led you in, it was a stark contrast. Everything looked brand new, fancy, top of the line. It was a giant open living space with a large sectional couch and fancy holo-screen. There was a giant round table to the left and there was a decorative wall that had the kitchen on the other side. It looked like there was another big open space behind the kitchen with a bunch of consoles and other equipment set up. On the other side of the living room there was a large bedroom with the doors open and the hall went in both directions past it.

"Wow…" You gaped, looking around. The same logo that was on his earring was found in multiple places around, a big hologram floating above the center of the table, printed on the glass of the decorative wall, even scored into the glass of the coffee table.

"The storm is supposed to dissipate soon, but then another big one is coming in. You can stay here through it, no one else is here. Normally my co-commander is here too but he's not right now." The man told you and his voice brought you attention back to him. This place looked like more money was put into it than your entire hometown.

"What is this place?"

"Ever heard of the Rangers?"

"Yes?"

"This is our main base." He motioned with his head again and she followed after him and he led her down the hallway to nearly the end. The door at the end opened and he had brought her to a beautiful bedroom with a sitting area, king-sized bed, and a giant bathroom behind the bed.

"I can stay here?" You gawked and he let your bag thump on the ground as he smirked.

"Yeah, no one is using it. Woozi." He held his hand out and you nervously shook it. Even though he himself was pretty short, you were still a good three or four inches shorter than him.

"Oh, uh, (Y/N)."

"Where are you from?" Woozi moved back out of the room, and you trotted after him as he led you back toward the kitchen.

"Morgran town." You informed. He told you to take a seat at the counter and you jumped up on the stool and he opened the ice box.

"I'm not a wonderful cook so I don't have any fancy ingredients, but I can mix all this together with some rice." He had taken a bunch of small containers of leftovers and set them on the counter.

"Okay!" You were starving and hadn't had a normal meal in quite a while. He set up the rice cooker and you wondered if this was how homes on Terra looked.

"Were you born here?" Woozi asked.

"Yes. You?"

"Nah. I was born on Pledis and moved here when I was about eighteen."

"Why?"

"The co-commander, Seungcheol, convinced me to come here with him and start our own faction of Rangers. Not only are there a lot of runaway criminals here, but a lot of people who need help in the middle of the desert." He cast you a sly look as he hit the button on the rice cooker. You laughed nervously at this, and he leaned against the counter in front of you. Lord, he was hot. The way he was positioned, the muscles in his arm flexed and his shirt spread tight over his chest. He huffed when he noticed you were ogling him, and his hand came to your chin. He moved your head up, so you looked him in the eye again and your face exploded into a blush.

"U-uh, I…I'm-"

"Don't worry, doll." He tilted his head to the side, looking over your face, his thumb coming up to stroke your bottom lip. Woozi backed up with a smirk and you avoided his gaze, turning in your stool to get down and go near the couch.

"Your holo-screen is huge." You marveled and he moved out of the kitchen to join you, pointing for you to sit.

"Tap the table." He told you and you saw a little flashing light and pressed it, a holographic module popping up that worked as the remote.

"Watch whatever, I have to go finish something." He told you. You watched from the corner of your eye as he went to the room behind the kitchen, your eyes moving down to look at his ass in those tight black pants. When he got completely out of view you looked back at the module and found a listing of movies and shows that you had only ever dreamed of seeing. They even had ones that were over a hundred years old! Selecting one, a movie series based off an even older set of books about elves and wizards, you sat back to watch it. There was another button on the module that flashed, catching your attention. You tapped it, and a second smaller screen popped up in the corner showing the radar of the storms incoming.

"Shit." You groaned. Woozi had been right. The one you just escaped was still lingering over the area and there was another bigger one coming right behind it. At the bottom of the corner there might have been a third one developing as well. Oh well, it could be worse than being stuck in a fancy underground base with an extremely attractive man.

It was only about thirty minutes after you started the movie he came back out, the only reason you noticed was because the rice cooker had gone off. Pausing the movie, you got up and went to sit at the counter, watching as he mixed everything together and your mouth watered. He left it all in the same big bowl, grabbed two spoons, then nodded for you to follow him back into the living area. You hesitantly sat down, and he sat way closer to you than you even hoped for and handed you a spoon. Glancing at him, you sat back still mostly rigid, and hit play on the movie. After you got to eating it and realized how starving you were, you soon forgot that he was so close to you. He watched in amusement as you scarfed it down and you both had soon finished it off.

"Thanks for letting me stay here. I looked at the radar and it looks like the storms are just going to keep coming." You groaned, resting your head on the back of the couch. Your eyes were closed so he took the chance to look you over like you had been him. The thin fabric of your shirt had ridden up some and revealed the smooth skin on your tummy and waist, tanned with a smattering of freckles from sun exposure. Your long hair was tied back in a braid, and you wore tight leggings with mesh side panels to allow for more breathability. It wasn't too often he ran into anyone, even women, who were that much smaller than him, let alone that cute. His eyes shot back to your face, your eyes still closed and he wondered if you had fallen asleep already. Woozi wanted to just grab you and haul you onto his lap. Living out in the middle of the desert with only the rest of the guys in his Ranger group didn't give many opportunities for him to be with a woman. Now, one had just happened to show up. He didn't want to push it, but with you how you had been looking at him…

"Ugh, I think I wore myself out trying to get out of that storm. The adrenaline has finally gone away it seems." You tipped your head back and forth, your neck popping to relieve some pressure. He glanced at his watch, and it was pretty late. This time of year, the sun didn't get very low, so it was bright nearly all of the time.

"Go sleep then. If I'm not out here when you get up, you can just grab whatever from the kitchen. I'll let you know if the storm lets up sooner." He stood up with the bowl to clean it up and he watched you trudge sleepily down the hall and into the room he let you use. When you got in there, you marveled at the luxury and peeled your clothes off so you could take an actual legitimate shower. The water felt like heaven, and you were glad your spare underwear and clothes were clean. Just putting on your leggings over your panties and redoing a wrap-around breast band, you climbed in the amazing bed and immediately fell asleep.

A loud and echoing crash startled you awake, the sound of metal crunching was the opposite of reassuring. When it happened again you jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room and down the hall. You assumed the only room with the door closed was his and you got ready to knock, but the door just slid open. He was sitting up at a desk across from the bed and he glanced over at your panicked face.

"What the hell was that noise?"

"The metal crushing?"

"Yes!" You gaped and came further into the room.

"Sand worm. We're fine." He assured you, and when it happened again, you jumped so hard he got up and went to you.

"Hey, it's fine." He placed his hands on your arms, and he felt you were shaking.

"That's NOT a sand worm." You insisted, the noise happened again but louder. Even he was a little surprised by the volume of it and he walked past you and toward the equipment room. You followed close behind him and he typed on the console and a hologram of the base popped up, a bright red flashing dot appearing the top right corner.

"Oh, great." He grunted and you looked at him then back to the dot.

"What?"

"The storm must have damaged the drone silo; it seems they're all falling out of the hangar." He clicked his tongue, and you sighed in relief. Sure, that sounded expensive, but a giant monster wasn't going to break in. You were still shaking a bit; your adrenaline had spiked again but your body was so worn out that it wiped you out more.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" He stepped closer and he was dangerously close to you now.

"I won't let anything happen to you, doll." He smirked, his finger coming up and brushing a lock of hair away from your face, which turned red.

"No?" You stepped even closer, your own hand moving to trace over the rings he had on each finger. The smirk grew and the hand you were touching wrapped around yours and he pulled you to him. Chest to chest, his other arm wrapped around you, your other hand resting on his shoulder. Woozi brought your linked fingers to his lips and kissed over your knuckles, and when he reached your thumb, he sucked it into his mouth. You exhaled harshly and your free hand cupped his jaw.

"How about I help you relax?" He asked, his fiery gaze meeting yours.

"Please." You whispered; his lips so close to yours now. Letting your hand go, you dropped it to his other shoulder, and his strong arms engulfed you, pressing you into him. Woozi sealed his lips over yours and you whined, his tongue immediately swirling around yours. He tasted good, almost like some kind of soda you only had once or twice in your life. His hands on you were hot, his body pressed to yours was hard and his kiss was consuming. When he finally pulled away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connected your lips and you nearly slumped against him. His presence was all encompassing, and your head was already swimming, he was some kind of drug.

"Can I do something?" You ask, his lips still close to yours, your breath mingling.

"Whatever you want, doll." Woozi complied, so you pulled back a bit but instead of stepping away from him, you sank to your knees. His finger came to your chin and made you look up at him.

"If you're going to do that, I want you to sit on my face while you do." He told you and your eyes widened.

"Okay." You shrugged and instead of reaching his hand to help you up, he bent and scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bed. You weren't big, but he did it so easily. Letting out an 'oof' as he dropped you onto his bed, your eyes got bigger as he began to strip. The tight black shirt came off and you nearly drooled. His body looked just as good as it felt, and you couldn't wait for him to drop his pants. He undid his belt and with an aggressive snap, he pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. With a smirk, he made eye contact with you and let his pants fall. You were not expecting him to have nothing on underneath and his hard cock bounced some from being released, smacking against his stomach. Your mouth watered. Stepping out of the clothes, he stalked over to you and pushed you onto your back. It wasn't hard or aggressive, more playful, and he hooked his fingers in the waist band of both your leggings and panties, then yanked them off. Woozi deftly unsnapped your breast band and threw that off you as well. Laying on his back, he patted his shoulders and you hesitantly moved to where he wanted you.

"Come on, doll." He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your dripping cunt onto his face. You squealed, falling forward, and catching yourself on your arms. You found yourself right in front of his pretty cock and since he was already shoving his tongue into your core, you enveloped the head of his cock with your lips. Neither of you could get over how the other tasted and he grunted when you just kept swallowing his cock deeper into your mouth and throat. His arms tightened their hold around your thighs, and he sucked on your clit. You twitched at the sensation, losing your pace and you gagged on his cock. The spasming of your throat squeezed his cock deliciously and he couldn't wait to fill your cunt. When he buried his tongue inside you as deep as he could, you moaned again, the hand loosely holding his cock squeezed a bit and his hips jumped, making you swallow him more.

"Cum, doll." He ordered, nipping your clit and you did as he told. The vibrations of your moan hit his cock and you sucked hard, setting his own orgasm off. Spurts of sticky white cum painted your throat and mouth and dripped down his shaft when you couldn't contain it all. Still semi-hard, you pulled your mouth off of him with a pop, then licked him clean.

"You taste so good~" You cooed; he was about to tell you the same thing. Helping you dismount his face; you just roll over onto your back and flop to the bed. He smirked, sitting up and rolled you again so you were on your stomach. He kneeled behind you and lifted your hips up, making you rest on your knees. Your chest and face were still touching the mattress and he rubbed his thumb over you dripping folds, then the cold metal of his rings touched the flesh and you shivered.

"W-what do those do anyway?" You asked.

"Wanna find out?" When he asked you turned to look at him and nodded. Little blue sparks flew off of them, then a hologram-like gauntlet surrounded each hand. Suddenly, warmth spread over your skin, and you yelped as ribbon like tendrils shot out from his hands and wrapped around your body. It wasn't bondage, they just wrapped around like vines, over your legs and arms, your abdomen, and breasts. They were warm and tingled and when it got done, the end landed right above your clit.

"Oh, god." You gasped; the sensation dull but incredibly sensual.

"What about this?" He asked and then the ribbons tightened, and this forced a moan out of you. His hands then grabbed the flesh of your ass, the tingling hologram on his hands leaving the same sensation as the ribbons.

"Ready?" He asked and you felt the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Your body was buzzing in so many different ways and you whined positively, and he started to ease in. The burn of his girth fucking opens your walls heightened every other pleasurable sensation in your body and he groaned at how tight you were, so wet you were literally dripping.

"Ah~ (Y/N)…" He groaned finally filling you up completely. Your head was swimming and he simply grinded as deep into you as he could, his pelvis meeting your ass. When he didn’t do anything more than that you whined pitifully, needing him to move more than that.

"Woozi…" You mewled and he groaned.

"You're so tight, baby girl." His voice had rumbled through you. You yiped when the ribbons tightened then began to move again. You couldn't see behind you, but when he groaned, you felt the ribbons wrap around his cock as well and the heat intensified, and he began to move. His thrusts were shallow but hard, and he made sure to roll as deep as he could with each thrust.

"Fuck, I'm not letting you go anytime soon, doll. Even if the storm lets up." He grunted with each thrust, then stopped. You were about to complain but he leaned over you, his hands landing by your head, and you could see better the blue light around his hands.

"You want more?"

"Pl-please…" You huffed and he pumped his hips, snapping his cock into you hard after nearly pulling out all the way. Your mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out and tears pricked your eyes at the intense feeling of him rearranging your guts. He was fucking you like an animal, nearly growling above you, drool was leaving a dark spot near your mouth on the sheets.

"W-Woo-Woozi!" Feeling your orgasm coming fast, he leaned over you more, wrapping his arms around your middle to haul you up, his chest to your back. His hands cupped your breasts and the ribbons tightened even further and he grunted two more times, spilling inside of you, this sent you over the edge. One of his hands was on your throat, just lightly holding you in place as your whole body spasmed. You orgasm faded shortly after his and your body stung, the ribbons leaving you calmed the burn, and he helped you curl up in the bed. You watched the dancing patterns of the screen saver on his wall display, dazed, barely registering him moving around. When he came back into view you slightly noticed the continuing metal crunch of the drone silo, but it was the least of your concerns.

"You know, I think the storms might last a few days…" He sat on the bed next to you, wearing a pair of boxers now.

"I hope they last the whole month," You mumbled, and this made him laugh.

"Me too, doll."

Masterlist

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #seventeen #svt #seventeen woozi #svt woozi #x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #kpop x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #woozi x reader #woozi smut #woozi #lee jihoon

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holylulusworld · 9 months

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Switched lives

Title: Switched lives

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Actress!Reader, Jared Padalecki x Huntress!Reader

Square filled for @samwinchesterbingo: RPF!Verse

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, relationship problems, almost smut, light somnophilia?, alternative universes

Words: 1,5k+

This is Jared’s version to this story: Switched

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARED PADALECKI

“You know what? If you don’t want me around any longer,” you exhale sharply. It’s too painful to think that the man you love doesn’t love you back, “I could try to find that alternative universe you and Dean visited years ago. Where your name is Padalecki, and you had the guts to marry me!”

“Y/N, stop being irrational,” Sam argues with you. “I didn’t say that I want you gone. I just thought about having a break. With everything happening lately, we need a break from everything. Hunting. Fighting. Arguing.”

You snort. “Having a break means breaking up.”

“In which language?” Sam furrows his brows. You sigh as, for a smart man like Sam, he can be so stupid sometimes.

“In any language, Samuel,” you snap at him. Hurt feelings can be a bitch. You know that it was too good to be true when Sam and you finally made the next step. “Fine. Let’s have a break then. I wish I could meet that other you. Maybe he would be a nicer guy to be around.”

You storm off, almost running Dean over. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He calls after you.

“Your brother is an asshole and just broke up with me. I’ll spend the next week in my room.”

“Fuck, baby you smell so good. I can’t get enough of you.” You whine in your sleep. Sam’s big hands run up and down your thighs. You can feel his weight on top of you, and his lips nip at your neck. “I bet you want me to ruin this cunt again.”

“Sammy…” you whimper. “Please.”

“Oh…we are in that mood again,” he chuckles in your neck. “I knew the moment we met that you are a dirty girl. Fuck, I love when we roleplay.”

“Sam.”

“Say my name again, baby.” His purrs in your ear. He moves down your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his way. “Say it!”

“Sammy.”

“Louder.”

“Sammy!” You cry his name. Your eyes snap open, and you gasp watching Sam spread your legs to bury his face between your thighs. “Oh-fuck! What has gotten into you?”

He lifts his head to grin up at you from between your legs. “It’s my birthday and I thought about having the best breakfast I can imagine.”

“Your birthday?” You splutter. “Sam, did you hit your head? Did you forget that your birthday is in May? It’s July, you know.” You sit up to look down at Sam.

He looks a little different this morning. His hair looks shinier, and his skin looks better than yours. But the biggest difference is that you can feel his wedding band against your thigh.

“Babe, I know you are into roleplay, but it’s my birthday and I kinda feel left outside when you are talking about Sam all the time.”

“OH. FUCK. NO!” You push against his shoulders to get him off you. “You’re not Sam. But that Padalecki guy.” Looking around the room you realize, you’re not in your bedroom, nor Kansas any longer.

“Babe, did you hit your head?” Jared laughs. “The last time you called me Mr. Padalecki was when we first met.”

“Shit. Fuck.” Panic rises in your chest. The last thing you said to Sam was that you wanted to end up in the alternative universe. “What did I do?”

You slip out of the bed and flee toward the door.

“Wait. Babe. What happened? I thought we wanted to spend my birthday in bed and have fun. Did you change your mind? We can still roleplay. If you want me to be your Sammy, I’ll do it. Let me get a flannel and the fake demon knife.”

“You won’t believe me.” You turn around to look up at Jared. He looks so much like your Sam but is a completely different man. “I’m not your wife. Not in my universe. My name is Y/N, and I’m Sam’s girlfriend…or was…”

“What? I—” Jared frowns. “No one knows about the breakup yet. Only Jensen and I already go the script. I wanted to ease you into the change in the series.”

“Mr. Padalecki, I’m not your wife. Sam and I got into a fight, and I said things I didn’t mean. Now I ended up in your world and I’m afraid your wife is with my boyfriend.”

Jared looks you up and down. He dips his head and repeats your words in his mind. There is no denying, you look different from the woman he fell asleep with last night.

You’re not wearing your wedding band, nor your jewelry. There are scars on your legs and biceps he never saw before. And the anti-possession tattoo on your stomach looks real, not fake.

“You must believe me.” You hope Jared will believe you. He’s your only chance to find a way back home.

“Am I going crazy or does this story sound familiar,” he says and furrows his brows. “My wife and I are struggling too. She’s not happy lately. We said nasty things last night too. She said that Sam would be a better husband and that she wishes that it’s possible to meet him in his universe.”

“We said the same thing. Maybe even at the same time,” you hum thoughtfully. “This could be the key.”

You start pacing the room while Jared watches you. He can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you are not his wife and that the woman he loves ended up in a different universe.

“If this is a bad dream, I want to wake soon. I want my wife back,” Jared says, making you stop in your tracks. You want to say something, want to calm him but a crashing sound alerts you.

“Do you have a gun?” You whisper and point toward the door. There is a commotion outside of the bedroom, and you hope it’s a burglar, not a demon. “Salt? A demon knife maybe?”

“What? I—” Jared gapes at you. “Salt is in the kitchen.”

“Got it.” You nod. “You better hide in the closet or something.” You look Jared up and down, realizing he’s as tall as your boyfriend. “Shit. Just don’t leave this room.”

You look around the room for a weapon and huff. In lack of a weapon, you grab the lamp from the nightstand and sneak toward the door. You silently open the door, hold your breath, ready to attack whoever is outside.

“Whoa, sweetheart. It’s me!” Dean grunts. “What the fuck, Y/N!” He raises his hands. “Don’t hit me with the…” He cocks his head. “A lamp?”

“Dean! Did you find her?!” Sam jogs toward you and Dean. He laughs as you still hold the lamp above your head, not knowing if this man is Dean or not.

“Safeword, Dean,” you lift one brow.

“Candy cane,” Dean grumbles. “It’s me, Y/N. Sammy dragged me with him after bugging Rowena. She opened a portal for us to bring your doppelganger home and find you.”

“Y/N, you’re here!” Sam remembers why he came here. “I was so worried about you. How have you been?”

His features darken. He balls his hands into fists and grunts when Jared steps out of the bedroom.

He’s only wearing his boxers and Sam sees red. “YOU TOUCHED MY GIRL!”

“Sam! No!” You drop the lamp to block Sam’s path. You’ve got no other choice but to tackle him to the ground. “Fuck, you’re hard to take down.”

You sit on top of his lap and hold him down by his shoulders. “Let me hit him! He touched you.”

“Uh-not really,” you bite your tongue. If Sam gets to know his splitting image tried to go down on you, he’ll freak out. “Calm down. How did you even find me?”

“Rowena, Crowley, a lot of cursing and yelling. Sam punched faces and threatened anyone holding you hostage,” Dean sighs. “Now that we found your missing love bird, can we go back home, Sammy?”

Dean looks Jared up and down. He wrinkles his nose as he remembers the last time something like this happened. “You remember the last time this happened, right? I won’t let that Ackles douche touch my girl again.”

“She’s safe at home,” Sam argues. “Unlike my girlfriend.”

“I never felt safer,” you sass. Sam quirks a brow as you look down at him. “How was your adventure with my alternative version?”

Sam grins. He knows you are possessive and jealous. “I asked you a question, Winchester!”

“Jared? Baby!” You groan as your alternative version walks past you and Sam to throw herself at Jared. “I was so scared. They call themselves Sam and Dean. I think they’re crazy. We should call the cops.”

“And that’s our cue to get the fuck out of here, guys.” Dean jerks his head toward the hallways. “Get up and run. You can make up later…”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Sam mumbles. He gives you his infamous puppy dog eyes, hoping you’ll forgive him.

“You’re lucky I didn’t let that Padalecki guy finish what he started. He seemed to be damn good at giving heads.”

“HE WHAT?” He growls. “If anyone touches her, it’s me. Your pussy will only feel my mouth on her.”

“Oh-I thought you wanted a break.”

“No. I want to break you…”

#jared padalecki #jared padalecki x reader #sam winchester #samwinchesterbingo #sam winchester x reader #happy birthday jared padalecki #sam winchester x you #jared padalecki x you #Switched lives

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ramblingoak · 11 months

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The Cardinal’s Bride, Chapter 5: Copia

~ A Romantic Adventure in the Old West: After being forced into a marriage with Mr. Saltarian by your father you are sent west to his estate in Nevada. Along the way you end up meeting one of the cowboys you have always fantasized about... ~

Previous Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 ~~ Pinterest Board ~~ Spotify Playlist

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster! Lots of other amazing people have done fanart of Cowboy Copia so please go check it out: @meowsaidmissy (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335 here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing here, @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2) and from valkyrieinpink on twitter. Also a huge thank you to @kissingghouls for aggressively holding my hand and letting me scream at her about cowboys.

~ Cardinal Copia x Female Reader: alternative universe, slow burn romance, gun violence, blood, NSFW, 18+ only MDNI, 8,200 words for this one ~

Aether hated being left behind.

He hated this situation especially because of who was with Copia and his friends. The second he saw Mary he knew something stupid was going to happen. Stupid shit followed Mary around like a shadow. The fact that Copia was just going along with what everyone knew was a trap pissed him off to no end. Then there was the fact that Copia left him at camp to fucking babysit.

Babysitting Sunshine was like trying to pet a feral cat.

“Sunshine, what are you doing?”

She had been digging through the saddlebags they were using the stolen stagecoach horses to carry. All he got for an answer was a grunt so he grabbed a small rock and threw it at her. That earned him a hiss, but otherwise she remained quiet and continued making a mess.

“Hey, we might have to make a quick retreat here. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Aether groaned and threw another rock.

“It looks like you’re making a mess.”

“Your cooking shit is still everywhere so maybe take your own advice.”

“Yes, well I’m picking up my cooking shit, you’re dumping clothes everywhere.” He reached down for another rock but this one she caught and launched back at him, barely missing his head. “Damn it, Sunshine, I’m ju–.”

“Don’t worry Dad, I'll pick it up. I’m looking for some clothes.”

“We don’t have time for you to play dress up.”

“They’re not for me.”

Aether glanced over to the tree line where Copia’s ‘Principessa’ was waiting. She looked nervous, she’d been looking nervous all morning ever since her and Copia came back with Mary. He hadn’t been able to tell if it was all because of Mary or if something had happened between her and Copia. Judging by the looks they had been exchanging he was pretty sure it was a bit of both. He sighed and looked back at Sunshine.

“Well we definitely don’t have time for her to play dress up.”

“Stop worrying, it won’t take long. We’ve got to get her out of that dress.”

Aether raised an eyebrow and looked back over at the Princess. Her dress had definitely seen better days, but so had everyone else’s clothes.

“Another week in that thing isn’t gonna kill her.”

“Yeah well, the smell might kill me so she’s changing. Plus this will make it easier for her to walk and ride.”

“We all smell, Sunshine. Get over it.”

Unsurprisingly, she ignored him and started holding some shirts up to look them over. Aether wasn’t trying to be an asshole towards the girl, but he also didn’t want her getting too comfortable. In one more week they’d be back at The Ministry and they could hopefully arrange for the switch for the ransom money. The end of this was so close and he didn’t want to deal with having to chase her around again.

“You’re just making it easier for her to run away.” Sunshine just laughed at him and shook her head. Aether watched as she finally set aside a shirt and a pair of pants before shoving everything back into the bags.

“I’m sorry, have you seen the way Copia and her have been looking at each other? She isn’t going to run away again.” Aether walked closer as she shook the clothes out. He wasn’t sure whose pants she had grabbed but that looked like one of Swiss’s shirts.

“Of course I’ve seen it and I’ve tried to talk to Copia about it but he won’t listen.” He crossed his arms when Sunshine just rolled her eyes at him. “What?”

“Good luck getting Copia to back off, I knew he was doomed as soon as I saw her picture in the paper.” She turned to head the Princess’s way, but Aether reached out and grabbed her arm, backing off with his hands up when she turned to growl at him.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you need to just leave it alone. Leave them alone and don’t encourage anything.” Goddammit he was getting really tired of her rolling her eyes at him.

“That’s the problem with you guys, none of you have a romantic bone in your body.” She took a step towards him and jabbed her finger into his chest, he saw the shirt drop out of her hands and sighed. That was definitely Swiss’s. “All I’m doing is giving her a little hand with things, ok? Besides, if we get ambushed here or wherever it’ll be easier if she’s not tripping over that goddamn dress.”

“Fine. Fine, but that’s it Sunshine. Get her dressed and then let her be.”

“Of course, Dad.” Satan’s dick, Sunshine drove him crazy. “It’s just a change of clothes, man. Maybe a few self defense lessons.” Sunshine grunted as she leaned down to grab the shirt and started to shake it out.

Aether groaned and shook his head, but decided not to say anything. He didn’t know why he’d even wasted his time talking to her. Sunshine could be as stubborn as Copia some days. He eyed the shirt in her hands before speaking again.

“You know what seeing her in Swiss’s shirt is going to do to him, don’t you?” Sunshine just cackled and turned to start walking towards the Princess. Aether kneeled down to pick up the bags and started for the horses when he glanced back over at the girls. Something in Sunshine’s hand glinted in the sun and he watched as she handed it over to the girl. Unholy hell.

“Sunshine, stop giving her knives!”

The only response he got was Sunshine’s middle finger as they disappeared into the trees so the Princess could change. Groaning, he started for the horses again to get them ready. It was possible Copia and the others would be gone most of the day, but he wanted to be prepared in case they showed up sooner. Who knew how many of Saltarian’s men were waiting in that town. He was confident in everyone’s abilities, whether it was with a gun or something hand to hand, but still. A trap was a trap and Mary was an asshole.

Despite being worried of their need to possibly leave quickly he took his time. The stagecoach horses weren’t really cut out for anything more than lugging stuff around, but he brushed them out and took care of them just the same as their other ones. They’d be able to sell them for a decent sum whenever they made it back to town. He took a moment to look them over before deciding on one for the Princess to ride. Although he had a sinking suspicion Copia would find an excuse to have her ride with him again.

He had known what would happen as soon as he’d seen her picture in the paper too.

Aether paused when he heard the hoofbeats. A steady pounding coming from behind him, across the field. Lucifer, please. He took a deep breath and turned, hoping to see Copia and the others. Unfortunately the rider in the lead was dressed in all black so there was no mistake it was Mary. There were two other riders flanking him and as they got closer Aether’s heart sank when he didn’t recognize them.

He closed his eyes briefly, saying a quick prayer for his friends before glancing over to where the girls had disappeared into the trees. At least they hadn’t come out yet, it would give him some backup with Sunshine and he knew she’d tell the Princess to stay there where it would be relatively safe. He adjusted his gun belt and started walking through camp, passed the dying fire and stopping right at the edge.

By now he knew Sunshine had to have heard the horses and hopefully she was watching and ready. She hadn’t taken her rifle with her so she’d have to get close to help him. He would need to create enough of a distraction to give her that chance without being spotted. Copia left him here for a reason, he knew Aether would fight like hell to keep everyone with him safe. His friend had trusted him with his Princess for a reason and he wasn’t going to let Mary take her without a fight.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn pants.

When Sunshine had suggested a change of clothes you were ecstatic. Your poor dress looked nothing like it did when you had stepped into the stagecoach at the start of your journey. After days of horse riding and sleeping in the dirt it was more brown than blue and white. Falling into the creek the other day certainly hadn’t helped either.

What was worse was the smell, although it didn’t seem like it bothered any of your companions. It shouldn’t anyway, they smelled far worse after days on the road. You figured it was just one of the things people got used to if they spent lots of time out of the city. Everyone kept mentioning heading to a casino and while you weren’t exactly sure what to expect, Sunshine had promised you there were baths.

You’d never wanted to take a bath so badly in your life.

Anytime someone brought up the casino, The Ministry as it was called, you would get nervous. It wasn’t really the thought of the casino itself, but what it meant for you. The Cardinal had said a few times now that once they reached it they would be waiting there to hear from Saltarian. At that point you assumed they’d arrange the exchange of you for the ransom money and that would be it.

What happened after that you had tried not to think about too much. You didn’t want to think about being near Saltarian at all. In just a few days he’d gone from being some unknown business associate of your father’s to a cold-blooded murderer. You had no idea what he was like beyond that. How would he treat you? Would he be angry you had been kidnapped? Would you end up locked away in a room until the wedding?

The wedding itself was just one more thing you didn’t want to think about. While The Cardinal had mentioned the general plan a few times you really had no idea what it actually entailed. Were you going to be stuck in between flying bullets from both sides? Or what if The Cardinal and his Ghouls burned the church down? That would certainly be poetic justice considering what Saltarian had done to them, but what about you?

As the fear started to make your chest clench you tried to take a few deep breaths and calm down. The Cardinal had promised to protect you. You knew deep down you shouldn’t trust him, trust the outlaw that had kidnapped you, but again your thoughts drifted back to how things had changed between you. There was something there now, something that made your heart speed up for a different reason.

You shook your head, you shouldn’t be thinking about something like that. He was probably just trying to keep you happy and prevent you from running away again. Mary had mentioned another woman and there were probably more besides that. Why would he choose some silly city girl like you? You groaned and smoothed your hands down the pants before reaching down to pick up the shirt, turning your head when you heard Sunshine come through the trees.

“How’s it going, kid?” You smiled softly at her nickname for you, no one here seemed to want to use your actual name. Even ‘Principessa’ had grown on you a bit, although you’d never tell The Cardinal that. “Oh hey, those fit great.”

“The shirt’s a little big.” You held out your arms to show her how far the ends hung off your hands, but she just tsked and walked close to start rolling them up.

“Eh it’ll work just fine, you look great!” Sunshine finished with the other sleeve and then took a step back and grinned. “You fit right in now!”

“I’m not sure everyone would agree with you there.” You snorted and fiddled with the shirt for a moment.

“The only opinions that matter are mine and Co–, eh The Cardinal’s and I can guarantee you he’ll approve.” She winked and you looked down to hide your blush. Well, you weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t want his approval. But it was a silly thing to want considering the circumstances.

“I just…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to think, my mind is all over the place.” You sniffed and turned a bit, trying to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. Oh now you were really being a silly city girl. You felt Sunshine’s hand on your arm and looked back at her despite your tears.

“Listen, I’ve known The Cardinal a long time, ok? I haven’t seen him ac–,” Sunshine abruptly froze and turned her head back towards camp. You started to ask what was wrong but she squeezed your arm so you kept quiet. You stayed frozen as she turned and crept towards the tree line. It was then that you could hear whatever must’ve stopped her speech, heavy horse hooves getting closer to camp.

She waved her hand towards you, motioning you to get down so you dropped to your knees, resting them on your dress for a moment before slowly moving towards her. As you got closer you were able to see Aether standing at the edge of camp. You held your breath as you turned to see what he was looking at, hoping it was The Cardinal and the rest of the Ghouls. Instead all you saw was Mary and two men you didn’t recognize. They had pulled up right in front of Aether and you could see them talking to each other, but you didn’t understand what they were saying.

“Sunshine, wh–,” But she shushed you, her eyes not leaving the men as they spoke. Their voices were becoming louder and your heart started hammering in your chest. Where was the Cardinal? Aether reached a hand out to point behind Mary, but the man just shook their head. Everyone's voices got louder as the conversation became more heated and Sunshine tensed up even more next to you.

“Fucking Mary, I knew that asshole was gonna try something.” She shook her head and started to say something else when the other two men moved around Aether to surround him. Mary nudged their horse closer to him right when one of the men drew their gun and cocked it. Aether turned at the sound, drawing their own gun but Mary abruptly kicked out and caught him in the face.

“Shit!”

Your hands flew to your face as Aether dropped to the ground, Mary leaping off their horse right after. When Mary got close Aether slammed his foot into their knee, bringing them down as well. One of the men jumped off their horse but Aether held out his gun and you gasped into your hands when the shot rang out. The man’s body dropped swiftly but before Aether could focus on the other man Mary was up and on the Ghoul, slamming a fist into Aether’s face.

Sunshine cursed under her breath and then turned and grabbed you by your shoulders.

“Stay here. If Mary or the other two head this way you run, ok?” You wanted to say something, but she stood up and grinned down at you, before taking off towards camp. Mary and the other man weren’t looking your way, Mary still busy fighting with Aether. The other one had gotten off their horse and was checking on his wounded companion.

You had thought she would have just run up to them shooting, but Aether abruptly spun Mary and was able to overtake them. The horses startled and started moving away from the chaos in between them. When the man looked up from what you assumed at this point was his dead companion their eyes immediately latched on Sunshine. The Ghoulette was quicker than him, getting a shot off before he could aim at her.

He jerked to the side and he went down right on top of the body of his companion. You couldn’t decide what to watch at this point. Sunshine seemed calm as she advanced on the man she had shot, but at the same time Aether and Mary were cursing and growling at each other. You couldn’t even tell who was winning as they rolled around in the dirt.

Where was The Cardinal? He wasn’t…he couldn’t be dead. There was no way he and the other Ghouls were dead. You took a shuddering breath and tried to fight the tears. Crying wouldn’t do you any good right now, or at all. Sunshine said you needed to run if anyone headed your way so you needed to pay attention. You lowered your head for a moment to try and collect yourself, but when another shot rang out you yelped and looked back towards the fighting.

Mary had seemed to get the better of Aether and they had their gun pointed at Sunshine. You couldn’t tell if their bullet had hit her or not, but she was down. Mary slowly got off of Aether, giving him one last punch in the gut before limping towards the Ghoulette. Your eyes stayed on Aether though, silently begging him to get up but he remained motionless where he was.

You looked back towards the other end of the field, still hoping you’d see The Cardinal ride out of the woods on Brizio but there was no one. Aether was down, possibly dead and Sunshine might be next. You pushed yourself onto your feet, your hands shaking as they rested against a tree trunk. Mary was standing over Sunshine now with their back to you pulling their gloves off and shoving them into their coat. When you looked back you narrowed your eyes, watching as Mary leaned back over Sunshine with a gun in their hand.

You couldn’t let anymore of The Cardinal’s people die.

Sunshine had told you to run away, but where were you supposed to go? Your chances were probably better with Mary than on your own with no supplies in the middle of nowhere. You started looking at the ground around you, hoping to find a branch or anything you could use against Mary. The knives Sunshine had given you were still in your dress and you didn’t have time to dig around for them.

Mary’s laughter rang out from camp, apparently Sunshine was awake you could see Mary kick her hand away from his leg. They were mocking her! You growled and grabbed a branch that was about as long as your arm and stalked out of the woods. Mary’s back was still to you, Aether hadn’t moved and neither had Saltarian’s men. When you looked back at Mary and Sunshine, Mary had cocked their gun and was pointing it down at your friend. An angry scream built up in your chest and you ran at them swinging the branch.

The noise startled Mary and they whipped around to face you, but it was too late. You had swung the branch back and slammed it down as hard as you could, knocking it against Mary’s shoulder. They cried out and stumbled out of the way, landing on their knees nearby. You immediately knelt down to check on Sunshine but her eyes were closed, a large bruise forming on her cheek. Before you could try to wake her Mary’s hands were on your shoulders and they were yanking you up to your feet.

“Man, he really did a number on you, huh?” You tried twisting away from them, but their grip on your shirt was too strong. “Quit fucking struggling, Sweet Cheeks. Your fun little vacation is over. Time to go back to reality.”

“Fuck you!” You kicked out behind you, but you missed connecting with anything. They grunted and wrapped an arm around your waist and then slid the other over your mouth.

“Man no wonder he liked you, the spunky ones always get hi–fucking shit!” You clamped your teeth down on Mary’s fingers as hard as you could, tasting blood. They cursed again and shoved you down onto the ground next to the smoldering fire, your hands landing on Aether’s cooking pots he hadn’t put away yet.

You spit Mary’s blood onto the ground and took a few deep breaths. All you wanted to do was cry, your mind becoming overwhelmed with the idea of The Cardinal being dead. Mary finally quieted down and you heard his footfalls come up behind you, the spurs on his boots jingling softly.

“I don’t know what kind of fairytale The Cardinal was weaving into your head, but the reality is you meant nothing to him.”

You turned to glare at him, staying on the ground, ashamed of the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mary snorted and shook their head.

“No, Sweet Cheeks, I do know what I’m talking about. But it doesn’t matter now anyway. He’s dead and so are his annoying sidekicks.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well I don’t give a fuck what you believe, all I need you to do is get up and get ready to go.”

“Don’t touch me!” You kicked out when Mary tried to grab you, connecting with their ankle. Mary stumbled back growling, glaring down at you.

“What’s it gonna take for you to accept it, huh? Do you want me to drag his body back here for you to cry over like some war widow?”

“He’ll come back for me!” The tears were flowing freely now and your heart was clenching in your chest. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it. Mary crouched down in front of you and you tried to take a calming breath.

“Alright, fine. I’ll play along, what if he did come back? What did you think was gonna happen?”

“I don’t…we were going to hide out until Saltarian paid the ransom.”

“Then what? He’d come swooping in like some hero and rescue you from your horrible new husband?” Your eyes dropped to the ground and Mary snorted before continuing, “Sweet Cheeks, did it ever occur to you he was blowing smoke up your ass to get you to cooperate? Hell, to get under your dress too.”

You clenched your hands into fists, your nails digging into your skin at the implication of his last words. The Cardinal had done nothing to pressure you into…into that. He’d certainly been attentive to you, touching and holding you more than you think you’d ever been since you were a child. You found yourself shaking your head again, he hadn’t done anything you didn’t like. If anything his touches had left you wanting more.

“He told me his plan and he said he’d protect me. That he’d keep me safe.”

“Oh, he’ll keep you safe alright, as long as it’s useful for him to keep you around.” Mary brought his bloody hand to your chin and lifted your face up so your eyes met. They smiled, but it was cruel and mocking and all you wanted to do was wipe it off their face. “Sweet Cheeks, I’ve known The Cardinal for a long time, nothing will get between him and his revenge. Not even some pretty young virgin like you.”

You jerked your chin out of his hand, narrowing your eyes as they laughed at you.

“He promised that he’d protect me.”

“Copia’s made promises to girls much prettier than you, so good luck holding him to anything.” Copia? Was that…was that his name? Mary must have picked up on your confusion because they started laughing again. “You see! You didn’t even know his name! Not much of a love story is it?”

You felt the fight leaving you as Mary’s words started to sink in. Maybe they were right, maybe this was all an act by The Cardinal. By Copia. An act to help keep you in line and make it easier to drag you to the casino. Mary was still chuckling, but you tried to block the sound out.

“This is all an act, Sweet Cheeks. If you get between him and Saltarian he’s going to take the shot and he’ll walk over your body to get his revenge.”

No. It wasn’t an act. Mary was right, you were inexperienced, but you weren’t an idiot. Copia had listened to you when you told him you weren’t there by choice, his behavior after that had changed. He had opened up to you that night by the fire, he had trusted you enough to share his past. You closed your eyes and imagined his arms around you while you rode around on Brizio.

You saw his face leaning closer when he was about to kiss you.

“Fucking wake up!” Mary’s raised voice startled you back to the present and you reached up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. “You don’t mean anything to him except the means to an end. And if your end is part of it, trust me, he won’t lose any sleep over your death.”

“Fuck you and fuck Mr. Saltarian.” You reached your hand behind you and grasped the handle of one of the cooking pans. You weren’t going to listen to any more of this.

“Sorry, Sweet Cheeks, you’re not my ty–” The sound of the pan hitting Mary’s head echoed around the campsite and you held it in the air for a moment, watching as blood started trickling down Mary’s forehead. Their eyes rolled back and they slumped over, laying there completely still while you stayed frozen with the pan in the air.

After a moment you dropped it to the ground and exhaled slowly. You looked around the campsite at the carnage, a bunch of bodies still laying around and not moving. The horses had started to mill around, munching on the grass. You pushed yourself off the ground and stood up, your hands were starting to shake and for a moment you felt like crying again. A sound behind you stopped you though and your breath caught as you slowly turned around to see what it was.

The Cardinal, Cardinal Copia, was riding out of the trees and racing towards you.

Before you even registered yourself moving you were running away from the camp towards him. As he got closer you got a better look at him, his dirty leather jacket was missing along with his hat. You could see one side of his face was matted with blood and you almost cried out at the sight. You heard him shout for you and you stumbled in your desperation to get to him.

“Principessa!”

Copia pulled up on the reins but didn’t even wait for Brizio to stop, leaping over the side and running the rest of the way towards you. He caught you as you practically threw yourself at him. You knew you’d probably be embarrassed at your display later, but right now you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything except the feel of his arms around you. You buried your face in his shirt, a deep red button up that was marked with sweat and some blood.

“Hey, hey,” His hands cupped your face, pulling it away from his chest while you attempted to hide your tears. When your eyes met he smiled and you felt like crying even more seeing the wound on his face. “I’m ok, I’m here. We’re all ok.”

Your hand came up to grip his shirt but he caught it in one of his own, squeezing it gently and holding it over his heart. Like he knew you needed the extra reassurance despite him standing in front of you. His other hand stayed on your cheek, the thumb stroking across your skin back and forth. It helped calm you and you took a shaky breath before trying to speak.

“Mary’s here. They came back with two men and attacked Aether and Sunshine. I, I don’t kno–” Your voice cracked and he shushed you, holding your head against his chest for a moment. You felt his own head rest against the top of yours briefly and you swore you felt the ghost of his lips on your hair before he pulled away.

“Stay behind me.” He kept your hand in his as he walked towards camp, his other hand pulling his gun out of its holster.

“Mary said you were dead. That you were all dead.” It almost felt like a dream now, you found yourself squeezing his hand and you couldn’t help but smile when he squeezed back.

“We’re all a bit banged up, but the only ones that are dead are Saltarian’s men.” He let go of your hand when he reached the first body and nudged the man over onto his back before he knelt down next to him. You watched as he checked their pulse, then took the man’s hat and covered his face.

The next body had the same result and you breathed a sigh of relief. Copia went over to Mary next, giving them a much harder kick to roll them over. While he knelt down to check Mary you went over to Sunshine and knelt down next to her, taking her wrist to check her pulse. When you felt it beat steadily against your fingers you reached up to brush some of her hair back.

The bruise on her cheek had gotten bigger, but the worst thing you saw was the blood staining the sleeve of her coat. You jumped when you felt Copia’s hand on your shoulder and he helped you pull her jacket off, eliciting a few groans from her as the sleeve slid down her arm. Copia checked the wound for a moment and then pulled off the bandana she wore around her neck, tying it around her arm.

“It’s just a graze, Principessa. She’ll be fine.” Sunshine groaned and you watched as her eyes blinked open, squinting into the sun.

“Fuck you, Boss.” Copia chuckled and touched her shoulder gently. The Ghoulette turned towards you and gave you a quick grin before groaning and bringing a hand up to rub her cheek. “Is Mary still alive? If so, can I kill them?”

“Mary’s alive. For now.” You watched as Copia got up and started to move over to Aether before pausing. He looked back to Sunshine for a moment and then back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Who hit Mary?”

You bit your lip and glanced down to where the cooking pan was still laying in the dirt. Copia reached down and picked it up, turning it over to look at the huge dent Mary’s head had left. He looked back to you and started laughing, shaking his head as he tossed the pan back on the ground.

“Well done, Principessa.”

When you glanced over at Mary you saw that Copia had tied their hands behind their back. Blood had covered their face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad. You’d hit them again if you had to. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Aether and Sunshine were ok. Copia was helping Aether stand up and they grasped each other’s elbows briefly before they came over to you and Sunshine.

“We need to pack up and head back to the town.” Copia reached down and you slid your hand into his, letting him pull you up. Your eyes drifted to his wound again and you winced. He tilted his head to catch your eyes and smiled at you. “I’ll be ok, it looks worse than it is.”

You nodded, biting your lip to fight the tears that wanted to come once more. His face softened and he pulled you away towards where Brizio had wandered to, the horse always staying close to his master.

“I’m sorry, I was just scared. I thought you might not be coming back.” Copia cupped your cheeks again and you blinked your tears away so you could see his face clearly.

“Didn’t I promise to protect you?” You bit your lip and nodded, forcing all the nasty words Mary said out of your mind. Words that weren’t true. “I may be an outlaw, Principessa, but I keep my promises.”

“I believe you, Copia.” Your body froze when his name slipped out and you were waiting for him to be upset that you knew it now, but he just smiled. His hands dropped from your cheeks and took your own, bringing one up to his lips so he could kiss the back of it like he had done before.

“I figured Mary would let it slip. I guess you know all my secrets now.” You couldn’t help but smirk, pleased that he wasn’t upset about it. Happy that you knew his real name now and that you could use it. You looked down at his hands for a moment before he spoke again. “Well, maybe not all my secrets.”

When you glanced up at his face he winked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Okie dokie, let’s get going.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Cleaning up camp didn’t take very long. While Aether and Copia dragged the bodies into the woods you and Sunshine got things packed up. Mary had woken up eventually, but Copia shoved a rag into their mouth to keep them quiet. You couldn’t help but glare at them every time you walked by, but Mary just glared right back.

Asshole.

They threw Mary over their own horse and tied them down, you could hear them swearing through their gag but other than that you didn’t bother giving them any attention. Sunshine wandered up to you with her hands behind her back and a smile on her face. When she pulled them out she had the knives you had left with your dress in the woods.

“You did pretty good with a frying pan, but I’d still keep these handy, kid.” You laughed and took them back, but you were unsure where to stash them now. Sunshine started to say something, but Copia came up and interrupted her.

“Allow me.” Sunshine snorted and held her hands up while she wandered off towards Aether. When you looked back at Copia he had an odd look on his face so you raised your eyebrow at him. “We’ll need to teach you how to use these soon.”

“A knife doesn’t seem difficult to use, just stick them with the sharp end, right?” Copia laughed, ducking his head while he shuffled them in his hands. He stepped close and took the smallest one, slipping it into the pocket of your pants. You held your breath at his proximity, biting down on your lip when he used a finger to pull the waistband out so he could clip one of them to the belt Sunshine had given you.

“I think we’ll need to let you practice with a gun too.”

“Oh Copia, I don’t kno–”

“No, today proves that despite my promise you still need to be able to defend yourself.” He knelt down and lifted your pant leg up, tucking the final knife into your boot. You could feel its leather case rest against your ankle, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything it was a comfort to have it, to have all of them close by just in case.

Copia stood up and looked you up and down for a moment. He cocked his head while he looked at the shirt you had on and you reached up to adjust it a bit self-consciously. Your lace chemise you had worn under the dress showed sometimes and you had already seen Copia notice it once or twice. He wouldn’t stop staring so you huffed and crossed your arms.

“What?”

“Principessa, whose shirt is that?”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Once you got to the town there was a nice reunion with everyone. Even Mountain had come up and lifted you in a huge bear hug. As you walked through the town your mood sobered a bit though, it was obvious quite the battle had taken place. You could see that in the tired faces of the Ghouls as well although it was clear they had taken the time to clean up a bit and bandage what needed to be bandaged.

Now with night having fallen you were all gathered around another campfire, this time near the outskirts of the town. Mary had been tied to an overturned wagon a ways away. The blood still caked on their face and the rag still shoved into their mouth. You almost asked if someone should clean them up or give them some water but you decided, for the moment at least, you didn’t care.

What you did care about was making sure Copia, Aether and Sunshine got cleaned up. Dewdrop had been surprisingly helpful, finding a few somewhat clean sheets in one of the houses and then going off to get some water. He didn’t say anything to you, but it felt like his attitude towards you had changed a bit. You’d have to apologize at some point for biting him.

Rain had taken up the task of cleaning up Aether’s face while Dew worked on Sunshine. He seemed like the only one willing to put up with her hissing and cursing while the bullet graze on her arm got sewn up. You had attempted to watch, but it was a little too much for you so you turned and set your attention on your own patient.

Copia had found his hat and had it back on his head, so you tipped it up a bit to get at the gash above his eyebrow. It wasn’t as deep as you thought it would be so you were relieved when he said it wouldn’t need stitches. That was probably a good thing because he was surprisingly twitchy whenever you brought the wet rag to wipe around the wound. When he kept wincing you shushed him, earning you a very impressive glare.

“I thought cowboys were supposed to be tough.” He snorted and reached up for his hat, taking it off and setting it on the ground next to him.

“Cleaning them up is usually worse than getting them.” You smiled as he made another face when you pressed the rag against the cut again, gently dabbing at the blood.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what’s the worst you’ve ever been injured.”

He tilted his head up and squinted his eyes, like he was thinking back on what you were sure were the countless injuries he’d received over the years. When he reached up for your hand you gave him a wary look as he brought it to rest on top of his left thigh, right in the middle. You glanced back up at his face when he spoke.

“Took a knife here a few years ago.” You made an ‘oh’ sound and looked back down at where his bare hand was settled over yours. There were a few scars on the back of it and it made you think of how many scars he probably had covering his body. Unfortunately that thought made your cheeks flame and you hoped the firelight dancing across your skin hid it from him.

You tried to tug your hand away from his so you could get back to cleaning his cut, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead he lifted it up so he could study it in the light and then narrowed his eyes at something near your thumb. There was a very small burn mark there, barely noticeable to you but his keen eyes had honed in on it immediately.

“Oh, I was trying to make myself some tea.” Your eyes narrowed as a bark of laughter left him and you jerked your hand away. “I was a child! I’m sorry I don’t have any wounds from knife fights to brag about.”

“It was barely a fight, Principessa.” He was still laughing, like it was a fond memory rather than a painful one. You looked back up to him with an eyebrow raised and he pointed towards town to where Mary was tied up.

“Wait, Mary stabbed you?” Copia nodded his head and smiled when you shook yours in disbelief.

“Eh, I’ve done worse to them over the years.” You snorted and wrung the rag out again, glancing back up at his face to make sure the cut wasn’t starting to bleed again. Another blush started to grow on your cheeks when you saw his eyes on you. “Still wasn’t the worst wound I’ve gotten.”

You frowned when he took your hand again and watched warily as he pulled it up to his chest. His hand settled yours right over his heart and you held your breath when you felt it beat strongly against your palm. Copia didn’t say anything for a moment and you looked back up at his face expectantly.

“A lovely girl in Denver.” He was biting his lip and you raised your eyebrow as you waited for the rest of the story. “She broke my heart.”

His laughter covered your groan and when you yanked your hand away he grabbed at it again bringing it up to his lips to place a quick kiss on the back. Your cheeks were going to be permanently red at this point, it seemed like his only goal anymore was to make you blush.

“You did good, Principessa. I’m impressed.” It was impossible to hide your pleased smile so you just let it grow on your face. You startled a bit when a shadow fell over you and let out a little sound when something plopped onto your head. The Cardinal had placed his hat on you, although it was too big and fell nearly to your eyes, obscuring your vision. Before you could move it one of his hands came up and tilted it back and you were met with a smile so dazzling you had to look away. “We’ll make a cowboy out of you yet.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be cut out to be a cowboy.” You bit your lip as you adjusted the hat a bit more. When you risked a glance at him his eyes held yours briefly before he winked and you had to look away again. The moment was quickly ruined when he knocked his hat down to cover your eyes and you growled but as you reached up to fix it you felt his breath on your ear and you froze.

“We’ll see about that.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

In the morning they relocated Mary inside one of the buildings so they weren’t baking under the sun. You stayed back and helped pack up again, not wanting to hear any more poisonous words from Mary. Everyone seemed to be in better spirits this morning and it made you happy. Even Dewdrop was in a good mood, but you think that had something to do with whatever he and Swiss had found in one of the buildings. You had been about to ask them what it was but Copia and Aether had wandered out of the building they put Mary in so you waited in the street as they walked up.

“Are they going to be ok if you leave them here?” Copia raised an eyebrow at your question and you rolled your eyes. “I just don’t like the sound of them, or anyone, starving to death.”

“Mary will be fine. There’s a town nearby, some more of Saltarian’s men are waiting there.” You froze at that news, but Copia gave you a reassuring smile and rested a hand on your shoulder. “It’s a few days' ride away, Principessa. We’re safe. Mary will even be safe. When Mary doesn’t show up with you they’ll send some men out here to see what happened.”

“Do you think Saltarian will hurt Mary? For not bringing me back. For not killing you.”

“Mary is an idiot, but they’re still useful. Saltarian won’t waste the energy killing them.” Copia had remained at your side, his hand sliding down your arm to rest on your elbow. “We should get going, Rain said there was a storm brewing in the mountains.”

He squeezed your elbow and gave you a gentle tug so you’d follow him. You looked out to the mountain ridge and bit your lip. You didn’t see any signs of storm clouds gathering, but you trusted Rain to know what they were doing. Oh, you hated storms! Missouri would get such awful ones in the spring and summer and you were always a nervous wreck during them.

“What will we do?” Copia stopped next to the horse you would be riding and peered down at you, seemingly a little confused over your question. “In the storm, how will we avoid it?”

“We usually don’t, Principessa.” His face softened as he looked at you, seemingly picking up on your nervousness. “But we can’t stay around here. It’s not safe, not with Saltarian’s men so close.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just, well you’ll poke fun, but I’m scared of storms.” You felt your cheeks heat a little bit at your admission and you glanced quickly at his face, expecting to see that smirk of his. All you saw though was compassion, his features still soft as his eyes traced your face.

“How many times will I need to remind you that I’ll protect you, eh?” His voice was stern but you could see the teasing glint in his eye. You smiled and nodded, the rest of your insecurities from Mary’s words fading away. He put a hand at the small of your back and nudged you closer to the horse, “Time to go.”

Copia helped you up much like he had done before, kneeling down and letting you put your foot in his hands to help lift you up onto the horse. It was much easier to do so now in the pants and while you still missed your dress, you were happy to feel more at home on a horse. Copia busied himself with adjusting some straps on the saddle before bringing his hands to your foot.

"Do you want to know the best thing about being rid of that stronzino, Principessa?" You raised an eyebrow and looked down at him expectantly, watching as he finished tucking your foot into the stirrup.

“What’s that?” Copia’s hand moved to your ankle, holding it in a loose grip. His eyes remained focused there, flexing his fingers around it a few times. The warmth from his hand was starting to seep into your skin through your pants and you couldn’t help but think about how good it felt. You were focused on his hand so much his voice startled you when he spoke again.

"With Mary gone there won't be anyone to interrupt us."

“Interrupt us? From wha–” Your voice cut off when his hand started moving from your ankle. It slid slowly up your leg, your cheeks starting to heat as it continued higher, only stopping when it reached your knee. He brought his other hand up to rest at your waist and you sucked in a breath, feeling caged in by him. It wasn’t anywhere close to an unpleasant feeling, but you still nudged your knee against his hand, trying to get him to answer. “Copia, what do you mean?”

He remained silent, but his eyes began to travel from where his hand rested on your knee, trailing up your thigh and higher. You could feel goosebumps sprouting over your skin as you watched his mismatched gaze take you in. Copia bit his lip momentarily when they rested at where his hand was on your waist before they continued further. It wasn’t until he was looking at your lips that they stopped again and the memory of when he had looked at them like that before popped into your head. Of when he had almost kissed you.

Oh.

You watched as a smile broke out onto his face, his eyes finally meeting yours. He took a few seconds to watch your reaction, your mouth had fallen open a little but no sounds were coming out. His smile just got wider as he watched the realization dawn on your face, both of his hands squeezing the flesh underneath them.

“We’ll have to find some time for that, eh?” With that Copia winked and gave you a final squeeze before he turned to make his way over to his Ghouls.

Oh.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

read chapter 6

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urtheloml · 1 year

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my love (boundless, cosmic, never-ending)

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader w/c: 2.1k synopsis: watching Everything Everywhere All At Once makes you think of the theory of a multiverse. your boyfriend isn't too pleased. a/n: idk i just thought bakugou would immediately tell you stfu if you told him to imagine an alternate universe that didn't have you in it hwhwhwhe <3 also: happy new year! i posted four times,,?? in 2022,, that's soo wild 4 me teehee :p anyway thanks for the support ily happy 2023

A crescendo rings, it echoes throughout the room and the sound bounces off the walls in your living room. The credits of the movie roll, the title 'Everything Everywhere All at Once' a stark white against the black background and if you squint, you can just barely catch your wide-eyed expression on the TV screen. Bakugou lifts his head off the couch arm, his face indented with lines from pressing into the leather. The room is filled with total silence, because holy shit.

"Babe, that was the greatest movie I've ever seen in my life. Like, ever."

Bakugou snorts, but he doesn't disagree, and he probably refrains from answering verbally because he doesn't want you to hear how scratchy his voice sounds. Even though you definitely saw him get teary-eyed, he refuses to acknowledge that he cried during the film.

It would be stupid to poke fun at your boyfriend though because if his eyes are just barely red, yours are practically bloodshot and swollen. How could you, or him, not cry? The film was centred around immigrant parents learning how to grow, how to accept their children and apologising in their own ways. It was bound to happen.

Bakugou gets up and you let your legs stretch out, laying down fully on the couch. He shuffles around the room, picking up stray pieces of popcorn that you both threw at each other during the movie. He switches the TV off, puts the bowls and cups in the sink and washes them for you too. All the while, your mind thinks about the theory of a multiverse, thinks about Katsuki and how different things could've been.

When he returns, he rolls his eyes at the sight of your wet cheeks. A hand, big enough to capture both your ankles, lifts your feet up and Bakugou sets them back down in his lap. Absent-mindedly, he starts stroking your legs, calming you down, like you were a cat and not a human.

"Why are you still crying? The movie's been over for ten minutes, you loser."

You can't really be bothered to call him something mean, not when your mind is working faster than your mouth and wide-eyed, you blurt out, "Kats, if the multiverse theory does exist, you realise that there's a universe where you and I never met? Or one where you and I hate each other and will never have what we have now- ow!"

The soft ministrations on your leg turn into a pinch, the skin stinging between his two fingers. Bakugou cuts off your rambling by doing so, and he eases the pain over with a kiss, like it never happened at all. He clicks his tongue, "Stop it, you know I fuckin' hate it when you start saying shit like that."

But you can't stop, your mind is whirring at speeds impossible thinking about every single life that he's not in with you. It makes you ache, makes you start saying stupid things like, "No, listen, Katsuki like it's an infinite multiverse, babe. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it but it's true so I think it's justifying me crying a bit 'cause in some life, you and I- hmprh!"

And suddenly, you're being pulled upright and Bakugou's covering your mouth with his hand, something that always takes you by surprise because it's so calloused but still so warm and it's such a contrast to his exterior, and he looks at you dead in the eyes and says quietly (steadily), "It's not true. It doesn't exist and it won't fuckin' ever."

Unbeknownst to you, in the midst of your rant that couldn't have lasted more than five seconds, Bakugou's traitorous mind assaults him with snapshots of what his life could've been without you in it. The moment you mentioned it, he saw it. He saw a life where there wasn't you by his side.

A meaningless existence where someone didn't drool on his shoulder on the couch, where someone didn't insist on holding hands even when it was hot out, where someone didn't take the time to pry him open and let him be loved as much as he loved them.

He saw it— living with your absence. How dull and colourless it would've been without you there for him to hold or to kiss in the mornings and afternoons and at nighttime. He let the foolish image of a life devoid of your traces play out in his mind, and it lasted no longer than a millisecond but he hated it. Living with no one to cook eggs for in the morning, waking up in a bed that wasn't warmed by you and going to sleep without letting you sink into him. It was moronic, incredulous, and it baffled him to even think about it.

He thinks of the time you forced him to look away from what he was cooking, just to dance in your small kitchenette to whatever song was playing in the background. There was no room to really sway you and his elbows kept knocking into the cupboards and he couldn't stop the grin from taking over his face.

You had laughed and it sounded like everything he ever wanted.

He burnt the food, you ate it anyway. He thinks of a life where the food had been cooked perfectly, and he would've had to eat it alone and it would've tasted bland and flavourless anyway. Nothing would've mattered, not one achievement or goal he reached, none of it would ever matter in any lifetime across any universe if you weren't right there beside him.

Bakugou releases you, letting you fall back onto the couch with a huff. He pokes and squeezes your legs, biting the inside of his cheek to try to cleanse his mind of the foul images he was forced to think of. Your eyes track every movement he makes, softening at the sight of him being so genuinely upset about this. He wears his heart on his sleeve, he plasters it to his big forehead and when you're around, he forces it into your hands and you're not about to break it now.

A breathless giggle slips from your mouth, and you manoeuvre your body so your head lays atop his lap now. He's pouting, and he doesn't hesitate before running his fingers through your hair, combing through any tangles. It's his love language, you know that.

You try to say something, anything to salve over the sour expression on his face. But he must have had the wrong idea because before you start to run your mouth, Bakugou covers your mouth again, against your muffled protestations. He glares at you from above and leans down to talk.

"I'm serious, shut the fuck up, because it's not fuckin’ true. I don't give a fuck if the multiverse is infinite, there'll never be a universe that exists in which I wouldn't fuckin’ love you. Because if every choice I make leads to another verse then there's nothing I wouldn't fuckin’ do to make sure that in every single life I have, I'd end up with you."

Oh.

You feel silly now that he said that. The fact that you even considered such an outrageous idea was stupid. You forget who you're dealing with. You forget that there are two of you, and the universe is no match against the force that is Bakugou Katsuki. What he wants, he gets. And it's no secret that he really only ever wanted you.

"You said it yourself, it's infinite. So it's not implausible that there'd be multiple versions of myself tracking down every life where there wasn't an us. I'd still love you, always, even if I didn't know you yet, so I'll just have to get myself to find you in every single life. Everywhere, anywhere— I'll find you, I promise."

Oh.

"So, if God forbid, there was such a cruel universe that you and I never met, then I'd jump verses for us and make us meet. Simple as that. You need me to use bigger words to get it through your thick skull, huh? Me and you, we're- we're boundless, cosmic, never-ending. It was always meant to be, the two of us. So stop fuckin' crying already, the only thing that's actually infinite here, is you and I, alright?"

Your eyes glass over, and then it shatters but you're tearing up for completely different reasons now. Not unexpectedly, Bakugou's right. He always is, and that's not unusual. Not when he says things like that, not when he shuts down every doubt you ever had in your head with a few simple words.

Reaching up to slip a hand behind his hair, you cradle his head in your palm. Bakugou relaxes, lets his cheek press into your palm and watches the affection dance in the colour of your eyes. You press a kiss into his palm, the one covering your mouth still, and watch the tip of his ears blush. He removes his hand then, letting it rest on your stomach.

He's right, of course he is. You let the worthless thoughts of the possibility of him and you ever ceasing to exist pour out of your mind. The ever-consuming fondness, the warmth associated with Katsuki and the love you have for him— it all takes up more than enough space in your head and in your heart. It leaves no room for any uncertainty.

But you're just as hot-headed and stubborn as he is, and you refuse to let him have the last word. And so you let your teeth sink into your lip, biting back a wild grin, you pull him down quickly by his hair. Kissing Katsuki never gets old, you think. It's always the same warm pair of lips against yours; a familiar dance.

So you lose yourself in the moment— you let Katsuki kiss you all soft and slow and lasting. He licks into your mouth and it shouldn't be as sweet as it is but it feels like it anyway. Laughter bubbles out of you, unbidden but not unwanted, and he grins against your mouth.

The whole situation was ridiculous, how a simple question had spiralled into Bakugou confessing his quite literal undying love for you. It was both so in and out of character of him that you had to giggle. He wasn't fazed by your interruption, he smiled all the same against your mouth, kissing you despite your open mouth and laughter.

And later, when the sun recedes and the moonlight pours into your window, it'll be quiet in the room Bakugou sleeps in with you. The only noise coming from the creaky ceiling fan. His arm finds its place, as always, around your middle— holding you like a heartbeat (constant, everpresent).

In the solitude under your covers, you find yourself admiring a privilege you never really realised you had. Bakugou's fast asleep next to you, his blonde unruly hair fans out against his pillow not like a halo. He's not that graceful, but his usually scrunched-up face was now relaxed. His expression is void of anything tense, practically defenceless laying next to you.

You weren't lying when you said he wore his heart on his sleeve. He's harsh and intimidating to the public eye, but when it comes to you, all his walls go down. It's unnecessary to be so guarded with you, not when he trusts you with his life, though he won't say it (he doesn't need to).

It's inexplicable, the way you feel your chest clench looking at him. It's a privilege; to get to be loved by him and to love him in return. It's something you take for granted, and you won't say it out loud lest you upset him again, but you think of a different life in which you're not allowed to do this. A life where Katsuki wouldn't tenderly kiss you on a beaten-up couch, where he wouldn't tangle his legs in between yours and fall asleep next to you. It's pointless to think about. He said it himself, it'll never happen anyway.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you lean over him and press a soft, lingering kiss to his hair. Bakugou smiles, and you lean in closer to whisper very softly, so you won't wake him, "I promise, I'll find you as well. Anywhere, everywhere, in all my lives, okay?"

Katsuki has a sixth sense, a you-sense, and he's sound asleep but somehow he understood what you've just said. He tightens his arm around your waist unconsciously, and you feel relentlessly and irrevocably in love with him, even though it's been so long, the feeling never wavers or wanes. It stays buzzing in your veins, a constant ebbing flow.

You fall asleep quietly.

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