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#chapter 3 part 1 B
sunyandmony · 1 month
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Meanwhile....
"Craftyy!! Oh come on! Just one!" Kickin' pleads, with his 'puppy eyes' (which are failing horribly).
"... Fineee-" Crafty reluctantly agrees..
"Hahhaa!! Yess!!" Kickin' jumps in victory.
A minute later..
"I'm not gonna paint you like that..." Crafty replies, unamused by Kickin' posing as he is. She drops her sketchbook, refusing to even believe he's being serious.
"Oh come on!...." Kickin' pouts, but continues his posing. Obviously he doesn't give up...
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Inspiration/idea for this part by @unknownamethyst09 !!:3
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soaps-mohawk · 2 months
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood Masterlist
Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.
It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 
As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.
Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Chapters containing smut are marked with a *
Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST
This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE
NAVIGATION PAGE Lore and world building masterlist CRCB Barracks Sims 4 Build Masterlist Support me on Patreon for more bonus content
Divider by: samspenandsword
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Part 1 - The Omega
Chapter 1 - The Introduction Chapter 2 - Adjustments Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful Chapter 5 - What I Want *
Part 2 - The Bond
Chapter 6 - One Step Closer * Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost Chapter 9 - Save Me Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*
Part 3 - The First Heat
Chapter 11 - It's Coming Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins* Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together* Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*
Part 4 - The New Normal
Coming soon!!
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daddy-socrates · 1 year
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geez louise try as i might, i really cannot get away from aristotle and a.n. whitehead. no wonder my professor calls process and reality her bible. i fully cannot move through this chapter without it smdh
#blah blah blah#thesisposting#@ my brain PLEEEEEEEASE there are so many more things i want to talk about!!!!!!!!! please please please give me enough space#to bring in the (admittedly short) bits from kierkegaard and feuerbach. i prommy i won't add the unrelated/tangential spinoza part#but there are a few kierkegaard quotes that i would really like to put into this section Including the sentiment that belief =/= knowledge#and the feuerbach lines lead me neatly into the 'by the way your opinions Should change with new information'#falls over. and thats all just parts 1 and 2 of this chapter. part 3 is what i Really want to get to. it will take me right into the last#though im a lil nervy about the last chapter bc it is a different place from my Big Contribution To The Philosophical World#a real nail-biter here#i may someday wr*te a b**k about the Big Thing but i fear that that may be the day i condemn myself to formal academia forever#...also if i talk about it too much some of yall will ask me to post it and i never shared my past papers w anyone here bc.#'oh YOU'RE daddy socrates? :/ ok'#<- anyone who discovers my secret identity tm#my past work (undergrad through second of three years of grad school) fucking SUUUUUCKED btw#i talked back then about being a little surprised to graduate on time and. whew. yeah i wouldnt have recommended me for grad school#at that point either. big respect to my undergrad advisor for keeping it real w me even though it hurt at the time#i knew she was right but like.#i may . invite her to my MA thesis. idk if she will make it bc finals season. but i want to prove to her that ive grown and i understand.#alright back to the chapter while my laundry is in the dryer lol
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spideyheart · 9 months
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not for us
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pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader
summary: miguel o’hara found the face of the woman he had loved (and lost) in his office, donning a spider suit with a warm cup of coffee in hand for him. he knew there were no second chances, not for the both of you. still, he couldn’t help longing.
warning: a shit ton of angst… i just cannot let this man be happy, can i? death of loved ones (an alternate you and gabi).
note: fun fact! i wrote this feverishly under my covers at 1 am. enjoy while we wait for me to finish ripping my hair out over chapter two of my miguel series &lt;3
miguel o’hara masterlist. | gif credit. | ao3 mirror.
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You were dead. Miguel knew this.
When he looked up and saw you, smiling with a warm cup of coffee in your outstretched hand, he thought he had been hallucinating.
He thought that maybe Lyla had been right— his lack of sleep and refusal to take care of himself for the sake of work finally caught up to him, but no.
You were real.
Standing there, donning the same spider emblem so many others did. His weary eyes traced over your face, taking in every detail his worn out state allowed for him to. He felt almost selfish for the first thought that came to mind.
You looked as beautiful as the day he lost you.
His heart lodged up in his throat and his eyes stung with tears as he heard the sound of a slight laugh fall from your lips.
“Well, are you gonna take the coffee or what?”
He swallowed quickly, picking his head up off of the desk he had fallen asleep on in a flash. Instinctively, he stood up straighter and brushed back his hair, some part of him still wanting to look good for you.
Miguel grabbed the coffee from you with a tentative hand, almost afraid that if he touched you, you would fade to nothing.
(Just as you had a year ago.)
He had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of his office. If it had been any brighter, he was sure you would be able to see the way his eyes glassed over, as you spoke, filling to the very brim with solemn pain.
“I’m Y/n,” You smiled, tilting your head to the side.
He almost flinched. He knew that.
“Y/n L/n.”
His chest squeezed. It had been O’Hara, once.
“Peter B. recruited me this morning and I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Of course he did. Miguel made a mental note to have a chat with his least favorite Peter Parker.
At his lack of a response, you fiddled nervously with your hands. “Um, anyway, I’ve heard that you’re a huge workaholic. I mean, you’re the one who started this whole thing, right? I just… thought you could use a little pick me up.”
You gave him a smile so warm it burned.
His face shifted with an expression that was unreadable. Too many feelings were festering inside of him. Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too many unspoken words.
His voice came out gruff. “Thanks.”
(He didn’t mean for it to.)
The smile didn’t leave your face as you nodded, taking backwards steps out of his office. “Of course, anytime. Take care of yourself, Miguel. It was nice meeting you.”
His door clicked shut and Miguel fell to his knees.
You were lying. Probably. Most likely.
The only word he said to you was thanks, that too in the least thankful voice he could have ever mustered. (God, he was an idiot, wasn’t he?)
Still, your answer was typical of your character.
You were a kind person. Someone that always sought to see below what met the eye.
You had also always been a caring figure. One that doted, poured love onto whomever you could, even in the smallest of ways.
You had been that way with Gabi— gentle hands, a guiding voice. And you had been that way with him in a way, too.
Slipping him snacks in his work bag, knowing his habit of forgetting meals. Pulling blankets over his slumped form if he ever fell asleep at his desk, knowing his tendency to drown himself in work. Giving him all the kindness you could offer, reminding him of how much you loved him, knowing his self-doubtful ways.
You were being that way now, bringing him coffee at even hearing that he overworked himself. You didn’t even know him… and yet…
Miguel’s heart felt like it was being crushed and he swallowed back a sob, eyes squeezing shut.
Seeing you alive and well was all he wished for, but he hadn’t thought about the pain that came with knowing that he could never show up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness for what he had done to you. To Gabi. To your world.
Because you weren’t his. This version of you didn’t love him, didn’t even know him.
(He supposed the other version of you didn’t exactly love him, either.)
“Lyla,”
His voice came out choked. He placed himself in front of his monitors almost robotically, hands moving absentmindedly to pull up and replay the same old home videos he tortured himself with for hours on end.
“Send out a message that I am not to be disturbed.”
𓂅
It had been an odd few months.
Miguel had spent more time with this… alternate you than he wanted, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was partially his fault.
He had made himself promise after promise, swearing to stay away from you— but you…
You were magnetic.
He was drawn to you the way planets and moons were drawn into their orbits — by a force so fundamental there was nothing that could be done to help it.
In the many missions he went on with you and in the small moments he had spent with you back at the society’s Headquarters, he had observed that you were different.
This version of you had a body that was littered with small scars, eyes that carried the certain pain that every version of Spiderman knew.
You were different, but so eerily the same.
You still laughed the way he remembered, with your whole heart, nose crinkling and eyes screwing shut. You still worried the same, always rounding into his office some way to another to check up on him. You made the same jokes, seemed to love the same things.
If anything, the small changes this new version of you possessed made him fall even more in love with you.
(He hadn’t thought that was even possible.)
Miguel had always known you were strong. But seeing that this version of you had remained softhearted — despite the many, many hardships that could have turned anyone bitter — attested to that trait even further. You were more resilient and kind than he had thought you were, and he adored you even more for it.
With the you that he had loved, he had known every nook. Every cranny. He had memorized every curve, every dip, every single part of you.
He had seen and touched and loved it all wholly, and now, some sick part of him was itching to do the same once again.
Miguel wanted to trace your scars, hear where they came from. He wanted to see every new part of you that was unfamiliar to him now, wanted to know if you still like being held the same, if your hair still smelled of lingering jasmine shampoo.
He shouldn’t be thinking about this. It was wrong. He knew it. You weren’t for him, not in this universe or any universe.
Because even the you that he had grown to love wasn’t meant to be his. He wasn’t the man that had raised your daughter, the man that had married you.
Still, what was more human than longing for what you cannot have? He had to remind himself over and over that he had tried that once.
He had reached for a happiness that was not written out for him. And the consequences…
His mind drifted to you. To Gabi.
To the way you had been close enough to touch, the way his beloved daughter had been in his arms. To the way you had both been so close and then gone like you were never there in the first place.
…The consequences had been devastating.
He would not make the same selfish mistake again. No, he wouldn’t. Happiness wasn’t for everyone, and he would force himself to live with that.
(Even if it hurt. Even if he longed for nothing more than you, you, you.)
𓂅
The mission had gone spectacularly downhill, and Miguel was in worse shape than he had ever been.
His body ached, but he bit back the pain.
He clumsily patched himself up and forced himself to carry on.
Miguel was in his office as he usually was, hunched over his monitors when you barged into the room.
“Miguel!” your voice was panicked as you made your way up to him. “Shit, shit, shit, I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
Your eyes were wide, swimming with worry, and Miguel had to force his gaze back to his screens.
“I am alive, aren’t I?”
“That’s not what I meant, I-” You let out a frustrated breath. “God, Jess told me you were almost killed and now you’re just… on your computer again!?”
“I have to file a mission report.”
“Nope. Not now.”
Before Miguel would even process your words, your hands were already looping around his arm, pulling him away from his work with all the strength your smaller frame could muster.
“You are going to rest. Now. Where is your room, do you have a bed here? Take me there, now.”
Being a man of his size and strength, Miguel could have easily resisted your pulling, but some small part of him wanted this.
(He missed being cared for. He missed your hands on his skin. He missed you and he hated himself for it.)
“Why are you doing this, Y/n. It’s the middle of the night, you should be at home.”
“And you shouldn’t?”
Fair point. That silenced him.
You stopped in your tracks, heaving in small breaths before turning to him. “C’mon now. Open a portal into your room. You need a bed and a good night’s sleep for once.”
If this were anyone else, he would have told them to get lost. Go home. Crawl back to whatever universe they had come from, but it was you.
Miguel swallowed thickly and did as you asked.
He could almost hear Lyla’s snickering. Hear the teasing remarks she would always pester him with about how down bad he was.
(You made a comment once about how the cafeteria should serve Spiderman themed burgers, so he discreetly made it happen. You said something about how you liked his webbed cape, so he made sure to always put it to use if you were around. You could probably ask for the sun as a joke one day and he just might be lovesick enough to give the impossible task a try.)
He could also hear her reminder that it was incredibly unhealthy for him to let this version of you be a temporary filler for the hole left in his heart after he lost the woman he had loved.
(The woman he was never meant to have.)
Still. He had opened the portal. Betrayed his promises to himself yet again and let you take him by the hand into his room.
His bedroom looked untouched. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep here, so it made sense.
You walked over to his bed, pulling Miguel with a small hand around his wrist, and stopped to point to the bed with a stern finger. “Change into some pajamas. Then get yourself here.”
The man grumbled, face flushing as he trudged over to his closet to grab a snug fitting cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He flicked the light on in his small bedroom bathroom and went in to change.
When he came back, pajamas and all, you were sitting on his bed, having drawn his covers back.
You caught sight of him and bolted up with a smile.
“You look nice! Er, comfortable, I mean.”
Miguel felt his heart flutter. (Was it stupid that you still had that effect on him? Probably.)
You cleared your throat and laughed nervously before giving his bed a small pat. “Sleepy time.”
Miguel didn’t know why the action felt embarrassing, why he suddenly felt shy.
He laid his head down on the soft expanse of his pillow stiffly, body rigid as he heard you shuffling around to pull up his covers.
You just about pulled them up to his shoulders when you took notice of how uncomfortable he looked.
“You look uneasy, is something the matter?”
“No.”
“Would you like a blanket instead? Or, or, a blanket with your covers?”
“No.”
“Is it too warm in here? Too cold?”
“No.”
“Did you clean yourself up right? Did you take meds for the pain?”
“No.”
“Aha! I knew it was something. You really have to start taking care of yourself, Miguel. Where do you keep your medicine? Oh! And do you have a nighttime version? It could help you sleep.”
Miguel let out a sigh, sitting himself up. He made a vague gesture towards a desk, one he hadn’t touched or used in months.
“There’s a drawer in that desk…”
“Perfect.”
You walked over, pulling the drawer out to rummage through the contents of it. “Shoot, looks like you’re out of pills. Guess you’ll have to settle for the liquid kind. Do you have a spoon?”
“Kitchen.”
“Which is… where?”
He forgot. You didn’t live with him, you didn’t know this home.
“If you open the door here and, uh, walk right.”
“Okay,” You nodded, giving him a soft smile before walking out. “be back in a sec.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quietly to himself as soon as you were out of earshot. Dios, he felt stupid. How could he forget?
Maybe you were right, maybe he did need to start taking care of himself. His head felt foggy. His back was tight, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
You returned with a spoon in hand, clicking his bedroom door shut as you walked towards him.
“I don’t want to spill any, so I’m just gonna…”
You were in front of him, pouring the medicine into the spoon, and then your hand was on his shoulder, steadying yourself so you don’t let it spill.
He was sure he’d scold himself in the morning for what he was doing, but just for now… just this once… he let himself melt into your touch.
His muscles visibly relaxed as he downed the tart tasting liquid. He let out a sigh as you pulled the spoon back from his lips. (Hand still on his shoulder, he noted.)
You bit your lip, brows knitting together as your eyes traced over his face. “I’m serious, Miguel, you need to start letting yourself rest.” You gave his shoulder a small squeeze and his heart was beating so hard he could hear it thumping in his ears. “Work is important, but so are you, okay?”
In that moment, Miguel almost felt like you loved him, like you were the woman who had been his wife.
Maybe if you stayed one night, if you curled up beside him and let him hug you from behind just this once, you could love him again, you could be his the way he would always be yours and the two of you could be happy.
Stay,
He wanted to say.
Please, stay.
But he wouldn’t allow himself to.
There were no second chances, not for the both of you.
Instead, he let himself say the things he so badly wanted you to hear in a way you wouldn’t understand.
“Perdóname, querida.” His voice was a mumble, barely above a whisper. “Te decepcioné, lo siento mucho, cariño.”
“S-Sorry, I don’t know much Spanish.” Your voice was almost self-conscious.
He gave you a small, tired smile. Eyes fond as they met yours. “Thank you.”
His voice was soft, almost gentle. He said it in a way that actually sounded thankful, this time.
You smiled and retracted your hand from his shoulder, assuming that those two words were what he had said to you in his native tongue.
“I said anytime, remember? You don’t have to thank me.”
You walked over to his desk and set down both the spoon and medicine bottle on its surface, sparing him one last look up and down before fiddling with the device around your wrist, opening up a portal. You looked at him one last time before swinging back into your dimension.
“Good night, Miguel.”
And just like that, you were gone. His room was once again cold, devoid of your warmth, and he was once again alone.
Miguel let himself fall back onto his bed. Limbs heavy, heart heavier.
He shut his eyes, and just as he always did whenever he let himself drift off into a rare slumber, he dreamt of Gabi.
And he dreamt of you.
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translations. please note that i do not speak spanish! i found these translations and words using the internet. if there are any errors, please please let me know! &lt;3
Dios (God) , Perdóname (Forgive me) , querida (beloved or darling) , Te decepcioné (I let you down) , lo siento mucho (I am so sorry) , cariño (darling, dear, or honey)
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wandasaura · 1 month
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𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒
༊*·˚ dom!wanda x soft dom!natasha x reader
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summary — when wanda and natasha decide to add a third party their marriage, they don’t expect to form a romantic connection with you. they especially don’t expect for you to hate wanda.
warning(s) — essentially a sugar baby dynamic to start, enemies to lovers with wanda, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, eventual mommy kink, shameless smut, aftercare, fluff galore. additional warnings are provided in each chapter. men/minors dni
au — wanda and natasha are ceo’s to the most successful law firm in the world because who could ever argue with them
PARTS — completed.
(1) the one you reached for [ 8.6k ]
(2) lovelorn and nobody knows [ 13.3k ]
(3) linger like a tattoo kiss [ 12.2k ]
(4) it was never mine [ 13.4 ]
ONESHOTS — parts will be added as written
(a) my face in a red flush [ 7.1k ]
(b) burning brighter than the sun [ 6.4k ]
(c) see what’s under that attitude [ 7.1k ]
(d) two people understand each other [ 5k ]
(e) too in love to think straight [ 7.4k ]
(f) love is a ruthless game [ 10.8k ] +
(g) the best thing thats ever been mine [ 7.2k ] +
(h) song in the car [ 5.5k ]
BLURBS — parts will be added as written
(i) end up dreaming instead of sleeping [ 1.2k ]
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hellishjoel · 8 months
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off to the races
6.3k / dbf!joel x f!reader
Series Masterlist | Next Chapter
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pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4
series summary: You and your parents rent a lakeside cabin, Joel and Sarah Miller are your neighbors. You’re all grown up, and you’ll do anything to prove to Joel you’re a woman now. 
warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), alcohol consumption, slight daddy issues lol, cursing, use of pet names, dominant!joel, maybe a lil brat tamer!joel, oral sex (m receiving), a lil praise kink, a lil degradation kink, facial, etc. you know ;)
A/N: needed to get cool slutty daddy out of my system. He’s just a Lana coded man!! I plan on turning this into a series, I hope it get's some love! let me know what you think by sending me an ask!
Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too.  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-”  His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?! “But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”
Summers in Danbury were what you looked forward to all year long when you were younger. You would love the long drive to the lakeside cabin, swimming in the dazzling blue water all day, and catching fireflies at night before ending it with roasting s'mores over the campfire. 
Now, all Danbury reminded you of were your parents stripping your feeling of independence as soon as you stepped in their embrace and the lack of cell service. 
It wasn’t all that bad, though. Who were you to complain about an all-expense paid vacation on the water? Your parents were fine, you just graduated from university, everything was just.. good. It almost made you a little bored, thinking about the impending summer. 
The warm sun’s kiss on your skin was a welcomed greeting after spending the past 9 months away at school out of state, your eyes twinkling below your sunglasses as you stepped out of the car. It was good to be back in Texas.
“Look, there she is!” Your dad cooed as he was eager to point out the sign that sat beside the entrance of the cabin that read ‘Life is Better at the Cabin’. Cheesy. It wasn’t your choice of decor since it was just a rental property, but still. You also despised the ‘The Secret Ingredient is Always Love’ sign in the kitchen. 
You plopped your bags down at the end of your bed, the one just down the hall from your parents, quick to plug in your phone charger though it made little difference with your lack of a strong signal. 
You turned your head to the window, seeing an old, beaten pickup truck turn onto gravel, a small smile peaking on your lips. 
“Hey, look who it is!” Your dad cheered eagerly from the living room, appearing to also be gazing out the window at the sight coming down the road and pulling into the house next to yours. 
The truck in question belonged to Joel Miller and his daughter, Sarah. Sarah had been your close friend each and every summer since you were little. You two were attached at the hip once your family started vacationing here, despite her being a fair five years younger. You two got along nonetheless. 
You stepped outside to greet them, as your mother and father were already out doing, your face lighting up as Sarah made a b-line to your embrace. “Oh my god! Look at you!” She praised, her eyes lighting up at your appearance. 
You two didn’t get the chance to spend the past few summers together due to business with school or internships on your part, so her surprise in seeing you a few years grown up was warranted. 
“Look at me? Look at you!” You said through punched lungs as she hugged you so tight you were losing your breath. 
If you thought Sarah’s tight hug was bad, you weren’t prepared to see what was waiting on the other side of the pickup truck. 
Your lips parted at the sight of Joel Miller. He was sort of… handsome. Was that wrong to think that? I mean, he was so much older than you, someone’s dad, Sarah’s dad. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long but his voice pitched into the conversation and you had been caught. 
“Hey, Skids.” Ugh. That dreaded nickname you had yet to wear off. “Haven’t seen you these past few summers. Happy to be done with school?” Joel’s southern drawl was a shock to your system after being up in the Midwest for school. 
He was tall and rugged, so unkempt. His hair was tousled everywhere and his beard was growing with salt and pepper stippling through the landscape of his jawline. He looked hot, the faint glisten and stain of sweat marking the collar of his shirt and at the sides of his biceps. 
You blinked a few times before a graceful smile fluttered on your lips.
“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You gently cooed. What? If he could call you by that horrid nickname he had given you when you were barely ten, you could call him by his surname. Your eyes caught his own shift, his jaw twitching at his name being called like that. It was just his name after all, right? 
“Joel.” He corrected with a raised eyebrow, your eyes finally dragging themselves away from his handsome character as they turned to your parents, who were obsessing over Sarah. She was about to go into her senior year of high school, so of course, they had all of the basic questions to ask her. Are you taking any advanced classes? Are you still on the swim team? Do you know where you want to go to college?
You tried to look interested, but you could still feel Joel’s gravitating stare in your direction. 
You were just imagining things, right? He was looking one foot over, to Sarah and your family. Except he wasn’t. You know because you snuck a casual glance over to him, and he was still on you. His gaze alone made a shiver travel up your spine. 
While Sarah and your parents were nestled in their own world of conversation, you take a few subtle steps away and join him by his truck. It still felt warm, the engine relaxing after a good drive in the Texas heat. 
“You need a new truck. She looks like she’s on her deathbed.” You point out, the one corner of his mouth tugging up as he kept his eye on Sarah and your folks with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 
“She’s just fine.” He retorts nonchalantly. You hated that about him. You could never figure out what he was thinking, unpredictable but not exactly chaotic. 
“She?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I always knew you had a special woman in your life. Didn’t know she was so old, though.” You egged him on, your favorite pastime in the summers; Grinding the gears of an old man who had a bigger attitude than you most days. 
“You still have quite the mouth on you. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.” Joel said sarcastically as he pushed himself off the front of the truck with his hip, his head nodding off to the side in a silent way of telling you to follow him. You watched as he pulled down the tailgate, rust screeching until it stopped with a generous thump. 
“Supposed to be Sarah helping me with this, but since she’s busy being Miss Danbury, you can help me.” He said as he pointed to some firewood and other bigger pieces of wood in varying sizes. 
“What do you plan on doing with all this wood anyway? I think the Amazon is looking for it.” You huffed but climbed up into the back of the truck bed without him asking you to. His protective hand instinctively guided your hip for stability, and you felt a rush of air pump through your lungs. “Thanks.” You murmur before you start reaching for stacks you could handle. 
“Sarah wanted to throw y'all a bonfire with it being your first day back for the summer or what have you.” Before you could stop yourself, you were already cooing at him as you jumped down from the tailgate, watching as Joel gave a tight face of annoyance. Don’t do that, you’re gonna get yourself hurt. 
It took Joel all of two seconds to grab two of the larger cut pieces, throwing each of them onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help but stare at his biceps that cradled the wood, the tan skin and muscles popping out of the dark green t-shirt he wore. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focusfocusfocus. 
“And the bigger pieces? What are those for?” You asked out of sheer curiosity now once he threw them down in the back of his lawn, the sight of your parents and Sarah long gone. 
He shrugged and shook his head, his hands on his hips as a layer of sweat started to build up around his hairline. “Just carvin’ projects. The rest can be used for scrap lumber around the lake properties.” His head finally turned to look at you, his eyes raking you up and down for a moment before nodding to your lake house rental. “Doin’ property maintenance over the summer on the houses ‘round here.”
“So if we need maintenance, we call you now?” You asked with a dubious face, to which he nodded. 
This man never stopped. It made sense, you supposed. You reflected on the summers in the past, knowing Joel to manage his own contracting business and picking up odd jobs around town. You remember one summer, he redid the flooring of an old bakery in town and then built custom shelves for the loaves of bread and bagels. Another summer, he repaved people’s driveways with blacktop. He was a laborer, a blue-collar man through and through. 
“That’s right, Skids.” The nickname made you scowl at him again, but you wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller laid under your kitchen sink or repairing the window in your bedroom so it could finally let in some fresh air. Frankly, you just wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller. 
After Joel reclaimed his daughter from your parents with a snarky yet subtle, Thanks for all your help, kiddo to Sarah, he said goodbye to you and your family as everyone parted ways back to their own homes. 
-
You were tired from the drive, but you didn’t lack attendance to the bonfire Sarah was putting together specifically for you in a welcome back to Danbury! sort of celebration. She invited the other nearby neighbors, so by the time you finally joined, it was packed with people sitting around the fire. People who lived on the lake loved a good party, anything with beer to keep them occupied. 
It was a lot of talking and bottles clinking, marshmallows on sticks, and a crackling fire blazing at the center of everyone. You weren’t one for beer but Sarah insisted on feeding you bottle after bottle. 
She liked sharing secrets with you, away from her dad. She considered you someone she could tell anything to. And you felt the same way. So not more than half an hour later, you two were giggling and sitting on the tailgate of Joel’s old pickup truck when you saw him start to saunter over.  You saw him coming first, snatching Sarah’s bottle out of her hand and taking a sharp inhale as you hid away your own. Sarah’s secret, right? 
“Dad,” she playfully whined when he came over to bust their little party. 
He was silent for a moment before he looked at the dwindling flames. “Fire’s gettin’ low.” He pointed out, looking between the two of you.
His face was lit up in a mix of gold hue from the fire and silver from the moon. His face had this intensity, a bucked-out jawline, cheekbone, and nose. It was like he was carved from stone. 
Sarah was silent, not wanting to leave behind her friends at the bonfire to shuffle over more wood. You softly nodded as you took a swig of her beer bottle in your hand before setting it down once you hopped off the truck bed. 
“I can help.” You offered. Joel looked down at you hesitantly, sneaking a glance to where your parents sat around the growing circle of people.
“Yeah.. yeah, ‘lright.” Joel said as the two of you walked off to the dividing line on his property, the wood you had dropped carelessly earlier in the day now in a neat stack. You certainly weren’t drunk, but slamming Sarah’s beer along with the other ones she ushered you before was now messing with your head, the edges of your vision a little fuzzy, especially in the dark since the glow of the bonfire was at such a distance. 
Before you knew it, you were stacking the wood into your arms, too much maybe. Joel called out your name in a warning tone. 
“No, I got it! See?” You tried to reason with a cocky smile as he shook his head. 
“You don’t like to listen.” He gruffly said as he started picking up the smaller pieces as they fell out of your arms. 
You couldn’t help the playful scoff that left your lips, still insistent on stacking more in your arms, going as far as tucking some in your elbows but all they did was drop at your feet once you went to reach for more. 
“Stop bein’ so damn difficult.” He piped up again as he snagged your wrist, halting your movements. 
“Yeah? I thought you liked difficult women.” Your words were fast like a whip, your eyes challenging his own as the two of you shared unnecessarily long eye contact. 
“Drop-- the wood. Stop bein’ a-” 
“A what?” You challenged. The distance between you two suddenly felt like it was becoming air-tight, his eyes narrowing on yours as his features hardened. He didn’t look mad, lord knows you’d never want to actually make Joel Miller mad. He just looked-- provoked. 
“A brat.” He finally bit, your teeth clenching at the name. The shock of it all made your arms finally burst open like a dam breaching with water, all of them falling to your feet as you let out an involuntary squeal. God, you did not want him to hear that noise leave you like that. 
You finally tugged away your wrist from his hand, your eyes leaving his daggered gaze to examine your palm that had a decent size splinter plunged into the center of it. 
“Shit,” You swore, feeling whatever heat you had left in your body pooling to your stringing finger. 
You heard Joel let out a debated sigh before he took you by your wrist, much more gentle this time, and tried to bring it up closer to his eyes to examine it. 
“Can’t see for shit out here.” He grumbled. You couldn’t see it either but you could feel right where it spread searing pain through the rest of your hand. 
“I got some tweezers in my workshop, I’ll get it out.” Joel offered as he started walking a few paces but you let out an involuntary whimper at the sound of him taking it out. 
“You don’t want that to get infected, do you?” He asked with a true voice of reason, to which you let out a sigh of agreement and followed him to his workshop.
You had only been inside Joel’s workshop a handful of times. You remember once your dad dragged you over so he could talk to Joel about his truck, and you had to wait there and wait there until they finished gabbing. Another time was when you explored it on your own, your eyes fascinated by the little world he surrounded himself in. It wasn’t all wood like you’d expect it to be. He had old guns mounted on the wall, ladders hung up in the rafters, and dusty old fishing plaques that made you disgusted at the sight. It housed his tools, the same ones he had been using for years. He knew where they were by heart, not even looking when he reached for something. Everything had its place, down to the tweezers he immediately found in an old little toolbox. 
“Here,” he said as he pointed to an old metal stool as tall as your waist. You sat down on the cold metal, a little hiss of discomfort leaving you as he sighed. “Always somethin’.” Joel shook his head and offered you a spare dusty blanket, shaking your head. 
“Just-- fix my hand. Please.” You said as you displayed your palm to him, now seeing it in the light for the first time. Okay.. it didn’t actually look as bad as it felt. Joel actually smiled as he looked at the tiny sliver shoved into the skin. 
“..Might have to amputate it.” He said with a half-serious tone, as joking as Joel could sound. But there was a little glint in his eye, one of satisfaction from his own joke.  
“Joel Miller has a sense of humor? I’m surprised. And pleasantly delighted.” You teased as he huffed and shook his head, the smile that graced his lips already came and gone. Sort of. He just looked down at your hand so you couldn’t directly see it anymore. 
It took you until now to see that he changed out of his dark green shirt from this afternoon and into an old 80’s rock band shirt with a worn dark navy flannel over it. He must have showered after laboring in the Texas heat. The thought made your stomach churn in excitement. 
You shivered at how cold you felt all of a sudden, no longer by the warm fire and on this damn metal stool. You shifted uncomfortably on it, cursing yourself for wearing jean shorts. 
Joel let out an exasperated sigh as he stood up straighter and shoved off his flannel, your eyes softening at the sight. 
“You want me to take tweezers to your hand but you keep... shiftin’ around. Stand up.” He directed, and this time you didn’t debate with him. You hopped off the metal stool and he laid down the flannel. It was a nice gesture and you were grateful. You hoped the goosebumps were from the temperature, not how close he was. 
Joel pulled up another metal stool so he could steady himself, reeling himself in as close as he could and holding your palm open in his as his eyes squinted a little bit. 
You felt frozen in place, your lips parting as you slowly looked down to one of his knees that parted between your own legs. Fuck. You weren’t sure if it was the little buzz of beer still in your system but something drove you to have enough courage to gently lay your hand just above his kneecap. 
His eyes flicked up to yours, trying to read what was behind your thought process right now. He looked so confident, you feared you looked all shifty. 
You could feel the worn denim of his jeans under your palm but underneath, he was warm. He was as hot as a furnace as your body craved it. 
“The sliver.” You pointed back out, your voice smaller since you two were in such close proximity. You watched his chest heave as he took a deep breath, grumbling something under his breath before he focused back to his initial task. 
You pursed your lips as you both watched and felt the tweezers line up to the red and irritated skin, his movements precise and patient until you watched him clench the tool closed. 
You let out an involuntary breath of both relief and anticipation, just wanting it out already. 
“Hold on, just gotta make sure I..” Joel’s voice trailed off as he slowly pulled the tiny sliver from your palm, an uncomfortable whine leaving the back of your throat. 
His thigh twitched under your palm at the sound, not even realizing your hand had sunk higher up his jean-clad thigh. 
“Got it.” He finally said, swiping the tip of the tweezer on the table to display the nasty little piece of wood that had caused you all this grief. You let out a breath through your nostrils and nodded. 
“Thank God, no amputation.” You joked, to which he awarded you a small smile. 
“I’ll call the surgeon and tell ‘em to turn around. We’re good here.” Joel said as he gently released your wrist. You watched his features carefully, seeing his lips part as he glanced down to his leg that your hand still held for balance. 
“What’er you doin’?” He finally asked, his voice dropping an octave at the question. Shit. 
Don’t read this wrong, or this will be the most awkward interaction you and Joel have had to date. This is worse than when he saw you fall out of the inner tube while boating, worse than when some kid tripped you at the town barbeque, worse than when you fell off Sarah’s scooter so hard that he gave you the nickname Skids. 
“Woah, Skids! Better slow down!” God, that was so many years ago. His chuckle still echoed in your ears.
Now you were older, you were a woman. You had long legs and glowing skin, and a smile that knocked guy’s out of the fuckin’ park! But he was older too, older than you, younger than your dad but god, not by much. You were so close to him, you could inhale the distant smell of the bonfire, the one he probably made instead of Sarah. He also smelled like an old spice deodorant and fucking cigarettes. 
He was stingy, and greasy, and hot, and Joel. 
Your years of anticipation thinking about him like this was over. 
You bit down on your lower lip, your mind was foggy with the rushing in your heart,  feeling your ears pound and your palm still seared. He was a head taller than you while you sat together, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his pulse. 
Your lips lingered around his neck for a moment, the sensitive skin of your mouth feeling beard stubble and tasting distant cologne. Your breath fanned over the skin, clammy but sweet with his sweat. 
He didn’t stop you, his eyes merely watching you carefully. 
“What’er you doin’?” He asked again, but this time, his words sounded more-- goading. Do it, I know you won’t. You’re chicken shit. If you know what you want, do it. 
Your heart raced as you nearly leaped off the stool, closing the distance between you two as you stood between his legs. Your hand moved higher on his thigh, so close that you were nearly touching the leather of his belt. Your mouth returned to the sweet spot of his pulse while your injured hand reached up to the opposite side of his neck to gently hold him there. 
“Joel,” you whispered his name breathlessly, asking him for more, feeling his head drop down beside yours. You feared you embarrassed yourself, he wasn’t reciprocating, he wasn’t--
The thoughts brewing in your head bubbled down to a boil as his firm arm wrapped itself low around your waist, keeping you to his front as he pulled down to look at you with a stern look on his face.. You were so fucked. 
Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too. 
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-” 
His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?!
“But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”
His words surprised you. He didn’t think he could walk away from you right now? Holy shit. 
Your heart was pumping so hard under his watchful gaze, seeing his eyes look from yours to your parted lips. But he didn’t kiss you, you don’t think you would let him. It felt too intimate. You just didn’t want another boring summer in Danbury and you were determined to have a fling. 
Who knew it would be with Joel Miller. But you wanted him. 
Your brave hands took him by the chest of his shirt, your mouth moving to his jawline as you balanced the tightrope of kissing and nibbling on the skin before your hands moved south to find his belt buckle. 
His legs naturally parted for you, catching a brief smirk on his lips as you took control of the situation. 
“Dirty girl goin’ right for my fuckin’ cock.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, a desperate nod leaving you while your cheek involuntarily rubbed against the stubble of his beard. You didn’t know he talked like that.
You initiated more space for yourself, nudging the inside of his thighs with your own legs as you had his back up against his drafting table with you no longer on his side but standing in front of him. 
Your quick fingers desperately undid his belt, feeling the old leather under your fingers. You didn’t have the balls to look at him and frankly, you were afraid you would lose your nerve if you did. 
His hands were encouraging for your nervous system, firm palms planted into your hips and even going as far as to squeeze the flesh that sat under your jean shorts. His body warmed you up, his eyes admiring you as you plucked open the button on his jeans. 
You pushed your tongue against your cheek in concentration, all of a sudden desperate at the thought of having him in your mouth. You dragged down the zipper, the relaxed denim exposing the black briefs he wore underneath that hugged his tan hips. 
You slowly sunk to your knees before him, as if you were worshiping a God. Maybe you were, it was Joel Miller, after all.
“This what you were learnin’ off at school?” Joel belittled, your head doing a few quick nods as a flush stained your cheeks. God. Something about Joel calling you a slut had you in a tailspin. You couldn’t wait anymore. 
Your fingers delicately felt over the impressive growth that his briefs held down, biting down on your bottom lip as you let your pointer finger make the outline of his girth. 
He let out an audible grunt at the action, his jaw jutted out, and his eyes filled with lust. “Lemme see that pretty mouth.” He practically purred, your chest rising and falling in anticipation as you slowly opened your mouth for him. You felt the intrusion of his thumb, a guttural moan leaving your throat as your big eyes stayed on his. He pinched at the inside of your cheek for a moment, your eyes twinging closed and opening back up with twinkling tears on the brim of flowing. 
“Good girl, keep that mouth open for me.” He encouraged as he pushed two fingers past your lips, testing you. And you were more than willing to accept his little challenge. His fingers pushed on the back of your tongue, feeling your lips graze all the way to his knuckle as you worked on breathing through the feeling of his fingers shoved down your throat. 
You were determined for him not to get the best of you, to prove how you had some experience under your belt. Your tongue willingly swirled around his digits, humming softly as you suckled. Now it was his turn to look like he was ready to fold. You felt him swell in your hand, the hand still stroking over his erection in his briefs. 
He ripped back his fingers, leaving them with a pop to your lips. Holy shit. You took a few deep breaths and swallowed, blinking back the tears that his fingers provoked from going so far down. 
“Damn, baby, look so pretty down on your knees for me. Don’t make me wait ‘ny longer.” Joel’s breaths were heavy, his southern drawl exaggerated in his lust-filled state. 
A proud smirk laced on your lips, his eyes on you as he watched you pry down the material of his briefs, watching as he lightly lifted his hips off the stool and using the drafting table behind him as leverage to let his jeans and boxers rest comfortably around the top of his thighs. What you had been craving slapped eagerly into the palm of your uninjured hand, an unexpected little moan leaving you. 
You studied his cock with anticipation, the glowing pinkish-red tip glistening with pre-cum from all the anticipation. He was generous in size, he would be the biggest you had ever taken. He was just… grown. You let out a satisfied little mmm, smirking up at him as your fist wrapped delicately around the base as you pumped over just the bottom half of him. 
Your hand came up to push some hair behind your ear but Joel was quick to handle that for you, stroking the stray pieces back behind your ear and then planting his palm right on the top side of your head. He tried to guide you closer but you just continued to smirk at him, a desperate grunt leaving the back of his throat. 
“Don’t play with me, kitten.” The nickname had you fawning, much better than the other nickname he had given you in the past. Maybe this new one would replace the old, the girl he dismissed before now a woman whose attention he craved. 
You guided his tip to gently tap at your flattened tongue, using his base to guide him until you generously wrapped your mouth around his leaking head. He let out a satisfied hiss which made you smirk, knowing you were the one making him dance on the line between pain and pleasure. 
You let out an involuntary mewl as the fist he had made in the back of your hair forced you further down his rigid member, feeling wet tears threatening to spill over your waterline as his tip nudged against the back of your throat. He said not to play with him and you disobeyed. 
Your palms flattened to the front of his thighs as you pushed yourself off of him, gasping for air as you swallowed the mixture of your spit and his leakage that clogged your throat. 
“So fuckin’ pretty chokin’ on me like that, such a pretty face.” He sneered, referring to your teary eyes. But the compliment made you blush and the choking and sobbing was all of a sudden worth it for the praise. 
After that, you craved to take all of him just like he wanted. Your head worked in subtle bobs, taking inch by inch of him at a time. Sometimes his hand in your hair guided you, allowing you to take him with confidence as he let out disgusting groans and low moans. 
Your gluck, gluck, glucks filled the shed, hot pants leaving your mouth around him but not willing to let your head up. Trails of your saliva attached themselves from his balls to your lips, the sight being a trophy for your hard earned deep throating. He was already so close, you couldn’t bear not to taste the prize you had worked so hard for. 
All of a sudden, Joel stood up from his seat at the drafting table and you couldn’t help but show a look of disappointment. You thought he was done, going to leave you like a mess on the floor with bruises on your knees from the cold concrete and your slobbery mouth feeling his loss. 
Your wet eyelashes fluttered as he returned to fist the hair at the top of your head and angled your face upward, watching as his other hand yanked on his member. The sight made your jaw drop. 
“Where do you want me to finish?” His words were pained, stretched thin as he tried to hold out for an answer from you. But you wanted him to finish, you wanted to watch his face contort from the wake of his orgasm that you helped create. 
“Mmm,” you hummed out as you purposefully prolonged his finish, watching as his chest puffed and his skin grew rosy from the heat flooding his body. Your cockiness was punished by a tighter grip in your hair, yanking your head closer to his shaft to force a real answer out of you. Your scalp stung but only a smile was on your face. 
“You wanna cum on my face, Mr. Miller?” You asked in the most innocent tone you could muster, your mouth parting at the sight of him. He looked heavenly. The glow from his shed lights made him appear as if he had an angelic glow. But you knew he was hellish, nothing close to an angel. 
Joel let out a scoffy little grunt at your question, a wicked smile gracing his lips as his hooded eyes slowly fell completely closed as the shock of his orgasm coursed through his body. 
You eagerly watched and you hated how hungry you knew you looked right now. You licked your lips, eager for his taste, eager to make the Joel Miller cum. You were desperate. 
His cock began twitching in his hand, watching as he methodically yanked out his own orgasm. His eyes lazily glanced between his shaft and to your large eyes, slowly smirking at the sight of you holding out for him. 
“Let me see that tongue, darlin’.” His words were breathy, just on the edge of no return. You obeyed, dropping your jaw and flashing him your tongue as you fluttered your eyelashes. At the sight alone, he finished himself off with eager grunts and short moans, you swore one of them was your name. 
His hot cum landed on your face, your eyes closing in satisfaction with a cocky smile. Most landed on your tongue, a few piping hot white strands splattered like paint on your cheeks and nose. All the air in your lungs left you as he tapped his pulsing tip eagerly against your tongue, watching with his jaw slack as he let the rest pool onto your tongue and down your throat. 
You swallowed knowing he was watching, his hand in your hair relaxing. He tasted better than you expected, a new craving. 
Instead of fisting your strands, he started stroking them away from your messy face, praising you as he tucked himself back into his pants.
Both no longer in the hot fantasy you swore you imagined once, you tried to collect yourselves. You shakily stood up from the ground, your knees cold from the concrete. You wipe off any dust or dirt they may have collected, sneaking glances at Joel as he fastened his belt around his waist once more and popping the button of his jeans back into place. 
You glanced around for a tissue, your back to him as you cleaned up your face. Oh my god, you were wiping Joel Miller’s cum off your fucking face.  As the two of you pieced yourselves back together, he reached for his discarded flannel that he had given you still resting on the metal chair you previously abandoned before settling between his legs. 
“Said you were cold. Take it.” He said as he fisted some of the material and looked at you expectantly. You sighed before gently taking the material and wrapping yourself in its warmth. 
As he placed a bandaid on your palm to cover your futile wound, you admired the flannel in all of its unknown beauty. 
It was one of his older ones, you sort of felt bad because you could only assume it was one of his favorites. It adorned a few minor holes and rips, some of which were badly stitched back together in an attempt to salvage it for another few years. Despite its appearance, you melted into it because it smelled like him. It smelled smoky like his cigarettes or maybe that was just the residual smoke from the bonfire. As you walked outside, you could smell it clearer.
Sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon, you wondered what cologne he used. 
Your head was lost in thought as you began to wander back towards the bonfire, a sharp clearing of his throat bringing you back to your senses. You whipped around, seeing as he pointed to the stray wood you had dropped from earlier.
“Oh-” you said bashfully as you returned to the pile with him, both of you knelt down picking up stray pieces. Once you started piling the wood in your arms again, he let out a short chuckle from deep inside him as he held your wrist from stacking more. 
“That’s enough for now, just go.” You liked seeing his face lit up like that, knowing you were the cause of it being even better. 
“Okay, Mr. Miller.” You cooed quietly, his face hardening at the name of adoration you had given him. 
“Okay, Skids. I’ll be seein’ you.” He said with a tight nod of his head, his eyes directing you back to the fire. You set down the firewood by the rocks surrounding it as a barrier, clearing your throat as you returned to the tailgate. You could still taste his cum on your tongue. 
No one seemed to notice your trip taking unexpectedly longer than necessary. Your parents were both swaying their heads and laughing, empty bottles by the legs of their folding lawn chairs to explain their obvious lack of awareness. 
Sarah had joined up with other friends in your absence, but you didn’t mind. 
You finally had a moment to reflect on what had just taken place in Joel’s shed. You let your vacation house neighbor cum in your mouth. Your older, stoic, stubborn ass of a neighbor. 
As if on cue, Joel returned to the side of his truck with his body leaning against the tailgate. His jean-clad hip lightly grazed your thigh, glancing over to see him offering you a beer. 
“Since you’re all grown up now.” He said with a little spark behind his eyes. You nodded and took the opened beer with a growing smile. 
“Cheers.” He offered as he held out his bottle to clink with yours. 
“Cheers to another summer in Danbury.” You tell him. 
He cocked his eyebrow and glanced over to you one more time before he focused his eyes on the growing fire. 
“This one ain’t quite like the rest.” It almost sounded like a promise from him. You hoped it was. Because you were wearing his flannel and you were on his knees for him tonight, you wondered what experience of Joel could offer you this summer. 
---
read part 2 - dark paradise!
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undercovercameron · 9 months
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summary: you're relaxed and calm in the obx summer heat, and rafe simply cannot have that.
notes: filthy filthy filthy! sorry not sorry bout it. also minor obx 3 spoilers; ie his parents are on that damn island and its just him in their big ole house. semi public sex kink and def a choking kink beware or be scared! i truly cannot write anything without that damn hand around reader's throat.. that's my b. enjoy! also thank you so much for all the love on my fics and the followers... so excited for all i will write in the future and so incredibly full of love from you guys <3
tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader
word count: 2542
The whole day had been perfect. 
You woke up around 9:30, brushed your teeth, and went downstairs to have some oatmeal. By 10:30 you were in a bikini and setting out a towel on the back deck. 
The sun was fairly hot, but the early warnings of a storm gave a cooler breeze. Your towel was in the perfect spot between the shade where you could get full sun coverage without moving too much. 
Gentle music was playing from your speaker, something that sounded like what your mom listened to in highschool, and a couple vodka seltzers laid unopened in a small cooler for you to enjoy later. You were also halfway through a mystery book, and between the pages of every chapter you let the time drift away from you. 
The most relaxing part of the start of your day? Rafe had left the house around 9 and had yet to return by the time you cracked open your seltzer at 1 o’clock. No ranting, no typical Rafe-isms— just sunshine and Paula Abdul. You wished he was able to do this with you. 
It was so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep a little more than halfway through your drink, head resting on your folded arms. 
“Y/N.” Something rigid and distinctly shoe-like nudges your arm. “Baby.”
You just groan and turn over onto your back, arms following to protect your eyes from the sunlight. 
“Hi,” you croak, squinting, and peer up at him. He looks like the Statue of Liberty in this light— if the statue of liberty wore light wash jeans and slutty little beer brand t-shirts. (So on brand for him.)
“How long have you been out here?” He asks, bending to pick up what’s left of your seltzer for one final swig. 
“Since like 10:45.” Your face breaks in a yawn and your arms fall to the deck as your eyes get used to the light. A smile creeps onto your face. “What’ve you been doing?” You sit up on your hands, scanning his body. He looks kinda sweaty. 
“Um,” he starts, scratching at his forehead with a sigh. “Buncha shit. Went into a couple places to close Ward’s accounts with them—oh, I saw your mom at Cold Stone by the way.”
“Why were you at Cold Stone?” You grin, crossing your legs and pushing at his calf with your foot. He makes an innocent face, hands on his hips. He looks to the trees, playfully exasperated.
“Sometimes I need a milkshake, Y/N. What kind of question is that?” You snort. “Anyway— I think we should go out for dinner. It’s getting to be—shit, it’s almost 4.”
You’re silent, save for some puny, whiny noise you make at the mention of going out. You struggle to get up, a little wobbly on your feet, but Rafe catches you and hauls you up with a hand on your waist. 
“What?” He brushes the wispy hairs out of your face. “You don’t want to go out?” He searches your face, blue eyes squinting down at you, and you just pout. In the most mature way a 20-something can when faced with leaving her very rich boyfriend’s very nice house who has asked her to stay with him graciously for the very near future while his parents are retired on some island in the middle of the ocean. 
You curl a finger around the collar of his t-shirt, playing with it while you formulate an answer. 
“Where would we go?” Is what you settle on, ever the people pleaser. 
“I don’t know…” Rafe thinks, gaze drifting from you as he chews at his lip. You wind your arms around his shoulders, hands splayed across his wingspan. You pet the skin of his neck with your thumb, warm all over. You’re content just looking at him forever. 
“What if I’m hungry now?” You ask, ever so innocently, and Rafe thinks you’re serious until he catches the look on your face. 
“That right?” He grins, hand sliding down your back. He grabs at your ass and you squeak. “How hungry? Wait until after dinner?” He’s just teasing you honestly; it’s almost a hobby to see how desperate you get for him. 
“Rafe.” You pinch his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”
He just hums noncommittally, and dips to press a kiss to your neck. You shift up onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, and he hikes one of your legs up onto his hip. You can’t help the noise you make. 
“Rafe,” you breathe, grabbing at him. “We have to go inside.” He bows forward, dangling you towards the wood of the deck, and you just hold tighter onto his shoulders. 
“Why?” He murmurs, lost in your taste, and presses a kiss to your mouth that makes you shiver. “I don’t see why we have to.” He falls into a kneel, bringing you with him, and you suck in a surprised gasp. “Nobody’s around.”
“Somebody could be, baby,” you say, chancing a look around, and huff out a sigh when he lays you onto your back. This man. 
“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world before following you down. 
This bikini might be his favorite. He likes anything that will leave as little to the imagination as possible, but this one is his favorite shade of blue. Almost matches his eyes. 
Your warm skin feels like silk on him, and when you wriggle when he presses a hand to your inner thigh, his dick jumps. 
“Relax, Y/N,” he breathes. You roll your eyes. 
“How can I, Rafe? You’re so—aggravating.” You huff. He’s still wearing his shirt, too. You tug at the sleeves of it. 
“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head, lips pursed. You just nod, pulling again at the fabric of his shirt. “Why’re you so wet, then?” He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans and your eyes lock on it.  
“I’m not.” You look back up at him, self-assured to a fault, and try to will the dampness between your legs away. He just stares down at you, unimpressed. “I-I’m not.” Your thighs close. 
“That right?” He murmurs, and wrestles your legs open again with an arm. His fingertips brush the crotch of your bottoms and you jolt, breathing hard out your nose. He lifts your hips and pulls them clean off, tossing them to the side. 
He’s silent then, gaze locked between your legs, and he carefully guides your legs back until you can grab them by the back of your thighs and keep them out of his way. 
“Not wet, my ass,” he murmurs to himself. His thumb rubs at your clit, and your sigh of pleasure ends in an impatient whine. He spits. “This pussy—,” he starts, but can’t finish. 
He just bows and gets his mouth on you like he’s been thinking about since he left the house. Your head slams back against the deck almost immediately. 
His large palm flattens to the back of your thigh and pushes your leg even further. The muscle strains but you can handle it. 
“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue pushes hard through your folds. You’re really fucking wet. You wonder briefly if it’s because of how hot it was today, then cast that out of your mind completely when you hear Rafe groan. Your body vibrates with it. 
His hands suddenly drag you by your hips, closer to his face, and he hums again. 
“Taste so fucking good,” he muses, spitting at you, and glances up at your face. You can barely keep your mouth closed like this. “Brat, lying to me.”
You whine, every second of him talking taking his mouth away from where it so desperately needs to be absolute torture, but settle when his thumb begins tracing circles into your clit. 
“Fuck me,” you breathe, back arching and leg muscles straining, and Rafe just laughs into your cunt. 
“I will,” he murmurs, and you would roll your eyes if you could— but he pushes two fingers into you. His thumb spurs back into motion as you sing, throat already sore. He knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers, and you let him know right there is where they need to be. 
“There you go.” He spits a third time, watching it mix with your slick. “Squeezing me so tight, honey,” he assures you, smoothing a hand down your thigh. If you could find words you’d agree. 
You manage a “yes, shit,” before you go mute and your eyes roll back into your head. You squeeze around him like a vice, your legs flooding with warmth, and he fingers you through your orgasm. He can’t pull himself away when you get like this— you’re so soft and warm and perfect that he genuinely wonders if he could ever fuck someone else again. He knows the answer is no. 
Your abdominal muscles spasm and jolt as you come down, neck straining to look at where his fingers give you a final stroke and find their way to his mouth. 
“Fuck, Rafe,” you half-laugh and half-moan, head falling against the deck. You chest heaves as you catch your breath. “This is embarrassing.”
“What?” He says, voice hushed, and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Being on the deck or how quick I can make you cum?” He grins. 
This time you can and do roll your eyes. 
“Both,” you sigh, legs falling to their place around his hips. You curl up into a sitting position and pet his arm, coming back to reality. He smells like sunshine. “But you still haven’t fucked me yet.”
Your fingers trail down to his jeans, fingertips ghosting over his zipper. He hums in agreement, eyes following. You play with the button for a second, just wanting to tease, but pop it and unzip the fly. 
“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” You ask, reaching up his shirt to feel his hot skin. “That time on the beach,” you purr, voice hushed and eyes wild. 
“Yeah?” He bites his lip and sits back on his ass, taking you with him in his lap. Your knees bend and you sit comfortably on the seat that is only yours. “You thinking about my hand?”
“Mhm.” You lean and kiss at his cheek, trailing down to his jaw. “And something else.” You dig a hand down into his boxers and curl your fingers around his dick. 
He’s hot and almost slippery, so hard you’re sure it’s painful. Your wrist slides against the tip and his hand on your ass curls into a fist. 
You lean back, wanting to see his face, and watch as your touch washes over his body. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing, and you smile sweetly. 
It’s then that you shift into your knees, hand squeezing his dick, and sink down onto him.
His fingers fly up to your strained face and grasp your neck, immediately tight around your throat. Not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough for your pulse to quicken. 
Exactly what you’d imagined. 
“You like that?” He pants, breath fanning over your cheek when you turn slightly and grip his shoulder for stability. You just nod and circle your hips. 
His thumb on your chin guides your face back to his, wanting to see you fall apart, and you make a whiny noise. He feels where it starts and ends between his fingertips. 
You ride between the strain of his hand around your throat and the movement of his body, head tilted back and mouth wide. Your fingers grip his shoulder and bicep as you ride. 
It’s a difficult job, balancing the rhythm of your hips with the ache blooming from the muscles in your thighs, but you make it work. 
You hear the bashfully whiny groans he’s exhaling into your ear and you make it work. 
“You feel so good,” you whisper hoarsely as his hold tightens, chin tilting towards the sky. He grits his teeth and pushes his hips up into yours. 
You scramble to grab onto his forearm and hold back your shriek. 
The tightness of his fingers around your throat blur the lines of pleasure and pain, making it hard to catch a deep breath and ride him at the same time. 
“Fuck, harder,” he stutters, almost whispering, and you nod furiously. Your thighs meet his lap, over and over with a noise that makes you blush even more than you already are, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises or at the very least a red mark. 
He releases your throat and anchors himself with your hip and the small of your back, and when you finally gasp for air at the loss of his pressure on your neck he uses all his lower back strength to wedge himself deep into you. 
You know you’ll have bruises there. 
You push hard against his forearm as your back arches and the tension in your lower abdomen comes to a peak. Your toes curl where they are at his side.
Your vision comes in and out of focus as you cum again, blood white-hot in your veins. The climax is almost numbing. Addicting. 
At this point you have no idea the noises you’re making, probably all gibberish and definitely humiliating, but the rushing in your ears is too much. 
Rafe shudders and groans loudly into your ear, spending himself inside of you with a grunt, and you follow him as he falls back into the deck. You catch yourself with a palm on the sun scorched wood. 
“Jesus Christ,” he pants, heart pounding and chest heaving. Sweat coats his buzzed hair in a shiny sheen, and your whole body is so sticky you feel like you could peel the layer of perspiration off of your body. 
His hands still lazily hold your waist and they begin their ascent to your neck. He feels your pulse with the space between his thumb and forefinger, and his face splits into a grin at the feeling. 
“I definitely am going to need some food after this.” You push yourself back up into a sitting position and put your hands on your hips as you finally catch your breath. 
He looks so beautiful, half in the shade and half in the sun. Laid out beneath you. Still inside. Like some kind of god. 
The hot sun is in his eyes, and his body is numb with the tension spent in his muscles. Rafe half wonders if his dick is still fucking there. 
He barely feels when you crawl off of him and stumble into standing. He jerks up into a sitting position, that familiar ache in his back present, and grabs for your leg. He winces at the stretch. You should really be paying his chiropractor bill. 
“Where are you going?” He accuses, voice scratchy in his throat. 
“I need to shower, baby.” You bend to pick up your bikini bottoms. “We’re going to dinner, aren’t we?” You smile and turn back around to go inside, ass bare and a huge red mark in the shape of a large hand curved around the trunk of your throat. 
Yeah, drive-up it is.
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WASTELAND, BABY!– ellie williams x reader
hi! I'm writing a new series that happens after the events of TLOU II. it's an enemies to lovers. A story about ellie eventually finding happiness and love again. She finds her light; and so do you.
Before you read the summary– please read this. Free Palestine. Do not consume tlou fanfics without educating yourself about its zionist themes.
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*SUMMARY: You had decided to give life one last try. That was it. After the events in The Last of Us Part II, Ellie decides that the only way to find peace is to turn herself in to the fireflies. She finds a lead; they tell her to find you, a young woman who wanders around with no purpose. When she eventually does, you refuse to tell her where the fireflies are; if she finds them, everything that you did in your past would've been for nothing.
You embark on a journey together, walking through rain, snow and through the darkest places this cruel world has to offer. What neither of you expect, broken and traumatized, is to find the light again in each other.
LINKS: read it here. playlist.
C.W/GENERAL TAGS: enemies to lovers, AFAB reader, eventual smut, gun violence, ellie kinda kidnaps you?, suicidal ideation (both ellie and reader), r! is wounded, PTSD and trauma, triggering flashbacks. canon violence in the game, depression. Overall heavy themes, but happy ending i promise!
"For the world is Hell, and people are on the one hand the tormented souls and on other the devils in it." (Schopenhauer, On the suffering of the world)
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CHAPTER 1: One last try. You encounter Ellie. She follows the trail of blood you were leaving. You refuse to give her the information she wants. So, she drags you through the entire state of Montana. "You’re bold for someone unarmed and bruised, with a gun pointed to their head"
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CHAPTER 2: Courage, dear heart. A small flame inside you ignites. you finally have a purpose; to mislead her, and to escape from her. You come up with a plan, and that involves earning her trust. just enough until she becomes sloppy. But you can't let her see your skills; she might see you as a threat. That plan quickly goes to waste when you encounter a large group of clickers.
“I could kill you right now,” she said, holding your own knife against your throat. Her knuckles were white from how much force she was using. Her features were almost unrecognizable.  “Then you’d break your promise,” you said. “Promises mean nothing in this world.” 
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CHAPTER 3: No one left to sing to
The rain doesn't stop, so you and this strange girl are forced to stay inside the cave. You're feverish, disoriented. After a conversation in which she mentions the fireflies, you decide to go through her journal to find answers. And you do.
"Are you a firefly?" she asked, like she had just read your mind, or you were thinking out loud. “not a firefly,” you said. you held back a laugh, but she saw the flash of a smirk. You, the reason why they were gone after Salt Lake City, a firefly. “Definitely not.” you paused.  “are you?” you asked.“No.” She analyzed your features, trying to read you.“Do you want to become one?”Her gaze drifted towards the wall behind you, and not your eyes anymore. Somewhere in you, you knew that for some reason it was a sensitive topic for her. “it’s not that– I owe them something. I have for a long time” 
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CHAPTER 4– Your blinding light Summer 2033, Boston QZ You waited for Hannah to come to you. Life in the QZ was simple for you; being confined in between four walls, listening to your mom's Beatles cassettes, and sneaking out past curfew. That is, until your mom slowly starts abandoning you. "Maybe Hannah was the only one you had, after all"
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CHAPTER 5– This darkness i'm condemned to
Ellie and you finally reach the nearest town. And your plan is successful; you finally lead her to danger. What you failed to account for is that this danger can harm you, too.
“took them out right?" you said, trying to test the waters. Trying to sound lighthearted, but failing completely at it.  "Damn right you did," she said.
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CHAPTER 6: The injury of finally knowing
taglist: since i impulsively deleted my old account, i'm tagging my old taglist. it's still me! the bitch that wrote the abby greys anatomy AU! you can still join my taglist here
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@kissesskittens @zahraaziza @uraesthete @elsvrse @lonelyfooryouonly @ximtiredx @ellabsprincess @spaceshipellie @machetegirl109 @sc0ttstre3ted @taylarxse @carmellie @mayfieldsz @brooklynvwilliams @rinarchy @elliesgffr @wannabwanted @ellabsweet @sapphic-and-sappy @imyour-favouritegirl @andersonsgirl @heyabimina @novadanversss @mulan-but-gay @lez-zuha @abbys-sweat-wife @maribelo-o @peppesgirl
if your name is crossed out, it means I can't tag you– please check your settings and follow these steps!
dividers by @saradika-graphics.
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writerslittlelibrary · 2 months
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So, I'm not a prisoner? part 2
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masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra
summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…
pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader
warnings: like, one swear word 
genre: fluff, angst
words: 2554
a/n: I apologise if this chapter isn’t the best. I’m in a bit of a depression slum so I’m not really motivated to do anything right now. I might come back later and fix this chapter a bit
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work
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After leaving the apartment, you immediately noticed the SHIELD agents piled up outside. They must have been listening to your conversation. 
Natasha led you towards a SHIELD car, opening the door for you, allowing you to get in. She got in the drivers seat, and followed by about a dozen other SHIELD trucks, she drove towards an airport nearby. 
The Quinjet was waiting at the airport, Clint Barton apparently inside of it. 
“I know this must be very overwhelming for you,” Natasha spoke, glancing towards you before focusing on the road again. 
You stayed quiet, instead staring out the window as you watched all objects blur. 
“I promise you we are going to help you,” Natasha affirmed. You turned your head, looking at her. 
“You can’t honestly sit there and tell me you are certain they won’t lock me away the moment I set foot in there,” you stated, and Natasha looked at you, giving you a sad smile. 
“I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you won’t be locked away,” Natasha started, focusing back on the road and taking a deep breath. 
“How can you be so sure?” you asked. 
“I’ll think of something. I can put you under my supervision. I can lock you in a room and make sure you can leave it with me. Anything. I will come up with anything,” Natasha assured you. You didn’t want to believe her. You didn’t believe her, yet for some reason, whether it was her tone or the way that she spoke, you couldn’t help but deep down, believe her, even just a little. 
You sighed and looked back out the window, wanting nothing but to wake up from this nightmare. 
Yet then again, if this were a nightmare, wouldn’t you just wake up in your old one?
Your mind was a mess, and you could hear all the voices in your head scream at you. You saw Madame B every time you closed your eyes, just yelling at you. Telling you what a screw-up you were. Telling you all the ways that you failed them.
You always hated Natasha Romanoff for being a traitor, but now you met her, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were wrong. 
And even if you weren’t, you were now officially a traitor as well. 
You wanted to make Dreykov proud. That’s what you were supposed to do, right? If you made him proud, you’d get rewarded. You were the pride jewel. He loved you, didn’t he? He cared about you. You weren’t some disposable Widow. You knew that. But, then again, he was the one that told you that. And could he really be trusted? 
You groaned slightly, rubbing your temple with your right hand and you closed your eyes. 
“Everything okay?” Natasha asked, giving you a concerned glance. 
“I’m fine,” you bit back quickly, hating to look weak. Natasha didn’t take you response as hurtful. She knew you weren’t actively trying to hurt her. She understood the way you were raised, and she’d be damned if she, or anyone else, would ever misunderstand you. 
The drive to the airport didn’t take long, and soon enough you could spot the Quinjet from the car. 
“You brought the Avengers superjet…?” you asked, and Natasha gave you a small smile as she nodded. “That’s not exactly subtle…” you told her, yet Natasha just shrugged. 
“It’s fast,” she responded, driving the car as close as she could get it to the Quinjet. Once she stopped the car, she got out, walking over to your side and opening the door for you. You didn’t acknowledge it as you got out, immediately noticing the other SHIELD trucks that were parked closely. 
Some agents stood outside their cars, their hand on their weapon as they watched you. 
You noticed a woman walking towards you, and you took a step back when you decided she was way to close. 
The woman didn’t acknowledge your defensive attitude, instead holding up a pair of handcuffs and reaching for your hands. 
You pulled your hands back, and before the woman could say anything, Natasha had noticed what was going on, stepping in front of you and stopping the woman. 
“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, despite the fact it was obvious. 
“It’s protocol,” the woman claimed, yet when she tried to step towards you again, Natasha stopped her. 
“She came willingly,” Natasha stated, but the woman just shook her head. 
You noticed neither of them were going to give up, and quite honestly you just wanted to get rid of the woman. And so, you took a step forward, holding up your hands to the woman, giving her an expecting look. 
Natasha looked a bit shocked, yet didn’t take long to place her hand on your arm. 
“You really don’t have to,” she stated, but you interrupted her. 
“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you stated, and the woman nodded as she made quick work of handcuffing you. 
After she was finished, Natasha gently took your upper arm, leading you towards the Quinjet. Clint Barton was already waiting on board, having a small smile on his face when he spotted you two. 
“Hey kid, nice to see you turn over a new leaf,” he said, yet you just scoffed. 
He didn’t seem offended, but rather just smiled and turned the chair around, facing the control panel. 
He pressed a few buttons, and the Quinjet closed.
“Take a seat. We’ll be flying for a few hours,” Natasha announced, and you nodded as you held up the pair of handcuffs. 
A look of shock and confusion took place on Natasha’s face, before she quickly regained herself and gave you her famous smirk. 
“Damn… You’re good good,” she told you, and you gave her a small smile before you sat down on a seat. 
Natasha discarded of the handcuffs, placing them in some cupboard before taking a seat next to you. “I know you’re scared, and I know you’re not showing it, and you’ll never admit it, but I promise you, I will make sure everything is gonna be alright,” Natasha said, looking forward, not wanting to pressure you.
You would of course never let her know, but you appreciated what she said. You would indeed never admit it, but you were scared. 
You weren’t just scared of the Avengers, though. You were afraid of what Dreykov would do to you. You were afraid what he would think, and what he would say. He would be so disappointed. Natasha Romanoff was right there. The traitor is sitting right next to you. You could so very easily just kill her. Slit her throat. Her guard was down. She would never see it coming. Dreykov would be so proud. 
You weren’t sure whether you wanted to kill her, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself debating whether you should kill her or not. 
Never once in your life did you think about killing someone or not. Never once did you think about the consequences. I was always just another assignment. Another person you had to wipe from existence, and you never, ever, dared to give it a second thought.
This experience was weird for you. 
You didn’t really want to kill Natasha, but yet again, you were supposed to, so why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you really cared whether Natasha lived or died. Did you?
You simply sighed and let your head fall back against the wall behind you, closing your eyes and letting your thought run through your head. What would Dreykov say? You knew what he would say. Deep down, you knew he didn’t care. 
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After the Quinjet landed, Natasha and Clint guided you through the Avengers tower, claiming they need to take you to an office so you could speak with the director, Nick Fury.
You, of course, knew exactly where that office was, yet you decided to keep your mouth shut and just follow them. You didn’t want to make this situation worse for yourself. You knew the entire lay-out of the Avengers towers, and you were pretty certain Natasha was aware of that. 
Once you took the elevator and made it to the office, Nick Fury was sitting behind his desk, Maria Hill standing of to the side with a clip board in her hand. 
There were Shield agents standing outside the door, and you were pretty sure they were there to make sure you couldn’t try anything. 
“Take a seat,” Nick Fury simply said, and you looked at Natasha unimpressed, before you took a step forward, setting yourself down in the seat at the other side of the desk, across from Nick Fury. 
“You understand we cannot trust you, correct?” Fury stated, and you looked him in the eyes, enough for him to accept it as a yes, apparently. 
“Director Hill,” Fury then mentioned, getting up from his seat. 
Maria Hill walked towards the desk, placing her clip board on it as she sat down herself. She gave you a small smile. You didn’t return it. 
You were focused on your surroundings. Clint had left the room. Natasha was leaning against the wall next to the door. She probably didn’t want to disturb the conversation, yet she didn’t want to leave you alone. Maybe she just wanted to keep her eye on you. 
Before Fury walked away, he turned to look at you.
“Don’t fuck this up,” he stated, before walking towards the door, leaving the room. 
You turned your gaze back to Maria, who had picked up a pen, now waiting for your attention to turn back to her. Once it did, she began speaking. 
“I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and you just try and answer them to the best of you abilities,” she explained, and you nodded slightly. 
“Could you please state your full name and date of birth?” 
“Y/n, the rest I don’t know…” you replied, and Maria nodded. “Do you have any idea of how old you may be?” she asked and you nodded, giving her your assumed age. 
She wrote the information down, scratching some things out on the clipboard before turning to the next question. 
“Do you know where you were born?” she asked, and you nodded. 
“I was born in Russia, but I’m not sure whether my parents were Russian,” you explained, and Maria nodded as she wrote it all down. 
“Have you always been in Russia?” 
You shook your head, briefly telling her about certain mission you had been on that took longer than a month. 
There was that time in Seattle, when you lived with another Red Room Widow pretending to be your mother. You had gone to an actual school, and you had had actual friends. 
There was another time in the Netherlands, when you were with a Hydra agent. Something about a debt Dreykov owed to Alexander Pierce. You had been chosen for a mission with a Hydra agent. You were posing as a normal teenager, whose mother passed, which is why your father moved you all the way to the Netherlands. You enjoyed the learning the language, yet you found it one of the harder ones to master due to the many odd rules. 
Maria wrote every single detail you told her down, not missing a single thing as she made sure everything was on paper. 
After a few more questions, and many ‘I don’t know’s’ from you, Maria finally put her pen down, smiling at you gently. 
“That’s all for now,” she explained and you nodded. 
“Come on,” you heard Natasha say, and you got up, walking towards her. 
“See you later,” she told Maria before guiding you out. Were they a thing? Did Natasha see how Maria blushed? Did Natasha notice how she herself blushed? 
Whatever. 
Natasha led you towards the elevator, pressing a button, then entering a code. You learned about this. To get to the living quarters of the Avengers tower, you had to enter a code. This was to prevent any unwanted visitors in the living space of the Avengers. 
Once the elevator opened, Natasha led you out, guiding you towards a hallway. You followed her the entire way, making sure to walk at least a metre behind her. 
You weren’t allowed to walk next to your superiors, and even though you weren’t sure what you place in this tower would be, you didn’t want to take any chances. You didn’t want to stray to far from the manners you were taught. 
Natasha probably noticed, but whether she did or not, she decided not to mention it. 
Eventually, she stopped in front of a door, pushing a key in the keyhole and unlocking it. 
“This will be you room,” she smiled and pushed the door open. “My room is across from this one, and the only other people in this hallway are Wanda and Carol, but she is not often on earth,” Natasha explained, and you nodded as if you didn’t already know it.
You stepped into the bedroom, and it took you a moment to process the fact, that all that space, would be yours now. 
“Do you like it?” Natasha asked, waiting by the door. 
“It’s so… big…” you stated, slowly walking further into the room. Natasha smiled as she made her way towards another door. 
“This is the bathroom. I stocked it with some basic supplies beforehand, so you’ll probably be good for a little while, or just until we get the chance to go shopping,” Natasha stated as she closed the door again. 
“This is the closet,” she explained, walking over to the piece of furniture and opening it.
“Right now, there are just some things from me and Wanda that will probably be wearable for you, but we’ll get you some new clothes soon,” Natasha smiled, and you nodded. 
Natasha walked over to the desk, sitting down on the desk chair and looking at the ground. It seemed she had something to say, and it would be something you wouldn’t like. You took a seat on the bed, across from her, and simply waited until she spoke. 
“Now, because we do not know you, we cannot just let you roam freely around the tower. I managed to convince Fury you shouldn’t be put in a cell, but unfortunately, this door will have to be locked until further notice,” Natasha explained and you nodded. 
“He’d be stupid not to,” you replied, and Natasha nodded, giving you a small smile.
“I promise I will come check on you often, okay? And you can leave the room if you are accompanied, so I will make sure to take you on some daily walks or something, alright?” Natasha explained, and you nodded, giving her a smile in return. 
“I promise you, everything will only get better now,” Natasha told you, and you nodded as she got up, walking towards the door. 
“I’ll get you something to eat, and some entertainment,” she explained, and she left the room. 
Suddenly, you were left alone. This was your room. You made the choice. You were officially a traitor. There was no going back. You did this to yourself. You royally screwed up. Or perhaps, just maybe, you made a really good choice?...
Tags: @wandanatlov3r @tobiaslut @natashasgirlll @xanthreee
Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey
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naturesqueen23 · 3 months
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A Second Chance PT 5
Summary: After the loss of his daughter Miguel wants nothing to do with kids that is until he impulsively offers his pregnant neighbor a job at the Spider-Society.
Tags for this chapter: Grumpy x Sunshine, Double life, Secret Identity, Fluff??, Vulgar language, Miguel x reader, Spiderman 2099 x reader, 8.4k words (Sorry for the long wait hopefully the ending makes up for it as the plot thickens😏 Appreciation letter at the ending<333)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
Can you believe it? A man like him is having a hard time speaking all because of the presence of some—some girl. There has to be a glitch or a tear in the universe because this makes no sense. Miguel is a confident man. It's really hard not to be when he's the mastermind of creating the Spider Society. Maybe it's just….because it's been a very long time someone wanted to take a deep dive into his mind or maybe it's just because you cared. Whatever the reason is for it the whole time he was talking his face was burning up beneath his suit to the point it was almost too hard to breathe.
This isn't like him; he's not a shy or a nervous person. He's a man who takes pride in his work and everything that he does so this current feeling of nervousness or whatever it's called is not like him. At. All.
Finally finishing up with telling his story he keeps his eyes glued to the screens in front of him. He watches from his peripheral as you get up and walk over to him. Every moment he's with you he thanks the universe that he has to wear his mask when he's Spiderman. With all the awkward moments that he has with you, he doesn't know what he would've done if you had to see his face every single time. He's positive you would've teased him for it.
You stop a few feet next to him looking at the screens before looking back at him. “Your brain is really amazing. Not everyone has the knowledge to do what you've done”
“Yeah I know”
“Do you think I could have a tour before I officially start? As someone who can't walk on walls this place is scary” He can hear the nervousness laced in your laugh. He feels bad he didn't mean to forget about you both earlier. Technically he didn't, he had 2 screens with a camera view of the lobby, and the entire street of the building he was prepared to get you. He just…got lost in his work as usual.
He sighs as he turns to look at you. “I don't have time to do tours. I'm busy” He stares at you for a little bit, assessing your features he hates when you do that. It looks like the lights in your eyes just got snuffed out by his words. He groans only for a few minutes and then he'll go straight back to work.
“Fine, I'll only show you the places that you can walk on. My time is limited so you have-” He pauses the second his ears pick up on Peter's voice. He doesn't want you to meet Peter or any of the spiders at all. Honestly, he wanted to avoid you meeting Jess as much as possible, and look how well that went. There's really no need for you to meet the other Spiders you meeting them alone would just bring him a headache. He's sure that they would bother you both and you wouldn't even tell them to stop because you're too nice.
Pressing the button that allows the platform to rise he uses his index finger to motion you to come closer. “Spidey why did you just-” 
“Stop talking” When he hears them coming closer he places a hand on your forearm and gently drags you backwards towards the screens. He tries his hardest not to look down at you but it's hard when you are more than 5 inches smaller than him. He uses his body as a barrier to prevent you from being seen.
You lower your voice to a whisper. “Miguel, what's going on?” When they finally enter his office he groans it's all of them. Gwen, Peter, Hobie, and Jess surprisingly Patvir isn't there. He should've known Jess probably told them about you.
“Hey Miguel, how's your day going? I heard you got a new assistant.” Miguel places his fingers to his lips signaling you to be quiet but he hardly doubts that's going to actually work. He's sure you would talk to the plants outside if given the chance.
“Leave me alone I'm busy” 
“Aw come on we're friends don't be like that” 
“Jess I find it hard to believe that Miguel would actually speak to another woman who isn't Lyla”
“Yeah, I second that” Miguel tries his best to drown them out and focus on the screens but easier said than done. 
“I'm going to end up coming up there if-” He cuts him off immediately. “Peter I swear-”
“Dammit Mayday honey come here. What did I tell you about climbing the walls” Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Mayday crawling over just above the platform but her eyes are glued on you. He watches as a big grin emits on your face as you stare at her. You take slow steps towards her before turning back around to look at Miguel as if asking for permission. He sighs even though he could stop you he doesn't have it in him to do so. He gives you a nod just as Mayday stops in front of you. 
•°~°•
You watch as the little girl stands up slowly before using her hands to signal you to pick her up. You happily oblige slowly bending over and placing her on the left side of your hip. “Hey little munchkin” You use a finger to poke her stomach and she giggles and does the same thing back to you.
The sounds of her laughter have to be contagious because now you're laughing as well. A fresh set of tears fills your eyes as you can't help but imagine her as your own daughter who will be here in just a few months. You turn to look at Miguel only to catch him already staring at you. Maybe he wants to hold her? You begin to make your way over to him-
“Mayday sweetie—Oh my…you're very pregnant” You stare at the man in a pink robe and you give him a small wave. 
You gesture to the little girl in your arms. “Is she your's?” He nods his head and he takes slow steps towards you.
You watch as his eyes dance between you Miguel and the little girl in your arms.“Are you with Miguel?”
“Yeah, he's my friend” A smile emits on his face as he walks towards you. He holds out his hand and you happily accept it. “Any friend of Miguel is a friend of mine, I'm Peter. Miguel is actually my best man-”
“I'm not” You turn to look at Miguel right when the little girl in your arms ends up resting her head on your chest. You look down realizing that she's fallen asleep. The dam breaks and you immediately start to cry biting on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from making any sounds you turn to show Miguel.
Through your tears, you smile at him. “Spidey look s-she's fallen asleep” You walk over to him when you notice that he's not looking at you. His right hand lays against his chest around where his heart should be and he's rubbing it rather harshly. What is he—yiu pause as you feel a hand on your shoulder preventing you from going any further. “He doesn't do well with kids….come let me take her from you she's heavy when she's sleeping” The man takes back his daughter before trying to carefully put her back in the carrier.
“It usually takes me hours to get her to sleep. Thank you” You give him a small smile as you stand there watching the little girl. You can't wait till it's going to be your own daughter in your arms. “I'm surprised he got an assistant Miguel doesn't-”
A deep sigh can be heard behind you. “She's not my assistant so stop calling her that”
“Yeah well me and the other Spiders definitely came to check in on you and not to see your new….uh your new lady friend?”
“Oh, there's more of you?” Placing a hand on your stomach you walk over to the edge making sure not to step too close as you lean over to get a better look. Leaning over just a smidge you peer over the edge giving a big smile to the three spiders you see below. Oh, you even recognized one of them, it's Jessica.
“Hello everyone I'm-” You jump back when a red web shoots out in front of you and lands on the other side of the platform preventing you from going any further. 
You turn your head to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.
Miguel stands next to you with his hand holding onto the web as he stares down at you. “For fucks sake you're pregnant, not indestructible tell me what you think would happen if you lean over the edge of a platform” You fold your hands across your chest sending him a glare. “Spidey stop cursing she can hear you and I just wanted to say hi” You hear a snort followed by muffled laughter from down below.
“This can't be real”
“Seeing this actually makes me want to come here now”
“Y'all are going to make him come down here hush” You lock eyes with Jessica and she gives you an apologetic smile. “Ignore these two kids” You glance over at a boy in a leather jacket and his suit has holes..? Then you look at a girl in a white Spiderman suit and a pair of converses. Yeah, they're definitely kids. You give them a wave and the boy just nods but the girl waves back. Feeling the platform beginning to lower you watch as Miguel retracts the webs as he subtly holds out a hand in front of you.
You roll your eyes at the action; he probably thinks you're going to fall over with a single breeze; it's not like you're going to jump. Once the platform finally lowers you begin to walk over to Jessica but you feel a hand on your lower back inching around your waist steering you in the opposite direction.
“Don't think about it, you'll talk to her later”
“But Miguel-”
“But nothing they won't leave us alone if you walk over to them now. Talk to them later when you don't have stuff to do plus I got—no there's uh ice cream downstairs for you” You look up at him as he presses the button for the elevator. He's trying to bribe you, isn't he? It's sad to say but it's actually working.
“You're not slick, I know what you're doing… but thank you you didn't have to get me anything” 
“I didn't…it was just there” You turn to face him as the two of you finally step into the elevator. “So you're giving me ice cream that was just…there wow. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
He shrugs his shoulders.“I don't know, what do you want me to say? When I was cleaning up the basement it just happened to be there” You look at him in disbelief he's planning on giving you ice cream that could've been there for god knows how long.
“So you’re telling me that a tub of ice cream just happens to be there and the first person you thought of was me, a pregnant woman to give it to?”
“You're the only one who eats that nasty flavor”
Rolling your eyes at his statement you turn to face the elevator doors just as they open. “Well into the garbage they go I don't trust some random ice cream that has probably been abandoned by their owner for good reasons. It could be expired for all I know”
“Well it's not I checked it”
“Too bad I don't trust that”
You fold your arms across your chest following close behind him as he walks into the basement. It's huge and compared to the rest of the building this floor is the least colorful. It's monotone. The walls, the crates, and the floors are all the same color ash brown. It looks….depressing. You can't work in here like this, you gotta figure out a way to get color onto this floor.
As you walk into the room you realize that all of the boxes are on the very top shelf. There's no way in hell you can reach that or even get one of them down.
“Hey what's with all the boxes being on the top I can't reach it” He gives you a nod and you look at him confusingly.
“Yeah, that's the point you're only doing a box a day. Nothing more, nothing less. There are over 30 files in a box you're going to overwork your brain” You begin to protest. “I'm going to be working down here for hours it's not going to take me a very long time to organize 1 box Spidey”
He shrugs his shoulders. “If you finish a box in a day feel free to stay until your shift is up but you're not doing any more work than that. Even if you're halfway done with a box and you finish it you're not moving on to the next one.” You scoff at him, this is unbelievable. Why is he acting like this?
“But Spidey-” You stop when you see a mini fridge from behind him. Beelining to the fridge you push past him and bend down to check what's inside. You go to pick it up in order to get a better look when you feel him nearly pushing you out of the way. He picks it up with ease as he grumbles about you lifting heavy stuff. You drown out the sound the minute you see what's inside of it. It's filled with mint chocolate ice cream about 5, maybe 10 cartons, and then jars of sliced pickles. 
You glance up at him before looking back at the fridge. There's no way all of this was just sitting in there he had to have gotten this for you. But why won't he just say so? You know what it's fine you'll get him to admit it one way or the other.
Overexaggerating your sigh you turn away from him. “It's too bad all this will be going in the garbage. I'm not eating this when I don't know who it's from.”
“I told you I checked it and it's fine” A beat passes as he places the mini fridge on a nearby table. “Fine if you wanna waste someone's money go ahead”
“If I knew who it's from, we wouldn't have this problem. Why are you being so grumpy today, Spidey? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Deciding to take the extra mile you walk over to the fridge and take out two cartons of ice cream. You're honestly salivating by just looking at it.
“It's a shame all this is going to waste” You walk over to the garbage and right as you're about to let go- “I bought it this morning from the store” You smile at his words.
You place a hand to your ears signaling him to speak up. “I'm sorry what was that” You stare at him as he walks over to you. “I brought it for you there I said it. Happy?” He takes the ice cream from your hands and puts it back in the fridge.
You hear him mumble under his breath. “I didn't know what other snacks you liked so this is all I could think of. The cafeteria is too far for you to just walk and get a snack but whenever you're ready for lunch let me know and I'll-” He pauses when he finally turns around and looks at you folding his arms across his chest. “What now?”
You stand there with a big smile on your face as you watch him. “Nothing I'm just not used to princess treatment that's all”
“You're pregnant”
“So are you going to say that every time you do something nice for me?” You slowly walk over to him and you don't know why but you decide to pick an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. Maybe it was just an excuse to touch him. Hmmm, that's not weird at all.
“It’s not nice….it's common sense”
“Mhmm, so you do this for Jess as well?” You stare at him and because of the mask, you just assume that he's staring right back at you.
He straightens his back and somehow he grows even taller. “What are you getting at?”
You let out a sigh. “Nothing Miguel, it's just nice that you care” You stare at him a little longer and surprisingly he does the same. Or at least you think he does.
“You plan on staying down here with me, Spidey?” His eyes narrow before he takes steps around you. Walking to the elevator he presses the button and steps in. You wave at him just as the doors begin to close. 
“Come upstairs if you need anything” You nod your head.
“I mean it”
You playfully roll your eyes. “Okay”
“Okay,” He gives you a nod right as the doors close. You sigh and turn around when you feel her kick. “Are you sad to see him go too?” Walking to a nearby table you feel her kick almost immediately.
“Yeah me too baby…me too” You rub circles on your stomach as you whisper to her. “We'll see him when we go get lunch. You think he'll sit and eat with us.” You wait for her to maybe give you a sign but you don't get anything. “Yeah I figured…come on let's get started with work”
•°~°•
It's now 3 pm and you've started to lose focus, and the names are jumbling up together. You grab a carton of ice cream and open up a jar of pickles. You place a few pieces of pickles into the ice cream before heading upstairs.
You reach the top and you look around for Miguel only to find him suspended in the air on the platform. “Hey Spidey” You stand there at the very bottom almost breaking your neck to look up at him. You wait for him to acknowledge you but he doesn't.
“Spidey? We're hungry can you maybe take us to the cafe-”
“I’m working Lyla will take you”
“But Miguel-”
“I said I'm working” His voice is stern and surprisingly loud and you don't want to push it any further. Feeling your shoulders deflate right as Lyla fazes in next to you you follow her as she leads you to the cafeteria.
“He gets like that when he's in the zone, don't take it personally hun” You nod your head. “I know it's fine I don't have to walk on any walkways right? The ones with no railing”
“No, but we have to take the long way there. Is that okay?” You nod your head as she steers you in the right direction. “Yeah that's okay we're just hungry right now” She leads you down multiple halls and you're confident that it would probably take you years to finally learn your way around this building. You probably pass by hundreds of Spiders along the way you even stopped to pet the Cat Spider you saw. It's scary and oddly exhilarating seeing all of these Spiders. Some of them—well most of them have their mask off as well. Somehow it doesn't feel right for you to be here. You now know all of these Spiders' secret identities. You're positive you’re the only non-spider here but if Miguel thinks that it's okay then who are you to tell him otherwise? 
Finally making it to the cafeteria you’re feeling overwhelmed seeing everyone talking amongst each other. It sucks being new all over again. Now you have to force yourself into groups hoping that one of them will accept you. Lyla leads you to the cafeteria line and you rest one of your hands on your bump as the aroma of delectable foods reaches your nose.
When you reach the line you make eye contact with a spider in front of you and you give a small smile. She turns around and whispers to the Spider in front of her and then that Spider does the same thing. Soon every single Spider that was on the line leaned forward and whispered something to the Spider in front of them. What is this a game of telephone?
You nervously look over at Lyla when the Spider in front of you turns in your direction. “Are you the new worker Miguel was talking about?” 
“Oh um, I think so?”
She gives you a once over and you can feel your palms begin to sweat; they're making you nervous. What's going on? 
“Well you match his description” She turns to face the rest of the Spiders on the line before yelling out. “She's the one guys” You watch as everyone begins to take multiple steps away from the line and gestures for you to pass.
“Lyla, what the heck is going on?”
“That grumpy man over there made sure to let everyone know that if you ever get online for food they have to let you go to the front of the line.”
“What that's absurd Lyla I can't-”
“He's going to get upset if he realizes that we kept you in the back. Go on, go eat.” She gestures to you to go to the front of the line and the other Spiders do the same. You lean over to whisper to Lyla but she just shakes her head no. “It's best if we listen to him and come on you get the best picks plus there's no need to wait”
“Lyla we can't just cut in line because I'm pregnant these people are saving lives and I'm just….here I can't-” She cuts you off. “You can and you will come on let's go the longer we stand here the longer we're wasting their time hun” She taps her watch and looks at you expectedly. Stealing a glance at the crowd you hesitantly take a step forward.
The Spider that was in front of you smiled at you. “It's okay you can go we rather not get on his bad side anyways” You give her a nod before hesitantly walking past the rest of the Spiders till you reach the front of the line. The amount of options that they have to eat is insane. You grab a tray and place your ice cream on it before getting a slice of pizza, a burger and a little bit of salad.
Satisfied with your selection you tell Lyla to lead you back to your basement so you can eat lunch instead she begins to lead you to the table of the Spiders you saw earlier in Miguel's office. “Lyla no what if they don't like me?” 
“Trust me they'll like you”
“Lyla no-” 
“Off you go sweetie I'll send a certain someone to come and get you when you're finished” She winks at you and you watch as she fades away. You feel your face slowly heating up in the process. This can't be happening. Slowly turning your attention to the Spiders you saw earlier you nervously put down your tray as you look at them. 
“Hey Jessica, is this seat taken?” 
“Of course not girl come and sit down and please call me Jess.” You give her a smile before sitting down. You wave at the little girl who you remember goes by the name Mayday that you were holding earlier. Honestly, she looks like a baby she has to be no more than one. You decide to tackle the burger first by cutting it into 4 even pieces before picking one up. Silence fills the air as everyone eats their food. Is it a little awkward? Yes. Do you know how to fix it? No.
A few more minutes pass by before Jess decides to break the silence. “So how did you and Miguel meet?”
You wipe your mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Well I was trying to catch the sunrise after work so I went up to the roof and surprisingly he was there”
“Really?” The girl with the blonde hair looks at you while eating a slice of pizza.
“Yeah and I even patched him up a few times”
“Huh?” Everyone at the table turns to look at you.
You nervously tuck a curl behind your ears. “What did I say something wrong?”
“Uh Miguel has super healing depending on the size of the cut it may take it a little longer to heal but he doesn't need to get patched up at all” You stare at Peter and then the rest of the Spiders. This is completely new to you. Never in a million years would you have thought Miguel has super healing…?
If he does then why did he allow you to clean his wounds and even give him stitches when he knew he didn't need it? You'll have to ask him about it later. You shrug your shoulders and continue eating your burger. 
“Okay, so what job did you have before coming here?”
You let out a deep sigh as you take a sip of water. “I worked at a bar” 
“Oh….and did Miguel come to your bar every night?” You steal a glance at Jess giving her a confusing look.
“No, he never came to my job. It would be really weird if he did since he's working and all” Finally finishing your burger you go to pick up your slice of pizza.
Peter then chimes in as he feeds Mayday some of his food. “So did anyone else you know like uh go to your job?”
“Uh apart from my neighbor no” 
“Do you happen to know your neighbor's name?” You stare at Jess and Peter, your eyes darting between the two of them. You now suddenly feel like you're being interrogated. Jess probably realized the look on your face and she began to wave her hands in dismissal.
“Sorry ignore us, it's just that Miguel quite literally doesn't talk to anyone outside of work. We truly don't think he has any friends so having you here and you're not a Spider person is especially weird…on his part” You slowly nod your head.
“Yeah it's a little weird isn't it?” Everyone at the table nods before Jess speaks up again. “But we love having you here it's nice to see a fresh new face, and speaking of fresh new faces I'm a part of a Prenatal yoga class at a gym. It's a little far from here but maybe you'd like to come. It's at 6.” A beat passes before she adds on wiping her hands with a napkin. “Maybe you and your partner can-”
You immediately shake your head no. “No it's just me and her but I'll see if I can make it. I would love to join” She nods her head as you push your tray aside with your untouched salad. Grabbing your ice cream with pickles the minute you open it everyone gags except Jess.
“Sorry I can't do this, I'm out. You made me laugh so surprisingly it was nice meeting you” The boy with the leather jacket gets up and salutes as he walks away with the blonde girl following close behind.
“I'm Gwen by the way but it was nice meeting you” She waves goodbye before turning back around. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Mayday reaching for your ice cream. You smile at her and then steal a glance at her dad.
“Can she…?” He nods and hands you a spoon to feed her. Pushing aside the pickles with your own spoon you give her a small spoon full of ice cream. Once you feed it to her she tilts her head at taste and this causes you to laugh. You turn to look at Peter.
“Has she ever had Mint Chocolate before?”
“Nope, the most she has is Neapolitan” You watch as she gets up and slowly gets on the table sitting directly in front of you and your ice cream. She starts clapping her hands excitedly and kicking her legs as she watches you getting ready to feed her another spoonful of ice cream. She's adorable and somehow her bright red hair makes her even cuter.
You pick up your own spoon and feed yourself some ice cream with a little piece of the pickles. This goes on for about 2 minutes before you decide that you both shouldn't eat more than half of the carton of ice cream. “All done” As soon as you begin to close the ice cream she begins to cry. 
“Mayday don't do that you know your mom would kill me if she knew I gave you ice cream before dinner” You begin to get up from the table and she begins to reach for you. You look at Peter for permission and he nods his head.
“She probably thinks you’re going to give her more ice cream” You laugh to yourself before you gently pick her up. “If your daddy says yes I can give you more ice cream tomorrow” You smile when she tries to say daddy and say “Da-da” instead. You get lost staring at her as she begins to play with your curls not noticing Peter getting up from the table. She pulls on one that's hanging in your ponytail and laughs as it springs up when she lets go. It's crazy kids will find the simplest things to laugh at.
“Miguel, when are you ever going to come and eat lunch with us?”
“Uh, earth to Miguel?” You finally look over at the sound of Peter's voice only to find Miguel looking straight at you and Mayday. Oh, when did he get here?
You open your mouth to say something when you remember how he yelled at you earlier. Walking up to Peter you hand him back his daughter before walking back to get your tub of ice cream and tray. You wave goodbye to Peter and Mayday before turning to Jess.
“I'll see you at 6?” 
“Yeah, I'll see you then” You smile at her before pushing past Miguel and heading in the direction that you think you came in.
“Lyla, are you there?” You watch as she fades in next to you. “Yeah, hun what's up?” 
“Can you lead me back to his office? I don't remember how to get there” You watch as she glances behind you presumably at Miguel before nodding her head. You begin to follow her down the long way back to his office when you hear him calling out to you.
“That's the wrong way”
“It's not I can't walk that way”
“And why is that?”
You fold your hands over your chest as you stop to look at him. “There are no railings on the walkways….I can't walk on it”
“You're not going to fall, come on I have stuff to do” You roll your eyes, turning back around to follow Lyla.
“If you're so busy you could've stayed I have Lyla remember” You stop when he manages to get in front of you. 
“What's your problem?”
You give him an incredulous look. “What's my problem? You yelled at me earlier, Spidey, why did you do that? I-I just thought you said you were walking me to the cafeteria so that's why I came and asked but you yelled at me for no reason” When you feel your bottom lip trembling you know it's a wrap. Here comes the tears. You swear it's because of your pregnancy hormones you definitely wouldn't have cried otherwise. You turn your head to wipe away your tears. Dammit, you should've brought a spoon with you so you could eat the rest of your ice cream.
“I didn't yell”
“You did” You step around him so you can continue to follow Lyla when you feel a hand on your forearm. “What?” He says nothing as he hands you a spoon. 
You furrow your eyebrows as you look at him wiping away your tears with the back of your palm. “Why are you giving me a spoon?”
He tilts his head at you. “You just asked for one…” You did what…?
“When did I—I could've sworn I said it in my head” You sigh mumbling under your breath. “Maybe my ponytail is too tight or maybe it's too hot” You take the spoon from him and begin to eat the rest of your ice cream. It's too bad you ate all your pickles. You turn back around and follow Lyla the rest of the way.
•°~°•
When it's 4 o'clock you finally decide to leave. Miguel didn't give you a set time and you came early today but he ended up forgetting so it makes sense that you get to leave early. Plus you want to make it on time for the yoga class with Jess. Taking the elevator back up you are greeted with Miguel standing a few in front of the elevator in the same disguise that he wore when he was at the supermarket.
“What are you….”
“I'm taking you home let's go”
“Miguel wait what-” You sigh as you have no choice but to follow him. You have to walk fast in order to keep up with him. While following him you realize he isn't taking the path with the walkways he's taking the longer way to the lobby.
Finally reaching your car you don't protest as he gets into the driver's seat. Before he drives off he hands you his watch and you stare at him in confusion.
“To talk to Lyla”
“Oh...no it's okay she can rest,” You think for a second before speaking again. “It would be nice to have someone to talk to while I'm down there but I don't think she could hear me. Can she not reach down there?”
“No, you need a watch” Oh well your luck of not having to sit in utter silence for hours went down the drain. You nod your head before looking out the window and for the next 5 minutes, you guys sit in silence. It isn’t until the car stops at a red light that you feel something poking your arm. Looking down you realize it’s the stem of a rose. He pokes you with the rose again and you tilt your head as you stare at him.
“Take it please my pride is crumbling” A smile manages to creep on your face as you take the rose from him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings nor did I mean to yell at you” You nod just as you see Lyla peeking out from his shoulder.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m—I’m joder, ¿cómo es esto difícil?”
(Fuck how is this hard= Joder, cómo es esto difícil)
“Miguel is every-”
“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to yell at you”
“Dammit do it again I forgot to press record” Miguel turns to look at Lyla before immediately turning her off on his watch.
You place a hand over your mouth to cover your laugh as you rest a hand on your stomach. A honk from the car behind causes him to resume driving. He scratches the back of his neck before resting it on his thigh. “Ignore her I didn’t set anything up for her to record she’s just nosy” Waving your hand in dismissal you turn to look at him.
“It’s fine I get it, apology accepted but you know what would’ve made this apology even better-”
He shakes his head. “You and I both know you don’t need any more mint chocolate ice cream” You fold your hands across your chest. “Whatever Miguel”
When you reach your apartment building he holds your door open as he helps you get out of the car. You walk up the stairs in silence and when you finally reach your door you turn around to face him. Just when you think he’s going to leave he leans back against the wall next to your door and folds his arms across his chest as he looks in your direction. You really wish he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses right now. 
“What’s happening at 6?”
You steal a glance at your phone before placing your hands around your stomach with a big smile on your face. “Jess invited us to a prenatal yoga class, which I’m going to be late for if I don’t hurry” You begin to fumble with your keys as you try to open your door. “Oh and I have class on Wednesday at 2 so I can still come in to work but I’ll have to-”
“Just take the day off”
“Oh come on I can still work-”
“I said take it off” Your movements come to a stop as you slowly turn to face him. “Oh you're very forward” This may be childish but you begin to pull down the straps of your dress to get a reaction out of him but he does nothing….No change of movements, not a twitch, nothing. Feeling your face heat up with embarrassment you fix yourself before turning your attention back to the door. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see him rising to his full height and lord it gets you Every. Single. Time. There should be no reason for a man to be that tall if he doesn't even play basketball. He puts his hand over your hand that is holding on to the doorknob and together he twists and pushes the door open.
He leans forward whispering in your ear. “Don't start anything you can't finish” When he leans back you stare at him with wide eyes. “I-It was meant to be a joke and you were supposed to be all panicky and be like “oh no don't take it off” but then you didn't do that so now….” Your voice trails off when the embarrassment becomes too much to bear. 
You try to save the situation by pinning it on your baby. “It's the baby…you know all of the hormones I think it's getting to my head and what not”
“Mmhm…you should go inside” You nod as you push open your door. “Yeah I probably should uh have a good night” You hide behind your door as you begin to close it but then stop halfway. “I mean good day because you know since the sun is still out”
“Uh-huh”
“Okay….goodbye now” You immediately slam the door, embarrassed to even look at him. Running your hands over your face as you lean against it. “Why did I do that my god” You begin to walk away from the door chanting in your head that “It's just the hormones” as you kick off your shoes.
However, you stop midway when you remember you had something to ask him. Quickly walking back to the door you throw it open without thinking only to find him still standing there. “Miguel—Oh why are you still…”
“You didn't lock the door” Oh okay yeah that totally makes sense.
You jut your head in the direction of your neighbor's door. “Um, I know you said you'll let him know that I'm looking for him but I haven't seen him all weekend and I have no way of getting in contact with him. I just really wanted to thank him and give him his gift”
“He's a busy man so I haven't seen him myself but he uh—” He clears his throat and fixes his face mask. “He sometimes goes to the gym on Mondays you might you know see him if-”
“But I don't know what gym he goes to”
“Oh right well I don't know…it's getting late I have to head back to work maybe you'll see him today”
“But how-”
“It's almost six” Dammit you're going to be late. “Okay okay, I'll see you tomorrow bye” You quickly turn around to head back inside. You really hope you can see him before you leave.
•°~°•
Miguel waits until you lock your door before pretending to walk away. “Lyla scan to make sure she's away from the door” He waits for Lyla to finish her scan before he quickly unlocks his door and heads inside. Why would he tell you that you would see him today when he doesn't even know what gym you're going to be going to? And most of all why did he lie? He doesn't go to the gym on Mondays he only goes to the gym back at Spider Society. He doesn’t like going to the public gyms he never has. Quickly changing his clothes he opts for a grey sweatsuit and a white wife beater. Making sure there are no traces of Spiderman left on him he stretches and waits a few minutes before hauling his new gym bag over his shoulder and stepping out the door. Hopefully, he ends up at the same gym as you.
………
Well okay no not hopefully just because and only because you've been asking for him it’s not like he wants to see you because he doesn’t. That will make no sense since he literally just saw you. Right? It would be incredibly stupid if he wanted to see you again and not as Spiderman as himself Miguel. Right? This is stupid everything is stupid he doesn’t even know why he’s actually going to the gym he hasn’t been to the gym in weeks. Quickly spraying some cologne on himself he walks out and begins to lock it when he sees a man dressed in a suit and tie walking up the stairs and heading straight for your door. The minute he hears the man twisting the doorknob repeatedly he almost loses it. What the fuck is going on?
“Can I help you with something?”
“Yeah, do you know if anyone lives here?”
“No, it's vacant, why?”
“I'm looking for my wife, that's why. She's pregnant fucked her in January so she should be huge by now it's July” It takes Miguel every fiber in his being to not lash out and bash this man's head into a wall. Not only is he finally face to face with the man who dares put his hands on you for God knows how long but here he is talking about you with not one ounce of respect. How in the world were you ever with this guy?
Miguel has to close his fist to prevent himself from beating this man to death. “Well, there's no pregnant woman on this floor or living in this apartment complex for that matter. So you got the wrong place”
He watches as the man harshly loosens his tie before slamming his fist into the wall right by your door. He hopes and prays that you won't walk out at all lord knows what would happen if you did.
He watches as the man pulls out his phone and practically yells into it as he descends down the stairs. “You gave me the wrong fucking tip my wife's not here find her before your kids won't have any food on the table tonight” The man turns around and tosses a card at Miguel that lands right in front of him.
“If you see her call me I want her back” As much as he doesn't want to he waits till your ass of a partner disappears from his sight so he can pick up his business card. Like hell, he'll ever tell that man a damn thing. He has to count to 10 before he can shove the card in his gym bag and of course, with just his luck you open your door. Your hair is pulled back into a low ponytail instead of a high one you no longer have red lipstick on your lips are now shiny and you're wearing a fitted black jumpsuit and a very very cropped sweater. It shouldn't even be called a sweater with how little it's covering.
“Oh my gosh, neighbor I've missed you where have you been? You know what hold that thought, don't move. I have something for you please stay” When you close the door he is baffled that a woman like you could be associated, let alone married to a man like that. You're just so—so you it makes no sense. 
He quickly whispers to Lyla to scan to make sure that that man isn't anywhere near here when you walk out. He places an earbud in his ear so he can talk to Lyla discreetly. “Let me know how far away he is. I need to know his movements. She can't see him”
He stops talking the minute he hears your footsteps walking to your door. You have a small black bag in your hand with red tissue paper sticking out.
“I have a lot of things to say to you but I can't because I have somewhere to be and if I don't leave now I'm going to be late and I really don't want to be”
“Okay”
“You wanna walk and talk to my car?”
“You know what I do actually and make sure your door is locked, please… there are crazy people out here” He watches you lock your door. When you begin to walk down the stairs he checks to make sure by twisting the knob.
“Neighbor, you coming?” He nods and begins to follow you down the stairs. 
“Okay but don't freak out but I got the job!” He nods absentmindedly giving you a thumbs up and subtly checking in with Lyla as he holds open the lobby door for you.
“Oh I love your enthusiasm”
He doesn't miss the sarcasm laced in your voice. “I already knew he told me”
“Does he tell you everything?” He shakes his head no as he steps in line next to you making sure you're on the inside of the sidewalk. “Walk next to me I don't need you behind me”
“Well I can't exactly walk as fast as you if you noticed”
“Yeah, I know…..how is she?” He sticks out his elbow so you can hold on to him like you did in the supermarket. He expects you to latch on but you just send him a confusing look so he takes your left hand and puts it on his arm. He tries to look at you but you're avoiding eye contact with him. Hmm weird.
It does take you a second to realize who he's talking about though. “Oh, this is the first time you asked about her specifically” He watches as you begin to rub your stomach with your free hand.
“She's fine, she's growing though we had a big lunch today too. But it's so nice over there and really huge and a little scary too Lyla helps me though she's an AI that you know who created. Oh and hanging out with him is so fun he dropped us home-”
“He’s walking towards you guys about to turn the corner there’s an alleyway right next to you guys if you-” 
“Hey, are you even listening to me?”
Miguel immediately takes off his sweater and begins to put it over you.“Do you trust me?” He watches as you stare at him with wide eyes. Maybe this wasn't the right time to ask this dammit.
“20 seconds before contact” Fuck there's not enough time.
“I would if told me your last name like you said you-”
“It’s O’Hara” He says it without hesitating. Thankfully despite your bump it looks like you drowning in his sweater he zips it up and begins to walk you backwards till your back touches a nearby wall. He pulls the hoodie all the way over your face so it’s covered and before you can begin to protest he puts his index finger to your lips to shush you. “Don’t talk and don’t move”
“O’Hara what the heck-” He should’ve known you weren’t going to listen. He makes sure to conceal one side of you’re stomach with his gym bag and he takes his hand to cradle one side of your face. 
“10 seconds”
He notices the minute you hear your partner's voice. Your body goes rigid all of the spark and light drains from your face and the worst part of all he watches as the fear settles in. He doesn’t miss the feeling of you grabbing onto his forearm very tightly pulling him in closer just a smidge. He's either going to regret this and you’ll never speak to him again or he’s going to enjoy this and never speak to you again. Either way, the outcome of this is going to be bad.
“5”
“You know?”
“4”
“Yes so forgive me for what I’m about to do”
“3”
You nod. “It’s okay I trust-”
He cuts you off by slowly leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. None of you move as he sinks into the feeling. His senses override with yours. He takes note of your smell, your warmth, the way your cheek fits perfectly in his palm, and most importantly the way you taste. You taste…sweet. You taste like something to crave something that leaves a man wanting more something that leaves a man coming back for seconds. He can feel your lipgloss sticking onto his lips as he deepens the kiss your lips engaging in a dance. He begins to pull away when he gets the all-clear from Lyla. He sucks gently on your bottom lip to get every last drop of nectar that you have to offer.
Fuck this is bad really bad.
•°~°•
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I was supposed to post this on the 23rd which was my birthday(I failed) then I wanted to post it on Christmas(I also failed). So here I am on the day before New Year's Eve finally posting this chapter. I started writing again in July I posted my first story in July now here we are months later on my third story with so many of you guys supporting me. There are over 60 of you on the tag list I have 300+ followers and there's many more of you on Wattpad and on AO3. Each chapter I look forward to reading the comments, the anonymous asks etc. The love I've recieved from each and every one of you is making the little girl who always dreamed of writing "her own stories" scream with joy. The comments from those who said they love my writing, for those who said they think my writing is beautiful and for those that said they would definitely buy my books if I ever had any overfills my heart with joy and gives me the motivation to "potentially" write my own stories(in the near future). I don't want to get sappy on the internet soooo Have a Happy New Year and from the bottom of my heart thank you guys so so much this is the best birthday/Christmas present a girl can ask for......
As always thanks for reading<333
With Much Love,
Cece❤️
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littyhoney · 10 months
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Right Person,Wrong Time (part 1)
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(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)
BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!
Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader
Chapter summary: you have always been there for Miles,will your long time crush ever pay attention to you…or not?
Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst
Guys this is my first time writing this be gentle with me <3 enjoy!
“Alright so lets do this one more time, Hey! Im (Y/N) (L/N) and Im one of the well-known spiderman/spiderwoman of Brooklyn,New York.” you swing through the city using your web as some of the civilians took out their phone to take picture or video of you. You land on top of a rooftop before speaking into an invincible camera “But im not the only one,im with my close friend Miles Morales who is also a spiderman of Brooklyn,weird huh?”
comes another person swing by you as he parkour through the rooftop in his black and red spider suit “keep up (n/n)!” Miles laugh as he jumps and swings away. You let out a chuckle as you follow him “Yo Miles wait up!”.
For the last few months after the collider incident with Kingpin,you and miles get closer since both of you share the same responsibility to keep the city safe and life is not easy even after you wear the spider mask. Balancing your life as a student and as a hero is not..easy,at all. At one time you could be in class try to catch up to your academic and the next thing you make up an excuse to go to the rest room to go out and fight crimes, comes back with few bruises and scrathes. But both of you manage to pull through the day,together.
It is Sunday as you and Miles are hanging out in his room listening to music, you are sitting on his bed bopping your head to the song as you scroll through your phone while Miles is sitting at his desk with his sketchbook,drawing. Suddenly the silent breaks as Miles stop his drawing and ask “Hey..(n/n)” he turn his chair towards you.
“Hm? What is it coco head? Something on your mind?” you turn your attention to Miles,notice his sad demenor. You stand up from the bed and walk towards him put your hand on his shoulder.
“Do you..miss the other spiders? Like Peter..Peni and..Gwen” Miles speak,his voice is low as he look up at you. You sigh and nod your head “Yeah I do Miles, but they are in another dimension” you tilt your head slightly “They are out there living their lives,I wonder if Peter B ever have a child ya know” you chuckle,trying to lighten up his mood
Miles chuckle before he look down at his hands on his lap “I just…miss Gwen a lot actually” he sigh as he wipe his face with his palms slightly frustrated “Ya know it is hard I miss her and she is not even from here man”
you lean on the table beside him,hunch down slightly to look him in the eyes,with sympathy “Miles,you know the rules right,they cant be here nor we can be there, we can dissapear and so are they”
“I know that (y/n)…I know,if only I could just met Gwen one time” Miles lean back on his chair looking at the ceiling,in his head he is hopping maybe a portal would just pop out so he could go to Gwens dimension..
You look at your friend sadnes fill your heart to see your best friend seem so down,you know Miles have been missing the spiders ever since the first week they went back to their dimension and for the past time you have try your best to be there for Miles and keep him company listening to whatever problem he is facing. For the years you been friend with Miles you slowly start to develop feelings for the ball of sunshine. His creativity in his talent,he is smart in academics,his warm honey brown eyes that seem to always take your breath away and such a sweet smile..it would be a fool of you to not fall for the boy.
You lick your lips slightly before you stand up and face to the desk,trying to change the subject “what cha drawing Miles?” you pick up his black sketchbook and go through the pages. “Oh just some uh,sketches of..” Miles voice trail off not wanting to finish the sentence.
“Of..?” I trail my question as I keep flicking the pages before stopping on the page he was currently drawing on and look at the figure he drew with such great details, my breath hitch slightly before finish my own sentence “Gwen..” I look at the drawing..a pang of jealousy fill my heart before I shake my head slightly and close the book turn to look at Miles with a small smile “It looks awesome Miles,you really get her smile and suit on point”
Thanks man” Miles smile at you before you could say anything Rio voice muffle through the close door of Miles bedroom “Miles! Dinner is ready! Tell (y/n) she can join for dinner!” Miles turn towards the doors slightly “Okay mom! Be there in a sec!” Miles turn back to you before nudge his head slightly towards the door “You joinning (n/n)?” You shake your head slightly before move to get your jacket and phone “I have to go home Miles,il see you later okay?” Miles stand up from his chair making his way to you before giving you a hug “Thank you for being with me (n/n)”
You smile sadly knowing that Miles need your support more in this tough times of his.. you pat his back before making your way out of his room saying goodbye to mama Rio and walk out the street with both of your hands in your pocket…you cant help but though of how many times Miles have mention Gwen whenever you two are together…how many times he have drawn her in almost all the pages in his sketchbook, heck he didn’t even draw you even though you have been friends for so long..maybe you could try to be better…maybe be like Gwen..?
To be continued...
(AAAA IM SO NERVOUS LEMME KNOW IF YALL STILL WANT CHAPTER 2)
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I'm writing a story with 6 main characters. For me, that means 6 POVs. Obviously, this is a lot, but I've read books like the Six of Crows duology and the Blood of Olympus series that are able to pull it off and do it well. Do you know what makes that possible?
Quick Tips for Successfully Pulling Off Multi-POV
1 - Multiple main characters doesn't mean each main character needs to be a POV character. You can have main characters who aren't POV characters and main characters who are. 2 - Multiple POV isn't about characters taking random turns telling parts of the story. POV characters need to be someone who has a unique or solitary viewpoint of certain events or moments in the story, and POV chapters need to be assigned according to which character has the best viewpoint of the critical moment or event of the chapter.
3 - POV chapters do not have to be evenly or rhythmically distributed. Doing so can provide nice symmetry, but you should never sacrifice good storytelling for good symmetry. If Character B needs to have two POV chapters in a row, so be it. If Character D needs to have only three POV chapters whereas other characters average between six and ten, so be it.
4 - Change POV characters only after scene breaks, section breaks, or a new chapter begins.
5 - At the beginning of each new POV section, make sure to include something immediately to let the reader know whose POV they're jumping into. This can be a labeled section, using the character's name or another identifying feature in the first sentence or two, or illustrating something in the first chapter or two that makes it obvious which character's viewpoint the reader is in.
I hope that helps!
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Safe Keeping | 4
Part 1 2 3 4 5
"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."
Sandor Clegane x Reader | 8k+ | cw: fem!reader, DEATH of characters/animals/monsters, POV shifts, mentions/depictions of violence, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional constipation, miscommunication, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: ❗❗please proceed this chapter with caution. i killed a bunch of characters/animals (well and monsters but i think deserve lmao)!!! ALSO POV SHIFTSS!!!! originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here. also fyi i post this story on ao3 first
Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @j3nn-1
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The Hound found himself wrong about the thieving, wrong about the missing livestock. He was so wrong it nearly cost him lives, including his own.
He was so sure about himself when he went into the woods, so sure that he was going to find at least two men, at most five, luring sheep there. It was the men he was prepared for. Fuck the livestock, the farmers can get them back after he killed the fucks stealing them.
Ah, the farmers, barging into his wife's estate... into their house, into house Clegane. 
Fuck 'em, fuck the lot of them, complaining again, complaining about their sheep and their cows. He had enough of their yapping, now was the time to act.
Fuck 'em twice for being shocked when he said he'd go into the forest to kill the fucker causing all of them trouble.
The superstitious peasants warned him. The Hound heard; he even humored them by letting a few spring chickens, boy-soldiers in the making, 'aid' him as he went to the forest.
Between the young farmer's lad, Andrew, and the man-boy, Carter, who he had been training be a soldier, it was actually the Hound who was the one most frightened by that thing that stared back at them.
It looked as though it was twice his damn size. It was darker than tar, and stinkier than shit. It made an unholy sound before attacking them.
He doesn't remember what happened after that in all honesty. His instincts kicked in and he can't recall what he had done. All he knew was, in the end, the two boys were cheering and dragging a black corpse all the way back out of the woods.
The villagers looked at him. They walked towards him and shouted. It was not an unfamiliar greeting-- being pursued by villagers, and yet, it shakes him; it takes him off-guard. They come upon him and begin to weep at his feet. They thank him. They thank them as they hug each other. The thank him as they wave at him. They thank him as they touch his armor like a devout would touch an idol.
The Hound is perturbed.
"Thank you, milord! You killed the beast!"
"You saved our sheep!"
"You saved our families!"
"You saved our lives!"
The Hound was never one to back down, but Sandor found himself taking steps back when a group of children ran up to him and began to ask him how he killed it. Their little hands and big eyes demanded answers from him. His insides rise up to his mouth.
The children begin to talk about how they can go to the woods now.
"Oi!" Carter calls to the ones in front the Sandor, "you do know there's more than one woodland monsters, aye?!"
"But now milord Cligay killed one! He'll teach us how to kill the o'vers."
"It's Clegane. Lord Clegane! And even then, you buggers can't just play in the forest. The brown bears still live here."
"I haven't seen a brown bear!" a little girl cries out. She looks to the Hound, walking up to him, grabbing his hand, "there aren't any brown bears in the woods, right, milord?"
Sandor looks at the small thing. His hand burns at her touch. Her hand was not even hot, not even big enough to grasp half his palm and yet he feels lightheaded. He feels like he's going to pass out.
The Hound finds their sentiment to be all too much at one point. He grumbles he's going home; he's got much work to do. The villagers thank him as he leaves.
When he gets home, just as he gets near the gate, he beholds Lady Clegane, the people's champion, his poor bride. She is outside, speaking to some peasants; it was all she did as of late.
A breeze blows and her dress dances with the wind. Her hair follows as well, and along goes the air from his lungs.
She is the sun. He is a mountain trying to reach her.
Sandor, who hadn't realized that he stopped in his place to gawk, is shaken out of his trance when the stable boy opened the gates for him. The small child named Polly, about as old as his wife when she fled this place, nods at him and motions, "pardon, milord," he says nervously, "I didn't know you were waiting for me to open the gates."
The Hound looks at the boy as he walks in, "I wasn't," he gruffs, eyeing him as he passed, "don't worry about it, laddie."
Lord Clegane looks away from the stable boy when he hears the shrill cry of a babe. He spots the maester walking over to his wife with a wailing child in his arms.
He thinks about the letter he had to write to the Citadel, requesting a maester come to Brown Wood.
Lady Clegane thinks her husband's initiative for it stems from his sense of duty as a Lord, but she'll never know he did it for her, for her to know if she really did have a late blood cycle, or if she lost a baby. Maester Yannick told him it was, regretfully, the latter.
The Hound waited for his lady wife to tell him about it, to ask him to hold a mourning ceremony for the unborn child. She never did.
Sandor watches Lady Clegane willingly embraces the woman who thanked her up and down, over and under, for saving her baby. She tells the weeping woman that it was not her work but maester Yannick that saved the babe. Maester Yannick says it was not his work but the gods.
Sandor tastes something putrid in his mouth when his wife coos at the child, who immediately calmed when the maester reunited the small thing to mama. His insides tingle at the sound of his lady's laugh.
He curses under his breath when she turns to him. He realizes then he had stopped in his tracks again.
The Hound begins his march.
Lady Clegane greets him, but he is not strong enough to reply with a greeting himself. He doesn't know why he stops to tell her that he killed a woodland monsters though. She looked very shocked after hearing that.
He wonders if she was disappointed. He wonders if she wanted him dead.
She touches him and questions if he was injured. Sandor flinches and steps back. She recoils her hand quickly and wipes it on her skirt-- disgusted.
The Hound says she shouldn't worry her pretty squirrel head, then walks away.
His footsteps are heavy as he heads to his office. He didn't want to go through the fucking endless piles of paperwork, but the apprentice he had couldn't grasp basic mathematics quite yet, so, there he went, to go through paperwork in a musty office.
He wonders if doing this shit made a difference to her, or if she'd always see him for what he was: a groom, forced upon her as a joke from a stupid blonde boy; a beast with ill features and temper; a Hound.
He is almost tempted to look over his shoulder at the loud sound of baby's laughter. He doesn't, cause he wouldn't see anything but a wall of he did anyway.
He wonders when she'd ask him again, when she'd ask for a child from him.
He promises he'd be gentler this time, gentler.
He doesn't mean to be so rabid with her.
She just had such an ablaze spirit, she was so fierce, and so vivid that he found himself wanting to devour her whole-- a true predator.
He wishes he could be more than that. He could be more than that to her, but it's so hard to fill in to be someone you're not. The Hound was not a proper lord, he was not that pretty boy Alistair. He can only do so much.
Sandor would do much and more for her than that scrawny, faerie pretty-boy ever could.
She might not like it, but he'll do his best to give her what she wants, to give her a family in stead of the one she lost. She will never love him, but he knows she'll love all the children he could give her, and that was more than enough, more than he could ever hope for or deserve. 
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I carefully walk up to the office, clutching my hands together as I prepare myself to knock on the door.
I clear my throat and retell myself what I mean to tell my husband. My palms begin to gush like geyser. I dread the fight I know will be had because of this topic.
I let out a soft gasp when someone calls me from behind.
It was the stable boy, Polly. He had run up to bow and greet me good morning. I smile at him and reach out to him. I brush his hair back, "good morrow, Polly, dear."
The boy grins and bows again, "I'll be learning how to ride a horse soon, milady!"
I link my hands together as I chuckle, "my! Will you now? How awfully courageous of you."
The boy pushes his shoulders back, "it's no'ffin, milady. Just what a man ought to do. I would go to war for you, milady, I would!"
"My boy," shake my head, "I pray you never need to do such a thing. I hope you enjoy riding though. I find that I do not."
"Do you find riding scary? I wouldn't! I'll let you ride with me once I know how, promise," the boy nods as he places a hand on his chest.
"You are very kind," I smile, "I thank you for it, Polly."
The boy puffs his chest out and bows, "I'll be goin' then, milady!"
I chuckle as I watch Polly run off as quick as a rabbit.
My soul nearly leaves me when I turn around and see the Hound looming over me.
I gasp and step back. He reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He keeps me upright and leans down, "you better stop calling the boy dear." He releases me and begins to walk off, "he's already in love with you as is."
I blink rapidly at his words. I turn to him and watch him march away before scurrying after, "he's a child."
"Aye," says Sandor, "all the children adore you."
My stomach curdles at his words; I am unsure why. I rub my hands together, not sure what to make of myself, or what to reply.
"What were you doing outside my office?" he asks.
I run up in front of him and grab his arm, "there is something I needed to discuss with you."
Sandor stops. He looks at my hand on his arm, "can't it wait?"
I pull my hand away and shake my head, "I understand that you are very busy, my lord, but I-"
"Fine," he mutters, "I'll lay with you tonight."
My eyes widen and I topple back at his words, "what?"
The Hound steps forward, keeping me upright again, "that's why you're here, aren't you?" He releases me, "your bloods have waned."
I feel my face burn. I gulp and force a smile, "I-" I chuckle nervously and straighten up, "y-yes. My bloods have waned."
Sandor watches me closely.
I rub my neck and blink rapidly, "I thank you for your thoughtfulness," I dig my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I turn from my feet then to Sandor, "but that is not what I wished to speak about."
His face falls. It's not anything noticeable but I have become quite good at it, reading his face. He purses his lips then says, "be done with it then, I've got work to do, pretty squirrel."
I feel my face burn even more at his horrible nickname.
A group of women had been complimenting my dress when the Hound passed. I knew they did not know he would react that way, but it did not help the embarrassment I felt when the women asked my husband if he thought my dress suited me and he replied 'pretty for a squirrel'.
"I wanted to tell you that I... I still very much wish to be the one to speak to the people about their concerns," I am unable to look at him when I say this, "it is not because I think you are unfit for the task, my lord, but I have seen the way you act around them."
"Like a dog?"
I knit my brows deeply and look to him, "Daisy is a dog. And I love her very much."
"That makes one of us."
We stare at each other for a long, blistering moment. My throat constricts at his words, "... Sandor."
His face contorts. He scoffs and averts his gaze, "don't say my name like that."
My heart begins to race, it twists and clenches. I step forward and reach out to him, "I see how you try to listen, how you try to help, but it scares you-"
I gasp when he rips his arm away before I can even touch him. He grabs me instead though, ripping me close as he leans down, "I'm not scared of peasants."
My eyes water. It's not even because his grip hurt, but because it was as painfully clear as it could get that this man did not like me at all, no matter what I did.
The Hound mutters softly, "do what you wish," he releases my arm, "you want to do my work so badly then? Fine. I didn't want ya to do anything you're not meant to, but have it your way."
I scratch my eyes before my tears could fall. I try to look at him as I speak, but the tears threaten to fall when I do. Instead, I fix my eyes on the floor, "I do not do this to upset you, Hound. I do this because I mean to help you. I swear it."
He is deeply disturbed by the softness in which these words are spoken. Hearing himself be called Hound was unreasonably heart piercing.
"I do not like it when you are angry," I whisper, "it would have been fine if it was only directed at me, but you spur everyone around you."
I flinch when he calls my name.
I shake my head, "if it pleases you, lord, I will do as you said the other day. I will no longer speak to you. I will not bother you. I will not stand in your way." I step back and pick at my fingernails.
Sandor holds back from stepping forward.
"Maester Yannick has been giving me herbs to help with conception, but he said that I should be in good spirits when... consummating... I do not think we should do anything tonight--" I look to him through my wet lashes, "unless you want to--"
"No, I do not," he says coldly.
I gulp. Tears begin to stream down my face. My lips quiver. I shudder. Of course he doesn't want me.
I curtsy and walk off. I break into a sprint after a few steps, as I am no longer able to hold in my sobs.
Sandor watches this. He furrows his brows, unnerved by the interaction, gutted by the fact it ended in tears yet again. He replays the conversation. Was his touch truly that hard? He looks at his hand. He curses loudly and storms off to fuck all.
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Sandor wakes before the sky does. He opens his heavy lids and sighs. He turns to his right on instinct; he watches his wife stretch out her arms in the expanse of nothingness between them. He likes to think that she is reaching out to him. He likes to think that if he reaches back, it'll make everything fine between them.
But then again, it had never been fine between them in the first place.
He makes sure not to touch or move her. Last time he did, she woke up. She truly was a light sleeper.
He slowly gets up. He quickly gets dressed. The moment he gets out of the room, he heads to his office.
He's finished his work by the time he hears a dog barking. He looks to the window, the sun looks back at him. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the sill, pushing the curtains open. He sees her, Lady Clegane, cuddling the mutt she named Daisy. Fucking Daisy. Polly, the stable boy was waving a stick, but the bitch could not care less about it, too preoccupied by her master.
He watches Daisy lick her neck. He watches how she scolds the dog for it but giggles anyway. Sandor sniffles. His mind wanders to the one time he had his face pressed on her neck like that. Fucking dog.
He watches the pair go inside. The Hound heads to the dining room promptly after.
He mutters to himself, trying to decide how to start, "I don't meant to make you cry-- I keep making you cry-- Fuck-- .... I know you don't like me," he stops in his tracks before he can get to his destination. He mutters to himself some more.
Fuck it.
He hears the telltale patter of Daisy's paws. It makes his fingers tingle.
When he gets to the dining room, he furrows his brows at the emptiness.
Lucy gasps at the sight of him. She topples back then regains her composure. She puts the plate of food she was holding down on the table with a bang. She looks at him and curtsies, "your food, milord."
"Where is she?"
Lucy's glare darkens, "she is dining with the servants."
He chuckles drily. He feels disappointment. He feels hurt. He immediately plays it off, "pretty squirrel's finally had enough of me."
"WILL YOU STOP CALLING 'ER THAT!" Lucy bursts, taking the Hound off-guard.
They both stare at each other, as if equally as shocked by the outburst.
Lucy fumes. Sandor freezes. The former decides she's already spoken, so she might as well continue, "she is a lady! You took her for this," she motions vaguely. "You need her," she speaks firmly, "just as much as she needs you."
The Hound scoffs. His insides burn and curdle at the idea of the little girl needing a beast to keep her safe. He snaps, "well, go ahead and tell her I will gladly be her hound and breed her little monsters as thanks for her nice, warm castle!"
Lucy makes no attempt to hide the revulsion she feels at the sound of the hound's words.
"You know what," he snarls, "why don't I breed her right now as a thank you?"
Lucy's face drops. She runs up to the Hound when he begins to storm off. She crumples like paper when he shoves her away. He doesn't do it hard enough that she shoots off to the table, but it's enough for her to get the message: he was deadly strong.
Lucy does her best to stop him. She cries and begs and screams. She digs her heels into floor and yanks him back but it doesn't do much, it doesn't do anything.
The Hound only stops when he finally sees her.
Lady Clegane is laughing with the servants as they watch Daisy roll on her belly for food. She feeds the dog just as Lucy runs up in front of him, severely distraught and tear stained. Lucy pushes her hands on his chest and begs him to punish her instead.
The Hound is sickened when Daisy runs up to him and whines. He recoils his hand when the bitch licks it.
"Lucy?"
Sandor flinches at the sound of his wife's voice and turns the other way.
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I was in the middle of playing fetch with Daisy when she caught wind of something and ran off to the gate. Usually, this meant Sandor was home. Lo and behold, this moment was not any different.
I turn away immediately when we lock gazes.
The Hound had a large cut of meat on his shoulder. He grunts as Daisy barks and runs up to him, "fuck off, bitch."
He does his best to avoid the dog, nudging her away firmly with his leg as he walks up to a wagon and plops the hind of a cow on there. He hisses at Daisy when she gets on her two back legs and rests one good leg and bad one on his hips.
"Daisy!" I call.
She ignores me.
Sandor looks over his shoulder, "your mam's calling you, dog. Go on!"
Daisy clearly doesn't understand, or doesn't care, and barks at Sandor when he shoves her away. 
"Daisy!" I call and jog up to her when she follows Sandor out of the estate. I run up to the gate and watch as she is chased by the Hound. She runs as fast as her three paws will allow, clearly enjoying what she thought to be a game.
"Come here, you stupid bitch!" the Hound screams.
I turn to one of the men near me. I call Arron over and tell him to tell the Hound not to chase after her. He does just that, "milord! She will stop running if you stop chasing!"
I make a face as Lord Clegane curses and does his final attempt at catching the dog.
"Shall I bait Daisy with some meat, milady?" Arron asks.
I am about to respond but then there is a loud shriek from afar. It makes my blood go still.
The Hound immediately stops, straightens up, and looks at the distance.
I turn to Arron in a panic and tell him to get bait for Daisy. He quickly does that and calls for the dog to come back.
A bunch of peasants run and scream towards the estate; they scream milord.
Sandor goes to them.
When he reaches the panicked townspeople, he tells them all to shut the fuck up and explain what's happening. The old one clamours out that her daughter's been taken, says she was herding the cows then she was suddenly screaming, and he tried to reach her but it was too late. He says his son went to the woods to try and save her sister.
The Hound nods. He easily decides to go into the woods. The man's other son to leads the way.
In truth, the boy didn't have to go with him, he could just head to where the animals were fleeing, but he allowed it because he recognized the boy to be one of the ones in training. He has no idea what his name was though.
He was glad to hear the screams when he did, at least the ones that sounded human.
The Hound sees a lad and a lass running up to him, "RUN WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED!"
The boy by his side screams back, "the Hound is here! He's going to kill it!"
Well, Sandor was only meant to save the girl, and now that the girl was about to run past him, he didn't have to do anything, really. For some reason, he felt compelled to press on. Maybe it was the lack of his sense of self-preservation as of late, or no, don't call it that; it was his need for a distraction, his need prove something.
He sees it, the monster and its fresh kill. It must have been one of the girl's cows, or at least what was left of it. Gods, the abomination was a messy eater. He was glad, at least, it seemed to be starved and solely focused on eating.
His boots stomp into a puddle of blood when he charges at the thing and cuts its head off. That's was quick... and simple...
He's shocked when he hears a hellish scream behind him and gets knocked into a tree.
The Hound is dazed. He hears the battle cry of two voices. He watches the brothers do their best to stab at the thing that towers and claws at them. He promptly gets on his feet and charges at the disgusting fuck, managing to chop off its arm before it chops off the boy's head.
Just as he thinks he's about to get the upper hand, another vile beast pops up from the shadows. He fixes his footing and slashes his sword for his life.
One of the boys get injured. The boy's scream attract the monsters towards him, allowing the Hound to stab through one of them when it's attention is averted.
By the time one of the two vile cretins drop to the ground, the two boys are running for their lives with one monster on their tail. The Hound is forced to chase after them and curses the boys for running. He's not as quick as he was before.
He screams and grabs a rock, chucking it at the slimy tar creature. He throws and shouts some more until the monster is turned back and running towards him.
He slashes the stupid fuck with his sword when its close enough. It still picks a fight though.
He's losing his breath.
The next thing he knows, there's another monster screaming from behind him. The Hound prepares for the one behind him, but it doesn't reach him because its busy ripping something off it with a growl. It chucks something to the side. There is a separate whine that hisses with the wind.
The Hound finally kills the first monster that attacked him. It doesn't take much for him to kill the other as its belly was already gushing with viscous blood.
Once he's the only thing alive and standing, catches his breath and curses. He looks upon the fallen black creatures before him and reckons he ought to get out there before more come out.
But then he hears a rustle to his side. He immediately goes on the defensive and readies for another fight.
He follows the sound of heavy breathing.
His face drops when he hears the way the dog whines when he's spotted.
The Hound sheathes his sword and drops to his knees. He looks at Daisy, her one front paw bent, the other one not. Her hind legs were twisted unnaturally, her side was clawed. She was soaking in red, both hers and otherwise. She was panting and quickly losing blood.
Sandor reaches out to her. Her eyes were wide and teary. She leans into Sandor's touch and licks her nose in a panic.
He begins to feel a rage burn in him. He begins to feel loathe. He whisper-yells, "you stupid dog. You should have stayed home."
Daisy's breath quickens. He realizes see that she is trying not to whine. Gods, the pain she must be in.
He is about to tell her she was stupid for doing that, he is about to tell her she didn't need her help, he is about to tell her she was so fearless for no reason, but then Daisy whines. It was the most horrible thing he's ever heard.
Sandor huffs like he had been stabbed. He grips his hilt tightly, "thank you for saving me, Daisy."
Sandor screws his eyes shut and decides on what he has to do.
He draws his sword. Daisy does not flinch when he presses the sword onto her neck. He thinks about the day they'd first met. 
Fearless.
He strokes her face with his hand once. He screws his eyes shut when he feels her shiver. 
So afraid.
"You're a good dog."
His next stroke pulls Daisy's final breath.
The Hound stands. He looks upon his dog.
He screams.
He screams.
He screams, hell-bent on summoning more monsters. He kills three more stupid fuck, particularly enjoying how he butchered killing a young one.
He takes Daisy's body after. She is rigid against his chest when he reaches the village. He barks out an order to the villagers: burn those fucking monsters he killed. They were more than happy to oblige.
He passes the family he had helped. They are about to come up to thank him but they don't when they see what was in his arms.
He is swarmed with dread with what he is faced with when he reaches the estate. It was very clearly as search party for Daisy.
"SANDOR!" I cry out when I spot him from the distance. "DID YOU SEE DAISY WHEN-" I stop myself when I realize he is covered in blood. Suddenly, I feel awful for not asking him if he was injured before anything else.
His form becomes clearer as I jog up to him and call, "ARE YOU AL-"
I stop in my tracks when I see him adjust something in his arms. I knit my brows and continue walking towards him. Was it a head of a monster? Why was it brownish and not black?
The Hound gives me a solemn look as he inches closer. I furrow my brows at his expression.
It takes a second then suddenly, it clicks.
I let out a horrified cry.
The Hound buries Daisy in the garden himself. Everyone in Brown Wood watches. I force a glance at my poor dog, even though I wanted to do nothing but turn away. Her injuries chill me to the bone. Lucy stands beside me, clutching my arm as she weeps, but does not look at Daisy once.
Maester Yannick speaks some words for her, as per my request, before Sandor covers the grave.
Once it was done, maester Yannick comes to me and says he will plant daisies at her grave come morrow. I cannot find solace, I cannot find myself to care.
"Did you have to slit her throat?!" I demand lowly, voice aching and angry. I eye the Hound with hot contempt and cynicism, "was there REALLY no saving her?!"
"My lady," the maester holds me back, "I saw her body. Lord Clegane showed her mercy."
"Did you enjoy executing your mercy?!" I wail, ripping my arms away from Lucy and Yannick. My gaze does not trail to them at all, as I am intent on getting answers from my dog's executioner.
The Hound's face is blank, it enrages me.
I snarl through tears, "gods, I hope you did! I hope you savored finally being free of your bitch!"
Lucy calls after me as when I storm away. She means to run after me but shoots a glare at the Hound before doing so. She is momentarily stunned when he sees how distraught he looks at the moment. 
Sandor marches out of the estate.
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I jolt awake when I hear the front door opening. I wipe my face and quickly stand from the chair in the middle of the living space. The fireplace near me had already burned out.
After the sound of locks disappear in the darkness, I take the unlit candle on the table beside me and walk up to the burning candelabra to light it.
I hear heavy footsteps draw closer.
Boots skid, "fuck."
I look up after lighting my candle. The Hound looks back at me.
"What are you doing?"
I purse my lips and turn to my feet. I clutch my candle, finding it hard to speak. 
"Lucy kick you out of her bed?" he mutters then begins to walk off.
I look up and follow after him. I finally muster out, "you arrive later and later."
He scoffs.
"It's been five days. I fear you'll not return by the tenth."
I pull my head back and stop in my tracks just as the Hound turns and chuckles, "don't worry, little girl. I like the wages of a Lord. Your hound isn't running."
"I know you're not running!" I snap, "I wonder why you think so poorly of yourself!"
"I think poorly of myself?" he hisses and points to his chest.
"Yes!" I bark and push myself up on my tiptoes to prove a point, "and since you are so keen to put words in my mouth, I hope you shove all the fucking pie the unwitting peasants gave you down your blasted throat!"
The Hound is shocked by my profanity. His face slips into confusion.
I heave and pull back, intent on walking away. And I do. I should have never waited for him.
"What fucking pie?"
I snap and turn back at him, "the one you could have eaten fresh had you spared a moment this morning before leaving for a monster hunt!"
Sandor is wholeheartedly confused.
I am aggravated by his expression. I wave my hands, unintentionally putting out the flame of my candle, "they love you, Hound! They're thankful and grateful!"
Though it was darker now, I see his face pinch in to a sort of disgusted disbelief. The sight infuriates me, it squeezes my heart, it pricks me frustration. I wipe my face and repeat the words that were spoken to me, "tell Lord Clegane that without him my children would be dead. Tell Lord Clegane that he has saved me family from hunger. Tell Lord Clegane that me, and my sons, and my sheep are happy to-"
"I didn't do it for them," Sandor cuts me off with a hand raise.
I purse my lips and slowly pull my head back at his words.
He lowers his hand and eyes me for a moment. I see how his gaze drinks my figure. He clenches his jaw and looks away, "you should be asleep."
My jaw slacks.
I wait for him to look at me. I wait for him to ask if I was going to sleep with Lucy again. I wait for him to apologize for keeping me up worrying. I wait for him to bring up Daisy. I wait him to do something, but he doesn't.
My eyes water, "my lo-"
"Good night," he dismisses and turns around to walk away.
"Aren't you-" my voice cracks, "-going to ask me to go to bed with you?"
He stops in his tracks. He does not look back, "do you want me to?"
I furrow my brows deeply. I feel like I was drowning. I let out a shaky breath and wrap my arms around myself. I shake my head and turn away. I chuckle dryly, "forgive me for even asking."
Sandor turns back, jaw hanging, hands clenched. He does nothing but watch.
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"Do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"
"Yes."
"What's going to happen?"
"You're going to fuck me."
Sandor laughs lowly, placing his hands on my cheeks. He swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."
He kisses me deeply.
"Tell me honest," he mutters through kisses, "have you ever done this before?" he speaks as his hands paw at my sides, "I would not judge you if you did."
I squeak when he touches me between my thighs.
He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't; you're a good girl."
I gasp at the sound of thunder. I jolt up from my bed-- I turn to my side, seeing a sleeping Lucy's form-- or I mean, Lucy's bed. I look for Daisy in the room as I slowly push the blankets off me. I still when I realize she wasn't here.
I huff and wipe my face. I try to push away the thoughts of Daisy out of my head. I try not to think of her so much because I end up melancholy and furious. I, instead, find myself drifting to the dream I just had-- been having.
The mind can be so treacherous. I nibble my lower lip and rub my belly.
I tried, you know. I went to the Hound the morning after we fought about his coming home late. I tried to make peace with him. I tried to persuade him. I tried to kiss him.
I gasp again when another crack of thunder echoes through the room.
He wasn't having it though. He pushed me away and told me it was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing that. He left the estate shortly after. He hasn't been home since.
I get out of bed and light a candle for myself. I walk to my bedroom and light any of the candles that went off on my way. I wrap my arms around myself and rub my skin. I open the door to room as softly as possible, though it didn't really matter in the end because it was pouring outside and the noise wouldn't be loud.
With a barely audible creak, the door opens.
And it was also empty.
I sigh at the made bed. I walk towards it and smoothen out the already smooth sheets. I decide to get dressed for the day.
I head to the office, which as empty as the bedroom. I light the candles there.
I sit down on the desk and go through the papers, the letters of requests, the list of complaints, the finances, the works. I rub my eyes, willing my sleep away. I look out my window, seeing barely any hint of sun through the dark clouds.
I don't know how exactly how much time passed between then and when Arron burst in, but it must have been a while, considering how nice it felt to stand after hearing him shout, "HE'S HOME, MILADY!"
I immediately blow out the candles as Arron tells me the Hound was in the living area. I thank him for telling me, gather my skirts, and jog out of the room.
I cannot hear the click of my heels over the sound of the persisting rain-- the persisting storm.
I stop in my tracks when I see a trail of water in the corridor that led to my bedroom.
A crack of lightning bolts through the sky when I walk in and ask "where have you been?!"
The Hound is dripping in rain water. He has his back turned to me. He is undoing his armor.
I clench my fists and storm up to him. I circle in front of him the same time he walks towards the closet. He stops there, still undoing his armor, back turned to me again.
I scowl, "Hound! I'm speaking to you!"
He looks over his shoulder, the one he was trying to undo, "what? I can't hear you over the rain."
I burn hot with anger and march up to him, "I asked where you've been!"
The Hound looks down at me. He releases the grip on his shoulder, "does it matter where I've been?"
"Yes!" I snap, "you haven't come home in 7 days."
He scoffs, "thrilling to know you've been counting," he points to the window, "well, as you can see, it's fucking storming."
"It wasn't storming the day you left," I hiss.
"Well, it was when I decided to come to my beautiful wife," he leans down and jeers.
I knit my brows at him and pull back when I smell the alcohol in his breath.
He takes my chin between his fingers, "come on give us a smile."
I pull away from him, heart racing, chin burning, even though his touch got my skin damp with rain water.
The Hound straightens up and undoes his armor again.
I step away from him, "Job said he saw you in the next town over."
"Who the fuck is Job?" he asks, not bothering to look at me.
"Polly's father."
"The stable boy?" he turns to me.
"Yes," I hiss and I feel anger build up in me.
He says nothing.
I nearly choke when I say the next words, "he said he saw you coming out of brothel."
The Hound stills. He drops his hands to the side.
Both of us just stand there for a moment. The rain seems to intensify, and so does the tension between us.
"Tell me the truth," I mutter, "do you-"
"It was the town with the fucking unavailable inn," he shifts in his spot to turn to me, "I went to the brothel instead and paid for lodging there."
I purse my lips at his words. That was not what I was going to ask him. I battle with myself, trying to find the words I want to say. I revise my words over and over again in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet so little ways to make it easy to speak out.
I shake my head, "am I very hard to want?"
Sandor feels rain water drip from his fingers.
I don't know how I feel about the bewildered and perplexed expression that spreads across his face. I do know one thing at least, I feel too exhausted to cry.
I sigh and shrug, "I am no fool, Hound. I learned through the gossip of my maids and my aunts growing up that men are simply like... this. It is their nature to stray. Of course, I hoped different for myself, but we cannot have it all, can we?"
"But I didn't do anything," he snaps. He deflates, "I swear by the gods, old and new."
I press my lips into a tight smile. I slowly walk up to him. He watches me intently. I hear his breath hitch when I begin to undo his armor for him. I half expect him to make me stop. He doesn't.
Sandor steps forward. There's barely any space between us anymore. His heart is racing. His hands itch to touch. He releases a breath when his hand comes to my side.
My stomach swirls at the feel of his palm but I do nothing. Neither do I look at him when I mutter, "maybe you should."
Sandor watches me remove his armor. He furrow his brows and whispers, "what?"
I drop the steel plate to the ground with a clank. It is loud even with the sound of pouring rain.
He doesn't like it when he receives no reply. He takes my wrist. I stop my task. His hand is warm albeit the dampness, and so very gentle. 
I finally look up at him.
He leans closer and speaks louder. He shakes his head and furrows his brows, "what did you say, pretty squirrel?"
I raise my brows, "maybe you should."
"Should what?"
"Do something in the brothels."
His face falls. We stare at each other for a moment. He is clearly in disbelief.
I pull my hand out of his grip. He almost doesn't let me.
"It's not a trick, I swear it."
"What are you saying?" he shakes his head faster and finds himself playing on the offensive, "you want me to be with someone else?!"
"I want a baby," I mutter.
Sandor's face falls again, but then it twists. It is unbearable to look at.
"Find a woman you desire," I turn away from him, "and give her your seed. You may keep her here if you like, and I will let her take care of the babe, but the babe will be mine."
His lips part.
"You're right. I don't want the memory of my family to be tainted by monstrosity-"
He shakes his head once more.
"-and I am the last of my line. My line lives on with House Clegane. People remember names, not blood."
He takes my hand, "I desire you."
I cannot help it. I begin to cry because of that. I break into both tears and laughter, "you needn't shield my heart, Sandor."
Sandor's stomach drops, both at the fact his own words have been used against him and with how his name was spoken.
I place a hand on his cheek.
His knees go weak.
"We've both hurt enough," I smile, "I know you think otherwise, but I'm not a little girl. I know sometimes winning means admitting defeat when the loss is great."
He grabs both my wrists when I try to pull away. I gasp when he does so. He holds me for a second then releases my wrists to capture my cheeks instead. He wipes my tears with his thumbs. He swipes my lips, "I love you."
I screw my eyes shut and cling onto his forearm. I let out another laugh, "I don't think you hurt people that you love, my lord."
The Hound is pierced through his armor.
He doesn't put up a fight when I pull his hands off me.
I continue to undo his armor. He doesn't move an inch.
"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he whispers. The sound of the rain is too loud that only him and the gods heard it.
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Sandor had been out of it ever since his pretty squirrel ate his insides. He was thick faced, literally and figuratively; he's learned to take pride in it, to find solace in the fact all the years of flesh ripping torture-- figuratively and literally, had made him indifferent to what people think, made him apathetic, numb.
And yet her smile that day was worse than a sword through the spleen. Her disbelief in his words-- because she was right, you don't hurt people you love-- was heart wrenching, blood draining.
What do you say to that? How do you fix that?
You don't.
He knows you don't. You can't fix something like that.
And since this truth has dawned on him, since this truth has slit his throat, he's been a headless, mindless fucker. He was a dead man walking, and one more unwitting monster attack away from making it real.
"MILORD!" Carter cries, raising his sword to hack at the monster who managed to swipe his lately-been-aloof Lord Clegane.
The boy is fired up; his blood is pumping enough to enable him to cut the black demon's arm off and sequentially pierce it through its heart. Carter does it with a scream and regrets it a moment later; after all, they were in the middle of the woods.
They have to get out of here.
Sandor makes a pained noise. He feels heat surge down his arm and cold shiver up his spine.
"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Carter gasps, mortified that his lord's armor was scraped off his back. The boy realizes suddenly that his Lord, the fearsome Hound, was not invincible. This newfound truth rips into his ribs the way, he thinks, the monsters would.
The boy immediately takes the Hound in his arms, though it wasn't like he could actually carry him if he wanted. Sandor steadies himself on the boy; Carter struggles even with that task. 
Still, the smaller manages to support his Lord out of the woods.
The next thing Sandor knows, he's screaming and thrashing. He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps skidding away from him.
"What's happening, Maester Yannick?!"
A deep sigh, "he probably feels the pain now."
Sandor realizes he's sat down on a stool, leaned against a table, or at least he was before he started flailing his arms around. He lets out a guttural cry as he pushes himself up. He realizes he's in the ward, being attended by the maester, and his wife was present and very troubled.
"My lord!" Yannick exclaims, raising his hands in both surrender and an attempt to soothe, "it's alright. I have stitched your wounds closed. Do not tear them open "
Sandor huffs through his nostrils. He turns to his side when he hears the soft way his name was spoken. Lady Clegane walks closer, hand wanting to reach out to him. He almost reaches back but then she digs her nails into her palms.
He sinks into the stool and watches her look at him. Her eyes are glassy. Why are they always glassy?
"My lord," Yannick walks towards him, "I'm going to wrap your wounds now."
Sandor huffs in agreement, or more accurately, acknowledgement. His eyes are still fixed on her though. He watches her hover around him, evidently unsure about approaching him.
He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, to soothe her so, so badly.
He's shocked when she decides to take his hand and whispers, "shall I get you milk of the poppy?" 
Sandor looks up at her. Her voice was shaky and he hates how worried it sounded, how desperate. He hates how her eyes were constantly red. He knits his brows, "no."
She hisses, "are you certain? Your gashes are deep. No one in the world would fault you for wanting something to relieve the pain."
"I want to feel it," he mutters, "I want��to feel."
She looks between the two of them in a panic, "but you've lost so much blood--"
"Perhaps," Yannick interrupts firmly. He starts binding his wounds, "he wants to feel precisely because he's light headed after losing blood."
Sandor straightens up slowly as he is instructed to. His attention is solely focused on the sensation on his hand though, on how the jittery squirrel was rubbing her soft fingers on his calloused skin.
She persists with this action until his chest and back is bound, she persists until Maester Yannick leaves the room, she persists until, next moment, she drops on her knees beside him. The Hound reacts in an instant.
He gets on the floor beside her, uncaring how it hurt his back, and clutches her face. He calls her name in horror.
"Are you punishing me?" she whispers as water in her eyes threaten to spill.
Sandor knits his brows deeply. He can't speak. He's too afraid to. Everything he's said up until that point has done nothing but rip them both apart. He was a hound after all.
"Are you trying to kill yourself to get back at me?" she mutters, distressed, pained, and defeated.
His face contorts even more. He hesitates but then shakes his head, "no."
"The boy said you've been acting differently as of late!" she grabs his wrists, "ever since I told you what I wanted from you."
His lips twitch. He looks away.
She tightens her grip, "please."
He is suddenly so acutely aware of his injuries. The pain throbs all the way through his heart.
"Please," she begs softly, "just tell me what you want from me-"
"Everything."
The way he responded was quick, as if it was practiced, as if it was reflex.
He avoids her gaze. He takes a deep breath. He waits for a response he somehow knows will never come.
When he turns to her, he notices how her face dropped. Gods, Sandor. Get it together.
"I want-" he starts but cannot continue because of how guilty he feels over the sight of her wobbling lip.
Sandor's hands loosen. They melt from her cheeks, down her shoulders. He grips the area, as if she was water about to slip through his fingers. He releases a breath, and with it, it seems, his thoughts escape. He mutters somethings that mean nothing. She doesn't understand anything.
She whimpers, "I have nothing left to give; you already have it all."
The Hound freezes when his cheek is touched, when his scar is touched. It's like it's being burned all over again.
"Is there something I can give you now?" she huffs uneasily.
He sighs. He feels the wounds throbbing; he feels his head pounding, "no."
"Then will you let me go now?" 
No. No, no, no, no-
"Or, please, at least loosen your grip."
Immediately, Sandor releases her shoulders. She sequentially lets out a breath and rubs the area. There is an imprint on the area of her exposed skin.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-
"Do you want me to stay?"
Yes. "Do you want to stay?"
"I had planned to finish some errands before going to bed."
Sandor averts his gaze then slowly crawls back to his stool, "then leave."
It almost hurts as much as his cuts how quickly she stands. She looks down at him, "I will leave you to your solidarity."
Please don't go.
"I will tell Maester Yannick to come back to attend to you, Hound."
Hound. It sounds like shattering glass.
Sandor listens to the click of her heels as she leaves him.
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jade-len · 3 months
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so today i tricked my very straight male friend into reading svsss.
okay look, i wasn't planning to at first and it's not like it was completely my fault. he wanted to read it!
i was showing him how badly they fucked up mu qingfang in the donghua by comparing it to the english novel design (he said that mu qingfang went from looking like a soft dilf to a predator registered on the epstein island list). and then, i showed him how different some of the other character designs were like gongyi xiao's ("he looks like he'd be a genshin character" -friend, to eng novel design) and luo binghe's ("lowkey, he kinda gives airbender vibes" -friend, to bunhe eng novel design)
so that was all i was gonna show him, nothing else. but after seeing them, he goes, "these designs actually look hella cool. what's the book called?"
now, do i:
A. tell him the name, eventually revealing that it's a danmei when he looks it up?
B. just straight up tell him that it's a danmei?
C: don't tell him the name just yet, spill the summary, get him interested, and tell him to not search anything up about it because there's heavy spoilers and it will reveal them the moment he types it up on the search bar
i go with C, obviously.
me: so, basically, some guy named shen yuan transmigrates into an incel harem male power fantasy novel where the protagonist, luo binghe, has hundreds of wives. thing is though, the guy pretty much took over the body of binghe's teacher he had when he was a teenager, who turns out to be a really scummy dude. and now he has to be nice to him so that the protagonist doesn't rip off his limbs and put him into a pickle pot in the future to suffer for eternity.
friend: that sounds hilarious and horrifying at the same time.
me: yes it is, and you should read it. it's like. my favorite novel at the moment. but don't search up anything about it because people spoil that shit. i'll let you borrow my novel
friend: nah don't worry, i'll just pirate it
friend: wait. does it have pictures?
me, my plan coming together: yeah, it has pictures. buuut, when you pirate it, it doesn't. trust me dude, i tried and was severely disappointed. plus, the physical copy is so much better
friend: fuck yeah ok thanks
me: hold on though. i'll text you later to see if my friend who's borrowing it rn is done reading it
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he's hyped. he's excited. he craves a good book and a good transmigration interpretation. he's especially happy about the fact that it takes place in a chinese setting with cool powers and an actual good main character. "this sounds so good, god i wanna read it so bad."
i tell him that binghe is actually adorable, too. that it's pretty much found family! my friend then asks if shen yuan adopts him and becomes a father figure or something.
and i said "yes". you know, like a liar. (the father figure part probably isn't a lie though)
now i'm gonna give him the novel tomorrow! of course, i'm gonna cover the chapter 2 bunhe sexual awakening scene with washi tape and say that my baby cousin (sorry baby cousin, you would never <\3) scribbled all over that paragraph with her markers, and since i'm a neat book freak, i put washi tape and just wrote the scene! i don't know if that's really all too believable, but he didn't seem to care that much. just a simple "if my baby cousin did that to my book i would punt them into the sun"
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i think what'll be more hilarious is the fact that you can't really tell that svsss is a BL. especially not volume 1. there's like, only a few lines indicating, but if you remove the baby binghe sexual awakening scene then you probably won't be able to know (...if you don't really read romance or anything. idk he's kinda dense anyways). so let's hope he gets attached and has a slow descent into the homo before i drop svsss vol 2 on him!
ok anyways i'll update you guys later with a reblog. maybe in about two or three days lol
(also don't worry, we already fuck around with each other on a daily basis like this. he's already tricked me into reading some manga i was unprepared for, and i thought that it'd be funny to mess around with him using svsss this time lol)
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mitsies · 9 months
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i just read "intrinsic warmth" and it was sooo good ( YOU AHVE AMAZING TASTE). pls give us more gojo recs ao3 or tumblr.
gojo + ao3:
UPDATED
+ intrinsic warmth: my favourite fic of all time. like genuinely. insane writing, fucking amazing in every sense of the term. 2nd time recommending this! reader's character is so sick BUT updates real slow (which isnt a bad thing!! good things take time!!) so i wouldn't read if you aren't patient // 90k words, 13 chapters, incomplete
+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces
+ the witches' brew: super cute fluff! reader owns a cafe, gojo is a regular, it's all around adorable // 2 chapters, 11k words, completed
+ all that is solid melts into air: arranged marriage trope! i haven't read but @/aanobrain loves this one // 7k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ cake batter: established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi <33 not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list.. // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ best of luck: initial concept is really unique!! confessions, slight angst, takes place at the beginning/middle-ish of s1 i think? so cute loved this &lt;;3 // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ afternoon tea(se): gojo torturing megumi. classic !! so so cute love the banter // 1.7k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ my apologies, gordon ramsay: god i hate this man. jk. reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! // 8k words, 1 chapter, complete
+ a name known only to paper: platonic, angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. reader is gojo's older sibling. // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete
gojo + tumblr:
+ untitled by @/augustinewrites: actually idk if there's a title and if i just can't find it but... this is so so cute love me a lil drunkass gojo hes so cute and the author writes him so well i am a huge fan LMFAO just check out their whole masterlist if u havent alr!!
+ i could fall asleep or stare in your eyes (you're right by my side) by @/seoafin: hurt/comfort !!! lovely, this author's writing style is so so good i eat this shit UPP
+ growing pains by @/seoafin: another lovely work by this author!! im pretty sure they also wrote ripverse (on the ao3 part) as well? parental gojo again!
+ close combat by @aanobrain: honestly it's taking everything in me to not link all of art's gojo fics so i'm limiting myself to my fav 3, and this is one: love the reader's personality, so so much and NO im not biased bc i helped write it....
+ family photo by @aanobrain: fifteen THOUSAND words of pure mastery. the motifs, techniques, all make an intricate storyline even better- wonderful characterisation and i cannot express enough how amazing this is
+ 10:15 AM by @aanobrain: short n silly. this one makes me giggle. i requested it in return for an aki fic i wrote which is how u know its good. ok bye done w aanobrain art now i dont even know them who is this
+ quiet game drabble by @/moonbeamwritings: so so cute looooove silent treatment fics bc theyre always so silly n this is characterised so well !!
+ no good, very bad date by @sixosix: again i am fighting my demons to not rec all of six's gojo fics........ THIS ONE IS MY FAV THO!!! so so fluffy so sooo fluffy i thrw up in my mouth (in a good way)
+ fan letters by @sixosix: FLUSTERED GOJO............. i was hissing and squirming and [REDACTED] wjen i read this for the first time. short n so so sweet
+ formation b! by @earthtooz: oh god another place where i want to give u the whole masterlist... go check it out if u havent alr but this is a classic i LOOOVE my sillies !! teacher gojo based on that one ending cutscene w megumi its so so sweet
+ untitled by @earthtooz: ok again idk if there is a title i am finding all of these fics bc theyre saved in my drafts but.... THIS IS SO CUTE!! if i were to give it a name i'd call it 'gojo being awhore but only for u'
+ untitled by @/od4saku: hmmmmmmmmm this is cute!!!!! kinda a character study i liked it ;)
okay so... this is as far as ima go because i have been staring at this man's face and name for way longer than is probably healthy!! but if u want more recs i'm sure i can find some because i'm actually insane!! hope i could help !
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Text
Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 12
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Reader struggles to accept this colder relationship with Bucky. Meanwhile's he's up to something...
Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, lots of angst, violence, PTSD/nightmares, panic attacks, language, SMUT 18+ only, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, let me know if I'm missing anything
a/n: Hi friends, I'm sorry it's been so long. My depression came at me like a b*tch. But I'm here now and will hopefully be posting more regularly 💕
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Every night, Bucky would hand you that stupid syringe. Your heart sunk a little each time he’d knock on the door. You were hoping he was coming to spend time with you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, to hold you. But instead, he would put the syringe in your hand, kiss your forehead, and leave the room. That was it. 
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was spending all his time with Steve - almost every day. You could hear them talking downstairs. You could never actually make out what they were saying, but you could hear their serious tones murmuring through the thin walls. You considered standing at the top of the stairs so you could eavesdrop, but you knew better than to spy on two super soldiers. So instead you paced around the bedroom–the one that you were supposed to be sharing with Bucky–and waited for Steve to leave. Although no one outright said it, you got the feeling that you weren’t invited to their little chats. One time, you went downstairs with the excuse of needing a snack. They immediately shifted the topic to Steve’s recent mission. Steve, ever the gentleman, would greet you with a warm smile and invite you to sit with them. He’d ask you how you’re feeling, how your day was going, if you’ve read any good books lately. You appreciated his kindness but felt a little awkward – surely they were itching for you to leave so they could return to their conversation. Once the small talk became unbearable, you’d fake a headache and excuse yourself. You claimed you were going to go lie down, but they could hear your faint footsteps pacing on the hardwood above them.
~
Bucky was completely and utterly miserable. He was still fuming about the sensors they implanted in you. You were his wife, and he couldn’t protect you. It made him feel powerless. He couldn’t stop thinking about how panicked you were the last time you had sex. He could feel your anxiety. He couldn’t help but think he violated you in some way. This prevented him from giving you any affection; he was terrified of crossing a boundary with you. The forehead kisses were as far as he dared to go. Deep down, he knew he should sit down and have a conversation with you about it. But if he heard you say outright that you don’t want to be intimate with him anymore, he would be devastated. 
~
After three weeks of doing this ridiculous syringe routine, you couldn’t take it anymore. He handed you the syringe, kissed your forehead, and turned to leave. Just like every other night. But this time, you reached out to grab his hand.
“Please don’t go,” you whispered, tears already welling up in your eyes. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate for his attention. 
“Oh, doll…” Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. His heart was breaking, seeing you like this. 
“Please, just stay the night. We don’t even have to talk. Just spend the night with me,” you begged, tears freely falling down your cheeks. “I miss you.” Your confession was all it took for Bucky to realize what an idiot he was. He was so desperate to protect you, he didn’t even occur to him that he might be hurting you. 
“Of course, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m sorry I left you alone so much,” Bucky admitted, pulling you into a tight hug. “I was so scared I’d upset you, but I seriously screwed up.” He rubbed your back as you let all your tears fall. All those weeks of feeling so alone, but you finally had your Bucky back. You wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time. 
He helped you with the syringe, which was oddly romantic. He was very gentle. Once that was over with, he pulled you into his chest, running his hands through your hair and down your back. You let out a long sigh – you had missed this so much. You forgot how your head felt resting on his toned muscles, how warm his chest was, how safe you felt. It was like a dream. A wonderful, euphoric dream.
“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked softly. The question caught you so off guard, your finger paused before it could finish tracing the scars on his chest. Propping yourself up, you looked at him quizzically. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” you replied. You were trying not to be offended that he would doubt you. 
“All I’ve wanted to do is protect you,” he began, sitting up to fully face you. He took your hands in his, mindlessly fidgeting with the diamond ring on your left hand. “But I’ve failed every time.”
“Bucky–“ you tried to cut him off, but he continued.
“No matter how hard I try, you end up getting hurt. I hope you can forgive me. Some days I can barely live with myself, knowing how much pain I’ve caused you.”
“Bucky, for Christ’s sake. This is NOT your fault!” you interjected, hating to see him beat himself up like this. 
“Doll, please just let me explain. It’s important,” he said, giving your hands a small squeeze. You nodded slowly and stayed silent, letting him continue. The urgency in his voice was scaring you. “You deserve better than to stay here and pay for my sins. I can’t stand to watch you suffer like this. Okay? I need you to understand.” His pleading eyes looked deep into yours. The more he talked, the more fearful you became. “I’ve told you some of the atrocities I’ve committed as HYDRA’s assassin. The things I’ve done to further their agenda, to get them in power,” he sighed deeply before continuing. “With the number of times they scrambled my brain, they assumed I couldn’t remember anything. That I wouldn’t recognize faces. But I do. I remember all of them.”
Your heart was breaking for the man in front of you. All those people he killed and all the ones that made him do it. They all take up space in his mind. No wonder he never sleeps. 
“The HYDRA members they arrested when I was freed…that was only a small fraction of them. HYRDRA is everywhere. If I break you out, there’s nowhere we could go that would be safe. I can’t rescue you until I dismantle HYDRA.” He paused and waited for your reaction. He wasn’t sure how you’d respond to all this. 
“Wait a second…are you saying HYDRA is behind all this? I mean that would make sense, this whole reproducing super soldiers thing is messed up, and they’re not exactly known for being ethical. But HYDRA working inside SHIELD? All this time? That’s…” You wanted to say impossible, but ever since your world got turned upside down, you don’t know what to expect anymore. You’ve completely lost sense of what’s normal. “So what do we do? If it’s as big as you say, there’s no way you can take them down alone.”
Bucky let out a deep sigh, looking around the room as if the words he’s trying to find will reveal themselves in the wallpaper. His gaze meets yours, but he won’t find the answer in your eyes either. He held your hands in his and took a deep breath.
“Steve and I have a plan. But we’re gonna need your help.”
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