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star-girl69 · 5 months

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Fade Into You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you fell first, but clarisse fell harder. requested by anonymous!

a/n: decided to feed y’all today….. two fics i’m a monster that just creates and creates. this was so funny bc i kept accidentally writing angst and i had to stop myself. they’re allowed to have crushes on each other. it’s ok. this was hard anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

warnings: just so cutesy, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, soft clarisse i looooovvvvveeeeee you, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your chest heaves. You’ve never ran that fast or that far before in your life. Your satyr protector runs ahead to get the healers, and you crash against some random building- a tool shed, maybe?

You groan, crouching down to clutch at your lower leg sporting a large gash running blood. You don’t remember how it happened. Maybe it was when you fell? You could have sliced it open on an unfortunately sharp stick.

You don’t even want to think about the fact that the stupid monster thing chasing you could have gotten close enough to claw at you.

“Hey, hey,” someone says, crouching down next to you. She’s wearing an orange shirt. Her hair is curly, her eyes are pretty and brown, and oxygen isn’t getting to your brain so she kind of seems like an angel. “Oh, wow,” she mutters, looking at your leg. “One second, ‘kay?”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing onto her forearm. She looks up at you.

“I’m going two steps away, dummy.” She laughs, and you’ll remember that sound for the rest of your life.

She leaves you, and you almost want to cry because you feel so alone. You’ve just been told you’re a demigod, then you were forced to run through the woods, your heart is still hammering and your leg fucking burns.

But she was right. It was only two steps, and she comes back, the door of what must be some sort of storage shutting behind her.

She leans back down and presses a towel against your gash.

You hiss.

“Sorry,”

“You’re not.” She laughs again. More beautiful music in your ears.

“I’m not,” she agrees.

You fall into silence, it’s so dark out, but you can see everything about her so clearly.

“You can stop breathing so heavily,” she whispers, the shouting of your satyr protector getting closer, along with what must be the healers. “Camp Half-Blood is surrounded by a magical barrier. You’re safe here. Well, at least, no monsters are gonna get you.

“O-okay,” you mumble. You aren’t sure if you believe her. You don’t think you believe anything anymore.

The healers push her away, you’re so so tired, and she stands up, dusting off her hands.

“Thank you, Clarisse,” one of the healers says. “We’ll take it from here.”

Clarisse.

—-

The purpose of Clarisse La Rue’s entire existence seems to be to drive you insane.

The way her arms flex when she wields her spear, the way she lifts her shirt up to dab at sweat on her brow; and the way you can see her toned stomach and the faintest hint of abs you would actually kill to touch. The way she smiles, even though it’s never really genuine, and the way she laughs when she’s making fun of someone.

She was the first person you met at camp, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t even remember it, yet alone know your name.

It was ironic, as the daughter of Aphrodite, to be quietly pining over someone from the distance. And it sucked, but maybe you would just always have this quiet crush on Clarisse, and you learned to take it like you took your breakfast.

Until the start of this summer, when everyone came back to camp, it was alive again, and it all changed. And now you’re fucked.

—-

You smile, watching a few of the younger campers scream about how amazing the lake is. Summer’s just started. It’s so beautiful this time of year. They didn’t have as traumatic experiences as you, no monsters chased them right up to the barrier of camp. The lake is huge and so blue it seems otherworldly- probably because it is.

You slam into something.

It’s an awkward flare of limbs and muttered obscenities, but you manage to keep yourself upright by falling back into a very convenient tree.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up and expecting to make eye contact with anyone but her.

You haven’t been face to face with Clarisse in four years. You mouth snaps shut, and you’re sure you look like a terrified deer in headlights.

She’s frozen just like you.

“W-watch where you’re going,” she hisses, pushing you farther into the tree as she walks past you.

Did Clarisse just stutter?

—-

Clarisse stares at you.

You blush like you’re about to turn into a flamingo.

The cycle repeats.

—-

This year, the Ares and Aphrodite cabins were paired together to share the field for sword practice just before dinner. The sun is hidden by the trees, providing some nice shade as you frown at all the Ares kids sparring like their lives depend on it.

While Aphrodite kids are not the most naturally skilled in fighting, you’re still demigods, and you still have to know how to protect yourselves.

Matty, a Ares child and your sister Tyla’s boyfriend, already sparred three times, winning against his siblings, then sparred with Tyla once; which just ended with her getting bored after a minute and dropping her sword before jumping into his arms.

You watch random people spar. Everyone moves around you, Tyla and Matty are on top of each other next to you on the bench, everyone walks around you to collect their water bottles from the table behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna spar, Y/N?” Tyla asks, fiddling with Matty’s hands.

“No,” you laugh.

“That’s against the rules.”

You know that voice, you hear that annoyingly angelic voice in your dreams.

Clarisse sits down next to you. You can hear Tyla smiling. Only a few of your siblings who can be trusted to keep a secret know about your wretched crush. You’re probably blushing.

“Uh, what?” you say, looking in her direction but not risking actually looking at her.

“You have to spar,” she says, like it’s painfully obvious, kicking out her legs.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you shrug.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Y/N,” Matty muses.

You shoot him a bored look. “Sounds like you’re whipped, Matty.”

Tyla is currently in Matty’s lap, her hands in his hair.

“Oh, definitely,” he says, turning towards Tyla with a sweet smile on his face and she coos and immediately attaches her face to his.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter, turning away from the two of them having borderline sex on the bench.

Clarisse laughs.

You clench your fist, you feel like you’re gonna explode being so close to her and not able to climb up into her lap and kiss her like a woman starved.

“You still have to spar, you know.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Hm, no. I won’t have to.”

You finally look towards her, if only because you’re confused, but she’s looking straight out at the the distance, where a certain centaur is making his way to the fields-

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, immediately jumping up and scrambling for a sword from the pile behind you.

You turn around, hoping one of your siblings is free so you can spar with them-

The sword is ripped out of your hands.

“That one sucks,” Clarisse says, simply, while you stand there with your mouth open. She rifles through the swords. “Use this one instead.”

The one she hands you does seem a lot easier to hold. Not too heavy, not too light.

How the hell could she tell which one is best for you just by looking at you?

“Matty,” Clarisse says. “Chiron’s coming.”

Tyla and Matty both hop up, giggling at they make their way towards one of the marked circles.

As you’re left there with Clarisse, it suddenly hits you that after four years of simple indifference, she’s talking to you like she knows you. Or like she wants to know you.

You like her too much to question it. You want her too much to be bothered as to why she’s giving you five minutes of her time.

Clarisse walks away. You thought it was going to happen, so your heart feels this sort of heavy that is indescribable, but she turns around.

“Are you coming?” she asks, deadpan.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you say, sticking your sword under your arm and cracking your knuckles. With Chiron showing up, she leads you to the marked circle all the way at the edge of the field, the start of the woods, the very last one.

She stops and turns around, this sort of nonchalant but smug look on her face. She reaches forward and bats your hands away from each other with a single swat that leaves you so shocked from the feeling of her skin on hers that your hands fall to your sides.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt ‘em.”

Here, right in front of the trees, the sun shining through the gaps shines off of Clarisse’s tan skin and her bronze armor in a way that makes her look otherworldly.

Clarisse’s that kind of pretty where you just never want to stop staring at her. The kind of pretty where you just want to fade into her and be next to her; the kind of pretty where nothing compares to her but it just watches her too.

Like the sun behind her, it isn’t jealous, it just admires her and shines off her skin.

She’s smirking at you, her knees bending into an offensive position, her spear pointing at you.

“He’s watching,” she taunts, and you’re really not in the mood for a lecture and the loss of dessert privileges, so you copy her.

“I’m not the best-”

She spins forward, spear arcing toward you. You yelp, raising your sword up to block her spear. They slam together.

“You’ll do fine,” she smiles, so smug in a way that makes you want to slap her and kiss her all at once.

“Whatever,” you mumble as she pulls back.

But you feel a little more confident with her praise, launching a surprise attack. She seems a little shocked, but she blocks it, probably a bit closer than normal.

“Feisty,” she murmurs.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

She launches her own attack, more force behind it this time, and it’s harder to stop her, but you do, you push her back.

“It means you’re exactly like I thought you were.”

You frown, because what is she even saying, but she launches another attack, smiling brightly as you block it, her eyes never leaving your form.

It’s a blurry of your heartbeat in your ears, her smile, the clash of her spear and your sword, the rest of the field coming to life with the sound of metal on metal, wins and losses.

Your arm is growing heavy.

But you keep your eyes open, blocking her attacks and waiting for an opening you’re not sure will ever come.

Finally, she reveals her side, and you swing, your sword clanging as it hits her metal armor.

She looks down at your sword and then you.

When she looks up again, it’s never the same.

—-

“Did you let me win that first day?”

You’re in the woods with her, so many months after that first day, and it all still feels like it was yesterday. You’re laying on a blanket on the soft grass, facing each other, limbs tangled together and her arm around you.

“Hm?” she says, slightly sleepy.

“When we sparred?”

“Oh,” she smiles, yawns. “Yeah, I let you win.”

You gasp and hit her arm.

“Clar, that’s, like, horrible. Our relationship was built on lies.”

You’re the only person allowed to call her that.

She frowns. “It wasn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I was gloating over you for months, and you let me-”

“Okay, but, you still won. I just helped you a bit. That’s what a good girlfriend should do.”

“You were not my girlfriend then.”

“Yeah, but you wanted me to be. For how long? Four years?”

You roll yours eyes. “You bumped into me once and then became obsessed with me.”

She smiles against you as she kisses your forehead.

“Who wouldn’t?” she snorts. “Not my fault you bumped into me in a way no one else ever has, angel.”

“My love language is just bumping into people, I think.”

“Then you can’t bump into anybody but me. Or else I’d kill them, probably.”

“A true romantic.”

She wraps her arms around you, muscles flexing as she pulls you on top of her.

“Only for you, angel,” she says, eyes falling closed again. “‘M cold, be my blanket.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all rough and tough?”

“Can’t be with you,” she yawns. “Love you too much. Now shush. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“You big baby,” you mumble. “Big bad Clarisse needs to fall asleep with her girlfriend and get her full eight hours or else she’ll go on a rampage.”

“Damn right.”

Clarisse is the type of pretty that just makes you wanna fade into her. And you do, in the light of the rising moon, the light of the fading sun. You fade into her.

—-

y/n when clarisse helps her on her first day: wow, an angel 😍😍

clarisse when y/n bumps into her: wow, an angel 😍😍

ALSO CLARISSE CALLING Y/N ANGEL???? I THINK I’VE FOUND MY NEW OBSESSION Y’ALL

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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mustainegf · 18 days

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This idea came to me and I needed to write it bro

SUMMARY: Looking through his friends drawer for a shirt she’d borrowed from him, Dave finds something else hidden. A vibrator. This is the very thing that encourages him to shut himself in the bathroom, bringing the toy along with him.

WARNINGS: Sex toy male & female use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, kinda perverted Dave,

As I rifled through her drawers, searching for one of my shirts, that's when I saw it. Smooth, white silicone. With quirked brows and interest, I reached for the unknown object.

I pulled it out, eying it for a second before I realized what it was. Its a vibrator.

I've seen them before, but not like this. This one is small and thin, made for discreetness and silence.

It had three different modes, a red light for power and it looked new. Ilet out a low chuckle, a mixture of surprise and curiosity. She never showed any interest in such things before, yet here it is.

What a filthy girl, keeping this littletoy to herself.

My dick was stirring to life in my pants at the thought of her using the toy in my hand.

Sure, it felt a little wrong to be staring at something of hers that was so private, but my cock was aching harder as the seconds passed.

I couldn't help but wonder how many times she had used it. I pressed the button and the soft vibrations met my palm. Not too strong, not too weak. Just right. I could almost picture her in bed, basked in the dark of the night, moaning out my name as she pressed the toy to her most sensitive spots.

| I gulped, my bulge becoming uncomfortable.

Fuck it.

I quickly shut the drawer, heading to her small bathroom. She was downstairs watching tv, surely she wouldn't find out, as long as I was quick.

Ilocked myself into the small room, sitting down on the closed toilet, the vibrator still buzzing in my grasp.

I took a deep breath, unfastening my pants. She would never know, after all. My reddened and aching cock sprang up, begging to be inside her.

Sadly I'd have to do with just my hand.

The head of my cock brushed over the base of my belly, already dripping with precum. The little whimpers leaving me were loud, my eyes rolling back as I stroked my member.

I took her vibrator, running it up my length. I wasn't prepared for the sensations it would bring, forcing another whine from me.

The buzzing was powerful. I wondered how often she used this thing. I continued to jerk myself off, my other hand pressing the vibrator to my tip.

I quickened my hand, imagining her playing with herself, forcing the vibrator into her tight pussy.

I ran the toy down my balls, shivering as the head of my cock ached with need.

I knew what I wanted. I wanted to fuck my own hand while the vibrator took care of the rest. It felt wicked. Filthy. And so damn good. I rocked my hips, feeling the seat underneath me creak.

I shook with determination, my fist pumping my cock with so much pressure, I thought I might fall to my knees and spill my cum all over. But I didn’t give in yet, I enjoyed it.

I relished in the idea of the very toy that I pressed to my length had been inside her countless times. I could almost picture her creamy juices dripping from her hole as she would dip the toy back inside her gummy walls.

I shuddered at the thought, my dick straining in my hand.

"Dave, are you okay in her-“ the door opened as she leaned inside, her jaw dropping at the sight.

I dropped her vibrator, it still buzzed on the white tile flooring. "I- fuck, I'm sorry," I stammered, by cheeks going hot. She stared as her own vibrator buzzed on the floor, my cock stood straight up and leaking.

Her eyes darted up to mine, then to her toy, and then to my desperate erection. "Why do you have my vibrator?" she asked, her voice slightly panicked.

I couldn't help but notice she was staring at my dick. That's when everything tumbled out. "I- I'm sorry, I found it on accident, and, uh I... I started thinking, um, about you using it, fuck, I just couldn't stop myself." I admitted, squeezing the base of my cock just at the sight of her. I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to tell her that.

She only smirked, watching me as I was so vulnerable, my cock twitching.

She rolled her eyes bending over to pick up the toy and shut it off. "You're too cute, Mustaine." She remarked as I tried to cover my dick.

"Come to bed, I'll show you how you're supposed to use it..." she grinned, stepping out of the bathroom.

I bit my lip, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

Did she really mean what she said?

I sat up quickly, leaving my jeans and boxers on the floor. I looked like an idiot, in my t shirt, my dick standing proud in attention, but I needed her.

She'd just let me watch her play with herself? My cock grew harder at the idea as I quickly made my way out of the bathroom and back into her room.

She was laid back, squirming softly. My heart sped at the sight. She had stripped out of her pants and underwear, her delicate fingers rubbing her clit.

Oh god, I was going to lose my mind. I cleared my throat, as I kneeled onto the bed, my gaze locked on her gorgeous pussy. "Please," she rasped, glancing at me with those big eyes. "Oh God, Dave please." She teased.

I clenched my jaw, my hand finding my cock, pumping myself slowly as I watched her play with herself.

I reached to touch her dripping slit, but she held my hand back. "No touching. Not after you jerked off with my toy," she taunted, grabbing the vibrator. "If you can sit and watch, maybe I'll let you touch," she said softly.

"Oh, God," I groaned, unable to control myself. She bit her lip, her soft hair fanning around her face.

She turned on the vibrator, slowly sliding it past her wetness, she did this all while staring at me.

The power exchange shocked me. She controlled me, controlled her pleasure. I gritted my teeth, pumping myself in time with her touch.

She pressed the toy to her hole, whining as she did so, "ohh, Dave..."

her voice cracked. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, my body tensing. I had to stop. I wouldn't last long like this.

But the look on her face... her beautiful face. As if she was in pain, yet wanting more. I couldn't leave her like this. She was desperate for release. "Fuck, baby," I growled, pumping my cock faster.

She gasped, moving the toy deeper. She wanted it.

She needed it.

I kept my gaze on her, willing her to keep going. "Good girl, cum for me, I'm almost there," I told her, stroking faster.

Her thighs trembled, her hands gripping the sheets as she came, her body arching, her back bowing. "Ohhh!" she screamed, the walls of her pussy contracting. She was beautiful.

"You're gonna make me cum.." I whined.

She smiled at me, giving her breasts a purposeful squeeze.

I couldn't take it anymore. I stroked harder, faster, cumming hard and quick. I groaned, releasing my seed all over her stomach and hips. I kept my eyes locked on her as I enjoyed the final waves of my orgasm.

I shuddered again, looking down at her perfect body, soaked in my cum.

“That’s it, you look so pretty covered in my cum…” I panted, unable to boil my eyes away from her.

"Do you wanna fuck me now?" She asked with a snicker.

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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Apothecary Chapter Eight

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

Samhain is here, and for the first time in a while, she has people to share it with.

word count: 5.2K

warnings | 18+ smut, angst, discussions of grief, spooky-ooky action

a/n | it's here! hands down this has been my favorite chapter to write so far. i would love to hear what you think as always, my inbox is open <3

..............................

Summer has been laid to rest under the whispered chill of fall. The mountains are burned up all orange and yellow, leaves fit to fall in the soon-to-come snap of frost. But for now, as October comes to an end, the days are still tinged with warmth while the nights shiver in the suggestion of the oncoming winter, and Halloween is just around the corner.

Joel had thought it silly, if not downright stupid, when he and Ellie first came to Jackson, all the holidays upheld and celebrated in town. But this year, as the annual fall dance comes closer, he’s hard pressed to be bothered by it with his woman flitting around him, obvious in her excited anticipation.

“Oh, Joel, before you go I have something to give you.”

“This– this is a rusty nail.” She just smiles, curling her fingers under his palm to close his hand over the, quite literally, rusty nail she just gave him.

“Just, humor me, alright? It’s a tradition, for protection. I gave one to Ellie too. Just keep it in your pocket for the next few days.” By now, he’s realized that sometimes it’s easier to just go along with what she tells him, no questions asked, so he nods, pocketing the nail with a smile that he hopes looks grateful. He can also tell that she’s nervous, and he’d bet that it’s because he’s started picking up patrol shifts again, leaving early this morning to meet Tommy at the gate. So if him having an old nail in his pocket is going to make her feel even a little better, he’s happy to oblige her request.

“Thank you, darlin. I’ll see you tonight, ok?” One kiss, a second, and a third, before he finally tears himself away from her, slipping out the front door and into the cool morning air.

“Morning, trouble.”

Mrrp

Stevie is quick to fall into stride alongside him, something he’s still getting used to on the mornings he has patrol, her watchful eyes seeing him out of the gate.

“I see you’ve still got a second shadow following you.” Tommy grins at him as he approaches, eyes glancing down to Stevie who lets out another meow, sitting down rather primly and looking between the two brothers.

“She ain’t–”

“Coming, yeah, you say that everytime, Joel. I’m pretty sure I could figure out that a cat ain’t coming on patrol by myself though.”

Mrrrrp

Tommy gives the cat in question a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised as he looks back up at Joel who can’t help the smug grin tugging at his lips. Tommy lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“Y’all are so fucking weird. Let’s go before the cat starts talking, goddamn.”

…

For the first time in a while, things feel simple, maybe even good. She’s hesitant to let her mind settle on good for fear of jinxing it all, but at the very least, things are really, really not bad. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that Samhain is only a few days away.

It’s the busiest time of year for her, in more ways than one. With the impending chill, more and more people around town are coming down with head colds and whatever else they might pick up in close quarters, a neverending rotation of sniffles and coughs that she’s been tending to while also trying to get ready for the sabbat. While she’s always kept the traditions alive for herself, this year is different, this year she gets to share it with people for the first time in ages, and she might be going just a bit overboard because of it.

Truly, she’s been pulling out all the stops this week. Rosemary and wild rose wreaths for protection through the transition from light to dark, soul cakes for breakfast studded with dried fruit just like her mom would make, and a fresh batch of candles ready to light her altar through the three nights of the pagan new year.

While Joel seems content to let her whirl around him in preparation, Ellie has enthusiastically taken part, listening intently to her explanations of all the rituals and traditions and helping out in the kitchen and in the shop when she can. She can’t help but be reminded of herself as a kid, her mom sharing with her all these things she now gets to share with Ellie.

“So, no bonfire?”

“Sorry, kid, not in this world. It’s just not safe anymore. But we can get the fireplace going and that’ll work just as well.” Though there’s still a slight disappointed slump to her shoulders, Ellie nods, her fingers continuing deft work on another wreath, perched on a stool at the butcher block in the back of the shop.

“You’re getting better at that than me, Ellie. Could I take that one to Maura? I was gonna check in on her this afternoon and I’d like to bring her something.”

“Yeah, for sure. Is she, like, doing ok?” Her own hands still where she had been pruning back some errant leaves, turning to fully look at Ellie with a sigh.

“I think so, yeah. I know Matthew hasn’t given her any more trouble, probably too embarrassed to try. And I think she’s settling in well to her new place.”

“What about Mason?” She swallows the thick heat in her throat at Ellie’s question, schooling her face in something she hopes looks like indifference.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. For a guy who seems to enjoy causing a lot of fucking problems it’s kinda weird how quiet he is all of a sudden.” She knows the truth that Ellie’s words hold all too well, and had been thinking about this herself for a while now. She hadn’t seen or heard from Mason since what happened at the town hall, and to her knowledge, no one else had either, keeping to himself and his shifts. And while she’d like to just forget about him, his bitter words and blatant violence toward her are hard to shake from her mind.

“Let’s just take a win where we can get one, huh, kid? I don’t– don’t even wanna think about that man so long as I don’t have to.” Ellie seems to accept her reply with a slightly distracted hum, holding up the wreath she just finished with a satisfied smirk.

“Fuck yeah. Am I good, or am I good? I mean, c’mon.” It might be silly, but she feels pride unfurling in her chest watching Ellie. No one else has ever been so interested in what she does, and it feels like a relief she didn’t know she was craving to get to share this all with her.

“Pretty damn good, kid. Thanks for helping me out.”

…

He gets back to town spooked, just a little. It isn’t like anything absolutely dire had happened, though it could have turned rotten real quick. He and Tommy had split off early in the day to circle the dam and meet back up somewhere in the middle. It had been a quiet morning, the woods wrapped in a faint mist, leaves falling like rain, when he heard a low, warbling groan from deeper in the trees. It was obvious to him that it wasn’t an infected, the sound had been so different from anything he’d heard before, and he couldn’t help but dismount and inch into the underbrush, trying to catch sight of what had made a noise like that.

A grizzly, that’s what had made the sound, brown fur matted over a hulking body that rose all of eight feet in the air when it stood up on its haunches and snarled at Joel. He was stunned still where he stood by the sight, gun uselessly cocked against an animal that could have killed him in one powerful swipe. And for a moment, it had seemed like that’s exactly what was about to happen, the bear letting out a rumbling roar, jowls warbling with the sound. But then, and it’s going to sound strange, the animal had paused, and had tilted its head at Joel like it was considering him, before slumping back down onto all fours, letting out a snuff that sounded like a conclusion, and trundling right past him further into the thickening forest.

The whole ride back to town, he can’t help but thumb the corroded nail sitting in his jacket pocket, a jilted energy running circuits in his veins. But the hitch in his chest is smoothed out when he does get home, opening the front door to warmth and the smell of food, something savory mingling with the scent of apples cooking. And the sight of her, comfortably moving around the kitchen, something in the oven and a large pot bubbling on the stove, has his heart kicking up in an entirely different way.

“I can feel you staring, Miller.” She glances at him over her shoulder, a crooked smile as she gives the pot a few stirs before turning and padding over to him where he’s leaning against the doorframe, her palm sliding from his chest to curl behind his neck as she leans in for a kiss. He reckons that this won’t ever get old for him, the apparent ease they move with together, how he can reach out and she’ll reach right back. She gives him a quirked look when she pulls away, brows furrowed.

“You alright?” She can clock him like no other. Sometimes it seems like she knows what he’s feeling before he even does, and if she hadn’t insisted that she most definitely can’t read minds, he would have guessed that she could.

“Mmhmm, just tired. Glad to be home.” Though her brows stay just slightly pinched, she seems to accept his excuse, a quick rub of her palm over her chest before she pulls away to check on whatever she has cooking.

“Is Ellie around?”

“At movie night with Dina. They’re playing Hocus Pocus from what I heard.”

“Got enough of that at home, don’t we?” She scoffs, elbowing him lightly where he’s sidled up behind her.

“Rude, and to think I was making you dinner.” She cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, hands finding his on her waist and tangling their fingers together as she scrunches her nose at him. He opens his mouth to say something smart back to her, but his eyes catch on the spoon stirring itself in the pot, drawing her attention back to the stove as well.

“Oops, got a little distracted.” Yeah, he still hasn’t gotten used to her getting distracted.

Dinner is warm and rich and near coma-inducing, both of them sitting back with contented sighs at the dining table, the sun long set, windows going purple and hazy in the glow of the kitchen lights.

“Was Ellie supposed to be home for dinner?” Her brow furrows at his question, head tilted in confusion.

“No, I told you she’s at movie night. Why do you ask?”

“You set an extra place, I just assumed–”

“Oh, no, that’s not– it’s another tradition. You set a place for the people you love who have passed on. Most folks just do it for the three days starting on Halloween. But we always started leaving a plate out a day early, don’t ask me why, it was just the way my mom did it.” It’s clear to him that she’s being careful about what she says, and how she says it. She’s been careful about explaining the holiday, and he can understand why. She had told him that this time of year is marked most by communion with and remembrance of the dead, a subject they’ve been skirting around ever since that night when she tried to talk to him about Sarah, and he bolted like a spooked horse.

“Is that who you set the place for now? Your mom?” Her smile tempers, eyes rounding with a familiar sadness as she nods.

“Yeah, other family too. And I have to admit, I know it’s not my place, but I’ve been thinking about– about Sarah as well.” It’s a leap for her to make, he knows it, and he’s willing to make it with her, reaching his hand across the table to rest over the top of hers, puzzle pieces fitting together in a shared silence.

“Thank you for thinking of her, darlin.” Another nod and a small smile.

“Could I– can I share something with you? And maybe you could help me with it?”

…

“So that’s what all this is for?”

“What’d you think it was for?”

“Honestly, I stopped asking questions about things like this a while ago. Just assumed whatever this was, you had some sort of plan for it.” She has to let out a huff of a laugh at his clearly truthful answer, shaking her head before focusing back on the items spread over the desktop of her bureau.

“Well, I do have a plan, and it’s called an altar. It’s a space made to honor the departed, and to keep them a little closer to us.” She’s already laid out candles, dried leaves, and small wreaths of herbs on the desk, now pulling open one of the bureau’s drawers to get out a worn, weathered photo, tenderly unfolding it. Holding it out so Joel can see, a small sound of recognition rumbles in his chest.

“Is that you?” His finger just hovers over the face of the girl in the photo.

“Mmhmm, and that’s my mom, and my grandmother. I must have been twelve, maybe thirteen, when this was taken.” When she glances at him, something like wonder is laced in his expression, lips parted in a slight smile as he continues to study the picture. Clearing her throat, and her mind, she tucks the photo in amongst the altar before looking at him again.

“It’s nice to include pieces of them, if you have any. I was wondering, um– I mean I don’t know if you’d even want to– but if you have anything of Sarah’s, I was wondering if you’d like to add a piece of her to it?” The words feel thick and clunky coming out, regret an almost instant aftertaste at the way his face falls. But then he surprises her, clearing his throat and nodding before silently unfastening his watch and placing it on the altar, a tap of his fingers to the face of it before he takes a step back.

“And it’s just for the next three days, right?” Worry is pinching his brow, eyes swimming, and she doesn’t resist the urge to reach for him, a hand on his cheek and one right over his heart.

“That’s right. It just lets them know that we’re thinking about them a little more than usual, that’s all. And then we go back to carrying them with us however we can.” He gives her a short nod, tears like silver in his eyes as he rests his hand over hers on his chest, his other palm coming to cup her cheek.

“She would’ve liked you, y’know.” It’s so unexpected, her breath catches in her throat at his words.

“You think so?”

“I think you two would’ve got on like a house on fire. Probably would’ve ganged up on me too, though you and Ellie already do that I suppose.” The warbly sound of her own laugh makes her realize that she’s started crying too, the soft sweep of his thumb brushing away a few stray tears.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but my mom would’ve hated you.” The spluttering laugh he lets out sends her into a huffed spiral of her own, quiet grins between the two of them.

“Would’ve hated me, huh?”

“Mmhmm, nothing personal though. She just believed that women should never get tied down to a man for long.” He hums at that, both of them holding back another laugh through their tears.

“And what do you believe, darlin?”

“I believe that you are the one exception to that rule, Joel Miller.”

…

Seeing as the last town dance he went to ended with him busting his knuckles open on a man’s face, Joel isn’t exactly raring to go to this one. But hers and Ellie’s shared excitement is more than making up for his own disinterest.

“Look, old man, Stevie and I match.” Ellie jumps off the last two steps of the porch, Stevie letting out a distressed mewl from her place in her arms at the sudden movement.

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny.” Ellie’s got on black jeans, a black sweater, and a black headband with two triangular scraps of fabric attached to look like cat ears, cradling Stevie in her arms as the finishing touch to her makeshift costume.

“What’re you supposed to be? A lumberjack with anger issues?” He huffs at her rather sharp question, glancing down at his flannel, the same flannel he wears at least twice a week these days.

“Sure, let’s go with that, kid.”

“You two ready?” Her voice pulls his attention away from Ellie’s smug grin, and when he catches sight of her, his mind goes so hazy he can’t be bothered to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“That hat is fucking wicked.” He doesn’t even have half a mind to scold Ellie for her language, too busy taking in the sight of his woman. She’s wearing the same mismatched sneakers she’s always got on, her bare shins peeking out beneath the hem of her black dress. A very nicely-fitting black dress at that, long-sleeved, with a deep neckline he can’t seem to take his eyes away from. It’s too good, the hat sitting atop her head, the pointed top and the wide brim an almost cartoonish calling-card, and the grin on her face as she stands before him tells him that she knows it too.

“Well?” She holds out her arms, a little flare in her wrists as she looks at him, and all he can do is let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Where the hell did you get a hat like that?” She pinches the brim between her fingers, giving him a wink.

“Found it in the attic of my old house when I first moved in. Been saving it for a special occasion. You like?” He pulls her in for a kiss, all crooked from their mirrored grins.

“Ugh, c’mon, Stevie. Let’s go before they inflict any more damage to our eyeballs.” She pulls away with a laugh at Ellie’s very vocal dismay, taking Joel’s hand in hers with a light squeeze.

“Sorry, kid. No more eyeball damage, I promise. Let’s get a move on.”

Once again, the dining hall has been fitted out for the dance, tables pushed aside to clear the floor and a ragtag band putting out half-decent music. But this time is different too. This time, he’s got an easy arm wrapped around his woman’s waist, holding onto her in a crowd that no longer stares and whispers, but welcomes with easy smiles and talk. Everyone is in some sort of attempted costume, and he catches sight of Tommy making his way toward them through the crowd, an old cowboy hat on his head and a bandana tied around his neck.

“What’re you supposed to be, brother? A slightly less pissed off version of yourself?” While he grunts at his brother’s teasing, she laughs easily, happy to pick up the social slack where Joel refuses to engage.

“Happy Halloween, Tommy. I saw Maria and your boy out front. I can’t believe how big he’s gotten, gonna be quite the little heartbreaker in a few years.” The clear pride in Tommy’s smile sets warmth spreading in Joel’s chest. It’s been a surprising bright spot for him, watching his brother step into fatherhood. Not that he’d ever tell Tommy, but it’s a good look on him.

“He’s something else, ain’t he? Not gonna be able to keep up with him at the rate he’s growing. But anyways, just wanted to come say howdy. Y’all enjoy yourselves, alright?” With a brisk clap to Joel’s shoulder, Tommy is moving back through the crowd, lobbing easy greetings to folks left and right.

“Alright, my angry lumberjack, are you gonna ask me to dance or what?”

“You heard that, huh? Don’t even know how the kid knows what a lumberjack is.” Her smile is easy, humor crinkling her eyes as she looks at him.

“Mmhmm, but for the record, you make a very cute, angry lumberjack.” What he does next surprises even him, taking her hand and leading her into the throng of swaying couples on the dance floor with a confidence he hasn’t felt in decades. The band is playing a slower song, light threadings of a guitar and the old piano, a sweet suggestion to pull her close, one arm hooked around her waist, his other tucked between their chests where their hands are tangled together. Judging by the widening of her eyes, lips parted in a crooked smile, she hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“You’ve been holding out on me if you’ve been able to dance this nicely this whole time, Miller.” He can feel himself going a bit sheepish under her praise, eyes turned down as he leads them in a simple string of steps.

“Haven’t danced in a long time, darlin.” They fall into an easy silence, the music and din of the hall lulling them into the movement. Though everything comes crashing to a jilted stop, music fizzling out under the sudden scuffle in the crowd. It’s instinct, the way his arm tightens around her, keeping her close as he cranes his neck to see where the raised voices are coming from, his stomach dropping when he lays eyes on who it is.

He can’t hear what’s being said, but judging by the steely look on Tommy’s face and the hazy sneer on Mason’s, it’s nothing friendly. And through the crowd, Mason’s bloodshot eyes land on him first, before sliding over to her, a grin smearing across his face that Joel would like nothing more than to smack clean off him. But Tommy is quick to take Mason out of the hall with a harsh grip on his shoulder, gone as soon as he appeared, though the damage has already been done judging by the slack frown on her face.

“Joel, can we go, please?” His chest tightens at the way her voice has flattened, the quiet question slipped from her downturned mouth, eyes stuck where Mason had been standing.

“Yeah, darlin, we’ll go home. Lemme find Ellie and let her know, alright?”

He keeps her hand in his the whole walk home, not letting go until they’re in their bedroom and she’s sitting down on the edge of the bed, a deep furrow between her brows.

“God, I feel so stupid for letting that affect me like I did. I’m sorry, Joel. We were having a good time and I– I ruined it.” He sits down as close to her as he can, tucking her under his arm and dropping a kiss to the top of her head, her hat discarded on the floor.

“Didn’t ruin a thing, darlin. I’m just sorry that pathetic bastard came around at all.” He can tell that she’s working through it in her mind, somewhere between the past and the present, lips slightly pursed and eyes focused on her hands in her lap, but she doesn’t get stuck on it, a long exhale bringing her back to him, tilting her head to look at him with a suggestion of a smile. She doesn’t say anything, slipping out of his hold like liquid and padding quietly over to her bureau where the altar is set up. It’s grace embodied, the way she leans over one of the unlit candles, pursing her lips and exhaling like you would to extinguish a flame, though instead the wick smokes and crackles into a bright blaze.

“Well now you’re just showing off.” A shrug and a laugh from her as she lights the other candles with the one she just lit, the altar being cast in a warm and pulsing glow.

…

Maybe she had been showing off, just a little, drinking in the way his eyes widen and don’t pull away from her for even a second as she turns back to him and extends her hand.

“Would you mind finishing that dance with me?” The light in the bedroom is dim, just a lamp and the candles casting a haze of warmth across the room, but she can still see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stands up and slides his hand into hers.

There’s no music, but they don’t need it, finding an easy sway in their close tangle. She rests her cheek at his shoulder, nose brushing along the juncture of his neck, breathing him in, feeling his hands splayed across her back, the insistent pump of his heart, stronger than anything she’s ever heard before.

“Think you mentioned something a while ago about dancing naked.” She can hear the smug crook of his smile in his words, making her laugh as she pulls back to look at him.

“Hmm, yeah, I just said that to seduce you.” He chuckles at the smarmy waggle of her eyebrows, pulling her tighter against him.

“Didn’t have to do that, darlin. Reckon I was gone for you from day one.” The kiss they slip into is more like a shared sigh, swallowing each other’s relief, muscles slackening under wandering hands. They move with patience, like time has stopped with the slow trails of fingers, the languid press of lips. A shiver runs through her when he tugs the zipper of her dress down, sliding the fabric down her arms, letting it pool around her still socked feet. She wants skin against skin, stepping closer to him as she slips her fingers through the buttons of his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders as soon as she can, leaving his torso warm and bare for her to press against, mouths open and receiving whatever the other is willing to give.

And all of a sudden that tender patience snaps into a snarling desperation, Joel’s hands a searing grip on her hips, keeping her close as he ducks his head down to mouth at the tops of her breasts, only giving her enough space to slip out of her bra before he’s dipping back down and taking one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth, teeth a dizzying graze. They’ve had slow and sweet, and this isn’t that, her back pressing up against one of the bedroom walls as he cages her in, warm and trembling breaths fanning over her skin as she tugs open his belt and rucks his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his flushed cock, resting heavy and heated against her thigh.

When they first came together, it had been all questions, all Can I? Like this? Is that good? Are you? But they no longer need words now, communicating in the hungry sweep of palms and the flicker of darkened eyes. He hitches her knee against his hip, opening her up to him, his cock an aching drag through her cunt before he presses into her, pleasure tinged with the throbbing stretch of him.

Her back slides up the wall with each thrust of his hips, his hand cradling the back of her head to keep her from thumping her skull. It’s all harsh breaths and broken grunts, her eyes scrunching shut only for Joel to coax her gaze back with a gentle let me see you, darlin– look at me, baby, eyes on me, that’s it. He presses his forehead to hers, holding her steady through every hard press of his hips, his cock grazing so deep it’s all she can do to let out a quiet whimper of his name.

“I know, darlin– fuck, I know– always so good, huh? Lemme have it, honey, just like this.” He knows her almost too well by now, when to pull back, to slow down, to draw it out, and when to give her more, to press her over the edge, to twist up her pleasure only to unravel it. His hips still against hers when she comes, a deep grind inside of her that draws out her high, spasming around him as she digs her nails into his shoulders. Slackening in his arms, her mind cuts through the haze, confusion settling in when she realizes he still hasn’t moved, his forehead pressed to her sternum.

“Are you– did you–”

“Fuck, darlin, I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I– Jesus christ.” He pulls out with a shuddering breath, and that’s when she notices it, the warm trickle of him making her knees go weak. Joel, meanwhile, seems to be in perfect remorse, muttering a string of apologies, his hands hovering at her waist like he’s afraid to touch her. Finally, she cuts off his rambling, her palm cupping his jaw to get him to focus on her.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. You seriously think I don’t know how to take care of something like this? Honestly, I’m a little offended.” His face goes completely slack at her words, a disbelieving laugh coming out on a long exhale.

“I– you– goddamn. God fucking damn, think I almost had a heart attack.” His words come out on another laugh, hands framing her face as he lands a hard kiss to her forehead, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“No heart attacks on my watch, Miller. I love you too much to let that happen.” This kiss lands a bit lower, a smacking press of his lips to hers before he pulls away with a sheepish smile.

“Love you, darlin. Let’s, uh, let’s get you cleaned up.”

…

It’s much later in the night when she untangles herself from his embrace, successfully slipping out of bed without waking him. Grabbing the blanket Joel had kicked off in his sleep and wrapping herself up in it, she quietly pads downstairs and out onto the back porch.

“Hey, little miss, did you and Ellie have fun?” Stevie is happy to jump into her lap where she has sat down on the porch steps, a content purr thrumming as she nuzzles against her palm. A moment, that’s all she wanted, to think about the people she’s lost in the cool closeness of the night. But she and Stevie aren’t alone, not anymore. Something like family, something a little magic.

...............................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #apothecary #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic

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thenotsoholyspirit · 5 months

Text

Holding pt 2

(Here for pt 1)

Matt Murdock x reader (angst)

Note: I never expected to do a part 2 for this, but I got inspired re-watching the third season. I hope you guys enjoy it ❤️. Also, a bit of a trigger warning for the mention of the death of a pet.

Summary: What if Matt came back after all that happened, what if things could change.

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

"It was a building, an old abandoned storage. It was a horrible incident indeed. Authorities have yet declared the reasons for its collapse, but apparently, some criminal group is-"

Will the tv anchors let go of that new? It's been more than a month

I sigh as I start to bite the head of the pen in my hand, turning the tv off. I look now directly at the blank screen, only being able to see my own reflection. I look exhausted.

I am exhausted.

It's been weeks since Matt Murdock has been declared dead, more than weeks since I've myself collapsed into some sort of numbness.

It was almost months since I last saw him, yet..

You could've prevented this

I shake my head, trying to get the thought out.

The darkness in the room seems almost too engulfing now. My four walls feeling closer and closer now. I close my eyes

You can not take responsibility for everybody..

I remember my mom telling me this the day my first pet died. It was an accident, the poor bird escaping his cage and getting electrocuted by some some disjointed wires from the utility pole.

Not everything is under your control

I remember his little body dead on the asphalt eyes wide open, looking like he could wake up at any time and take his flight..

Suddenly the noise of the keys opening my door make me stand up. I quickly go grab the old baseball bat hidden under the couch and I go stand besides de doorframe.

Breath

When the person enters I immediately go for a hit, only to be surprised as what appears to be a man easily stops it mid-air making me loose my balance and stumble.

"What th-"

Suddenly he grabs me by my waist preventing me from falling on the floor. Its so dark I can barely perceive his face, yet his voice makes my heart suddenly drop.

"Please..this time I can explain (y/n)"

I immediately pull away from his arms as I go quickly grab my bat again and turn on the lights. I feel my hands weaken their grip as I now recognize the man in front of me. It was Matt. it was actually Matt.

Its you

But I keep my defensive position. Its impossible. This cannot be.

"Who the f- are you". I spat, trying not to let my vulnerability take over.

The supposed Matt stays in place, as I can see him twitching a small smile. He retakes his serious tone

"I know.. I know how this must appear from your side but you must believe me.."

I look at his eyes. Those puppy eyes he used to make when I caught him in trouble. For such a strong man he could be quite sensitive indeed. But I cannot forget neither.

"Even if..if this was true..how..how do you want me to trust you..after all that happened"

He looks down, shame now filling his face. He must have remembered the last time we saw each other. Not the best goodbye indeed. He bites his lip

"I know..I.. I didn't come for forgiveness just..I thought...", He turns his head around, probably scanning the room, "That you deserved to know the truth before you heard it from someone else.."

In the depths of myself, I know all I wish to do is to jump to his arms. It was him. He was alive.

"What exactly happened?"

My voice wasn't as cold as before but I still hold an strict tone, wanting to keep my distance.

He nods his head as he takes a long breath.

"You really want to hear the whole story ?"

"Ive got all night"

So thats how for the next hour he tells me what he seems to know about this Hand. The war. Stick and even the two deaths of his ex. It was a lot I admit, but I still listened with attention to each of his words. We both end up sitting face to face on the floor

"So that's how I ended up here", he finally says raising his shoulders.

I could notice something in his tone. Something more lonely that what used to be in there before. Something more bitter too, but I decide not to comment on that.

"So neither Karen or even Foggy know that you're alive and well ?"

He groans a bit. Probably a touchy subject.

"I'd rather leave it like that... they're safer that way"

I sigh. Some things never truly change

"Then why are you here Matt?"

"I told you.. I-"

"Bullshit"

My raise in tone paralyzes the conversation for a moment. Matt seems surprised and stays silent waiting for me to continue

"Sorry..just", I try my best to hold my emotions, "Last time you were in here..you..you left me Matt..you left me..."

"(Y/n).. sweetheart..I'm"

"Don't you dare call me sweetheart Matthew.." Im now standing up giving my most glaring stare at the man in front of me. "Don't you dare use that word"

Not everything is under my control

"I.." , I look at him again, " I had to mourn you twice..twice.."

Now tears are falling from my eyes. I know he can sense them but I don't want him to comfort me. I have to be strong

"I loved you with all my heart"

These last words are merely a mumble.

The noise of the outside is louder, the cars, the streets, the people. The city being so alive. All of what Matt can hear and perceive, his life. His real life. Not here with me, but outside.

He seems unsure what to say next.

"I never wanted to lose you", I've never heard his voice being this fragile "I just wanted to protect you from all the danger I brought upon you.. I don't want to make excuses just.. I got lost in the way"

He tries to come closer to me, putting his hand on my cheek cleaning my tear

"I'll try to make it up... even if it takes me a whole eternity to do so"

I look at him. Will I be able to ever forgive it all ?

I softly take his hand from my face. Holding it with such strength, like if he was about to vanish again. We stay in this silence for a while. It was a lot of feelings for just one night.

But time is still moving as I look at my kitchen's clock.

"Its getting late, I'd guess you have to go"

He nods letting a sad smile slip.

"Yes I guess so"..

He walks to the door, putting his dark glasses and cap on. He gives me a long stare before going. I wonder what he may be thinking

"Goodbye (y/n)"

"Goodbye Matt"

I see him disappear down the hall.

As I get back in, I think again of my souvenir of the poor bird laying on the ground. Maybe I couldn't bring him back to life, but what if he was given a second chance.

I stare at the door.

Maybe things could have ended differently in that case.

#matt murdock x reader #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x reader angst #daredevil x reader angst #daredevil x reader #marvel x reader

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

Note

Billy and the reader having a fwb relationship but he's not really nice or gentle, more just using her and she finally has enough of it?

I'm a sucker for angst and the way you write Billy cuz it's so realistic.

This is heartbreakingly good. And so long. This takes place after the mall, Billy survived but still has a hint of his toxic masculinity and douchiness lol. Non-canon.

My head tips back against the pillows as a shudder moan rumbles in my chest, the arch in my back relaxing back into his bed as I laugh quietly to myself. His forehead rests on my collarbone, back rising and falling as his arms wrap around my waist, hugging himself to me. My brows pull together in something resembling shock, not used to him lingering for so long after sex. Tentatively, my fingers reach out to brush through the sweaty hair matted to his forehead but he slips away from me, making his way to the edge of the bed as my lips pull down into a frown.

No aftercare. Again.

Clutching the blankets to my chest I sigh sadly, my eyes fluttering shut as he tosses the condom into the trash, pulling on his boxers soon after. I watch him silently as he continue's to just go along with his night as if he didn't call me here at midnight to fuck.

"Can I get a ride home?" I ask, nervous as he throws me an annoyed glance over his shoulder, my heart banging against my chest as he clears his throat.

"How'd you get here?" His question makes me frown deeply, knowing that he would just tell me to go home the same way I came here, that he didn't owe me anything.

"I walked." I scoff, half expecting him to say okay and agree to drive me home but instead he stands, smirking down at me and he reaches out, patting my cheek.

"Well, I know I'm that good in bed but I think your legs work just fine." My lip juts out in a pout as I reach down to grab my dress, slipping it over my head as Billy lights his cigarette, smiling at himself in the mirror.

"Oh, uh, alright." My feet hit the floor and my legs wobble a bit, my post-orgasm bliss brutally ruined by Billy's sour, off-putting attitude. But he's basking in his high, his skin glowing along with his smile.

"Don't sound so disappointed, sweet-cheeks. What did you expect?" He laughs, spinning around to face me as I collect my things, peaking out the window to see rain hitting against the glass.

"Nothing, I expected nothing." I mutter, brushing my fingers through my hair as I make my way towards his door, disappointed by another walk of shame. I should just stop coming to him every time he calls, but the way he looks at me when I first arrive, the neediness behind his beautiful eyes, the way his hands feel against my skin; it makes me feel appreciated. But the minute it's over, the walls come crashing down and I'm disappointed once more.

"Jesus Christ, Y/n, relax." His laugh is bitter as my hand rests on the doorknob, hesitating as he approaches me, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. Bitter tears rise to my eyes as I turn to face him, his brows pulling together briefly in confusion but his cocky expression returns moments later.

"Do you know how fucking mean you are?" I can tell the laugh he releases is forced, his eyes rolling and I fight against the thoughts telling me to slap him across the face.

"Go fuck yourself." He hisses with a smirk but I just drop my things, my bag hitting the floor with a loud thump and he gives me a testing look, his eyes dark and menacing.

"Why do you always do that?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

"Do what?"

"The minute you think you're acting soft, you shut down and immediately start acting like such an asshole!" His eyes roll once more, annoyed at my girlish prying, but there's something about him that finds my attitude amusing, his smirk never fading.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I am an asshole?!" He asks, brows furrowed as he steps up to me, towering over my frame and his eyes flicker over my face.

"No, because I refuse to admit that I was stupid enough to let myself be manipulated by you for months." He looks disgusted at the mention of manipulating me, his smirk finally falling and now is replaced my a stern scowl.

"Manipulated?" He asks slowly, almost as if he didn't hear me right, testing me to see if I'll say it again and hold my ground.

"Yes! You were so fucking nice to me in the beginning and then once I bent over and spread my legs, that went out the fucking window. This, who you are right now, is not what I signed up for." My hands slam against his chest as he takes a sudden step backwards, confused as to where this whole outburst is coming from but, little does he know, it's been coming on for months. "So, I was the dumbass who thought, for one second, maybe you could act human instead of a cold-hearted jackass who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself."

There's a heavy pause in the room, silence consuming us as the cigarette between his fingertips slowly burns out, his attention now directed fully to me. His lips part at my overwhelming confession and my anger, my shoulders pulled back as I wait for his response, ready to fly off the handle again and yell even louder than he could imagine.

"You think I don't care about you?" His voice is surprisingly unsteady but also equally confused, as if he's shocked at the thought of me feeling neglected and uncared for.

"I don't know what the fuck you care about! You never fucking talk to me. All you do is use me, drive me home and not call for days." An offended look passes across his face as I take a step towards him, watching him as his lips part to talk but I barely allow him get a word out.

"I don't-"

"You do! And you don't give a shit. You don't care that you're mean to me, you don't care when you call me names, you don't care when you treat me like I'm some whore and you certainly don't give a shit when I cry." My finger pokes against his chest as his head shakes, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. I can almost hear his thought process, 'why would she cry?', completely none-the-wiser to my complete and utter unhappiness. "Fuck I can't do this anymore. I'm out." I laugh bitterly, taking a step away from him before collecting my things for the second time tonight. Billy's fingers quickly wrap around my upper arm, eyes now wide as he continues to shake his head with a scoff.

"What, no-"

"Find someone else to fuck o-or whatever you think you're doing with me. I can't do it. I can't cry anymore, I can't hold out hope that you'll suddenly change- you're obviously incapable of change." A single tear slips down my cheek as I pull myself from his grasp but he just moves desperately to stand in front of the door, his hands reaching out to rest on my upper arms, forcing me to look at him.

"I'm not- hey, don't go." If I didn't know him so well, I'd think he was pleading, his voice sounding pathetically close to begging as his eyes rake over me. But that isn't Billy's style, he didn't beg. He would ask and when he doesn't get what he wants, he gets angry and shuts down.

"No, because now you're going to act all nice and sweet and pathetic to get me back into bed with you and I'll be hating myself in a week for not leaving sooner." I explain, shaking my head as I reach up to grip at my hair. "If you don't care then neither do I-"

"I want to not care!" He yells, clapping his hands in front of me, my whole body jumping at his outburst. I take a step back immediately at his angry outburst, his face dropping a bit at the sight of my fearful response. He immediately looks apologetic, his eyes softening a bit as his hands drop from my arms. "Alright? Fuck, what do you want me to say? You want to be the girl who changes me, suffers through the hard shit to see the light at the end of the goddamn tunnel- there is no light." He whispers, walking towards me but I just continue to back up until my legs hit the edge of his bed, angry tears filling my eyes.

"Then let me leave." The words come out slowly as if I'm talking to a child, his head immediately shaking as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me, the movement seeming so small but it's a big deal. He never lowers himself, physically or in an emotional sense, beneath me, never. It's seen as submissive and obedient to him, two things that Billy is not.

"No." He whispers simply, his face stone-cold serious, no ounce of cockiness left in his expression or tone.

"Then give me an actual reason to stay." I plead, reaching up to wipe the tears streaming down my cheeks. I'm can't be sad, no not at all, but the frustration of months of wanting to just yell at him and tell him to open up to me just seems to pile up on my shoulders all at once, wanting nothing more than to topple me. "If you can't say one thoughtful thing and show me that you're apparently capable of change, then I'm leaving and you'll never see me again." He's on his feet in a seconds notice, fists clenching at his sides as he shifts his weight between his feet. With a forced exhale, he sits down beside me, resting his head in his hands.

"I- fuck." He mutters, hair falling down and framing his face as I force myself to not to reach out and rub his back. I'm the one who needs comfort, not him. "Just don't go. I'll come up with something." He turns his head to look at me, biting at his lip as he sighs. My leg bounces anxiously and I wait for him to come up with something, hoping and praying that it's worth my time and energy. "I don't talk to people- you want me to fucking talk and soften but it's just not my style." He laughs, sitting up as I turn in my spot, facing him completely.

"Then what is? Because, please, for gods sake, give me a way to communicate with you." I chuckle, his brows perking up a bit at the positive emotion coming from me, expecting me only to be angry and upset with him from here on in.

I think that he thinks that once someones mad at him and it takes a negative turn, that they're just going to stay mad. So, if he responds with more anger before the other person can, he's preventing himself from getting hurt.

But at the sound of my relaxed laugh, he cools down a bit, the defensiveness that was there previously now fading completely. Knowing him, that could turn at the drop of a hat. He looks away from me, his hand rubbing over his jaw as he stutters a bit, trying to articulate the words on the tip of his tongue

"I like having sex with you." He says, serious as can be but it draws a laugh out of me.

"I'm well aware." I point to the marks on his shoulders, his chin craning to look at the crescent shaped nail marks on his skin. He chuckles lightly, the tension in the room diminishing a bit and he shakes his head with a soft smile.

"No, I..." He pauses, fiddling with his fingers as a he forces a cringed smile. "I feel happy, I guess, when I'm close to you." It almost looks as if it's paining him to say that, especially the word happy, his eyes closing as his cheeks redden a bit in embarrassment.

"Oh." It's all I can manage to say, my lips parted as he avoids my soft gaze. "You're allowed to say that. It's not like I'll get the wrong idea." I laugh incredulously, scooting a bit towards him as his brows raise, looking at me with a deadpanned look.

"You will. You'll suddenly start to think that I'm boyfriend material and I'm not."

"Why not?" I ask but he just rolls his eyes. "I mean, you've been nothing but a douche to me and I'm still here."

"That's not an accomplishment, sweetheart." I ignore the butterflies in my stomach the best I can as I allow him to go on, knowing in my heart that I would never be able to convince him otherwise, he's already so stuck in his ways and views of himself. "The men in my family aren't meant for relationships." I'm well aware that his words have a deeper weight to them. I know that's a dig at his dad, the tightness of his jaw and the sudden flash of anger that passes across his expression is a dead give away.

"Fuck that." I whisper, capturing his attention as his anger suddenly returns as quickly as it left.

"Fuck you."

"No, Billy, that's such bullshit." My voice is louder than his and way more steady, his eyes widening a bit as I match his energy, not backing down. "I know you're dads a piece of shit, I see the bruises and I see the look you give Max every time that she's a little bit late. You get blamed and punished for it all the time." He already knows everything I'm saying is true, but maybe he never realized I noticed or even paid attention to him that much. His face reddens at the mention of the abuse he suffers at the hand of his father, his words coming out gritted and cautious.

"Shut up."

"No." A smirk spreads across my lips as I continue to poke the bear, hoping that it'll get me somewhere and he'll end up accidentally, angrily, lashing out and revealing something. "You're becoming more like your dad the more you try not to." It's as if a switch flips in him, his fingers gripping at the blanket beneath him as he looks me dead in the eyes.

"Shut up!" He shouts but I laugh, shaking my head with a nonchalant shrug. If looks could kill, I would be six feet under right now but he knows better than to ever raise a hand on me, especially if he already doesn't want me to leave. He had seen his father and Max's mother and something tells me that he doesn't want it to ever go that far. That it terrifies him to think that he's capable of that.

"I'm right."

"I know!" His voice cracks as his chest deflates, head falling back into his hands as he groans. "Fuck, you piss me off." A proud grin spreads over my lips as I chuckle, clapping my hands and snapping him out of his angry bubble.

"There we go! Alright, I piss you off, what else?" He watches me, confused, as I make my way to my feet, placing my hands on his shoulders as I slide myself down onto his lap. He looks genuinely shocked at the sudden movement but doesn't push me away, his brows pulled together. "Go on, tell me. How do I make you feel?" I want him to get angry, to insult me, anything; only if it meant that we could get somewhere and get him to explain how he feels.

"You annoy the shit out of me." He whispers, jaw gritting but his anger doesn't reach his eyes. His eyes are soft as his gaze flickers between my eyes and my lips. A naughty grin takes over my face, my fingers playing with the necklace that sits against his collarbones.

"You don't feel that way when you're inside of me." He snorts at my observation, nodding his head as he allows himself to relax a bit, his arms wrapping protectively around my waist to keep me seated on his lap.

"Fuck off." He whispers, hair falling in his face and I'm quick to brush the curls away, my fingertips brushing against the soft skin of his forehead.

"What else?" I ask, encouraging him to continue sharing, even if it's negative. He just takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly with a small scowl on his lips, his eyes now avoiding mine.

"You make me laugh." He mutters almost in a groan, hating himself for actually admitting it. When he looks back up at me, I can only imagine his annoyance increases at the sight of my happy, shit eating grin. "Sometimes- don't push your luck." He warns with a laugh, hands gripping my waist.

"I'm listening." I whisper, wanting nothing more than to hear him go on, to have a positive interaction outside of sex. The only time he's ever been sweet to me, kind and soft, has been during sex, right at the end. A soft smile taking over his features, a tired look on his face as he allows himself to relax into me; it's always been my favorite Billy.

"Stop looking at me like that." His voice catches me off guard, forcing me from my thoughts as I tilt my head curiously at him.

"Like what?"

"Like you need me." He sounds sad, his lips tugged down in a soft frown. "In a not sexual way."

"What if I do?" My words sound foreign to me, rolling off of my tongue before I can even stop it. Of course I wanted him, I wanted him in every way before we even started hooking up. I would've never been able to tell him that had I not hauled off on him in anger tonight, never having the courage to actually stand up for myself and come clean about my vague feelings for him. "Would that be so bad?" My question is genuine, watching him with patience as he ponders for a few quiet moments.

"You think I'm that capable of change?"

My lips part gently at his question, only expecting him to tell me to fuck off again or insult me but instead I'm confronted with sincerity. He looks timid, jaw clenching on and off as he gulps, looking up at me after a few moments.

"After Max almost took your balls off, you've been way more agreeable to her. Hell, you apologized to her when you were in the sauna and-"

"You were there?" He interrupts, his body suddenly tensing beneath me as I scoff a bit in shock. My hands slide down from his shoulders and down to rest on his bare chest, rubbing circles into the tense muscles.

"Course I was." It never crossed my mind that he wasn't aware while he was taken over by the mind flayer but by the confused look on his face, I can tell that he's going to need further explanation in the future. For now, I continue. "I think if you were willing to change your behavior for her then yeah, I think you're capable of change."

"But she threatened me." He laughs, embarrassed as he recalls the time he almost got a baseball bat to the balls in front of Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. His forehead rests against my collarbones and his hairs tickle my skin, a soft laugh leaving me as I rake my fingers through his hair.

"So did I. What's worse, losing your balls or losing me?"

"Don't make me answer that." He chuckles, looking up at me with kind eyes, the first time I've ever really seen them without him immediately insulting me or pushing me away.

Maybe I am getting somewhere.

"It's alright, I already know the answer." I chuckle, scooting further onto his lap as he laughs and he doesn't shy away from holding me, just pulling me even tighter to his chest. "How old were you when your mom left?" He blinks at me a few times at the sudden invasive question, his lips parting as he forces a laugh.

"This is not a therapy session." He whispers, leaning up to try to capture my lips in a kiss, distracting me from a topic that he doesn't want to talk about but I just turn my head.

"How old?" I ask again, lips pressing against his cheek as he huffs.

"Young- younger than Max is." He forces out quickly, shaking his head as his eyes tear away from me. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Okay." He looks surprised at my agreeable nature, confused as to why I didn't try to pry even more, especially knowing me. But there's hope in the back of my head that if I don't push him, that he'll open up on his own, without me needing to pry. "Do you think that by pushing everyone away that you're protecting yourself? That if you push everyone away before they leave, you'll be okay?" His body freezes against me, his forehead dropping once more to rest on my shoulder, his back rising and falling in anxious breaths. It's as if I've uncovered this great secret that I've already been well aware of since I've known him.

"That's fucking stupid." He mutters, fists clenching against my sides as he continues to just stay hidden in the crook of my neck.

"It makes sense." His ears perk up at my validating words, his weight falling into me as he allows himself one moment, just one second of softness and peace. "And you almost died- I watched you almost die. You've been through a lot and lost a lot, Billy." Assuming he doesn't know that I was there that night at the mall, I don't explain any further, not wanting to bring up any negative memories that might be haunting him already.

"I don't really remember it." He mumbles against me, shaking his head as a shiver runs down his spine. "I don't want to." My heart aches at the shakiness of his voice, his shoulders rolling anxiously as he continues. "I really don't want to be cruel to you. I just don't want to talk sometimes, so I yell and I get so fucking angry." He pulls back, his eyes dipping lower than mine as I bite back a smile, knowing wholeheartedly that I broke through to him in some way or another.

"Then tell me that." He nods quickly, reaching up to rub his eyes tiredly as he falls back into the bed, tugging me with him, capturing my lips in a timid kiss. I smile against him, my hand instinctively cupping his cheeks as he leans over me.

"I don't want to talk anymore." He mutters against me, trailing kisses down my chin, pressing his lips in a sweet kiss to my shoulder before tucking into me, his nose brushing against my neck as I blow out a relieved breath, hoping to be able to move on from tonight in a positive way.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr

#billy #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic

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kasdan · 6 months

Text

𝐸𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝐹𝑢𝑟𝑦 {𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 9}

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a/n: so sorry for the delay in this chapter the time has just flown by me and before i knew november was over like damn halloween was just yesterday chill. anyhoo i hope you enjoy the chapter lovelies<33

Summary: frank gets settled into the motel and you wait for him to get better as things start to heat up between the two of you before settling as quickly as it starts

Pairing: frank castle x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, frank needs a hug, was quite literally twirling my hair and kicking my feet writing this

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter song: this side of paradise - coyote theory

The room grows quiet after Curtis leaves. My gaze focuses on Frank’s body on the bed, and I can’t bring myself to look away from him. Curtis said that he would be alright, and I believe him, but there’s still a part of me that’s worried sick, and I can’t understand why I’m panicking this much over someone who I’ve only known for a couple of weeks.

David leaves a little bit after Curtis, claiming he has to get something back at his place. I try questioning him on if we’d be safe here, not knowing if I was tracked here from the house, but he insists that we’ll be fine as long as I try not to use much of my powers while he’s gone.

I don’t get much more in before he’s leaving, and I’m left alone with the still unconscious man in the bed across from me. I find myself staring at the rise and fall of Frank’s chest again, making sure it’s steady and doesn’t stop.

There’s a slight panic feeling in my chest on what I would do if he stops breathing, but I have to tell myself that he’s going to be fine, and it won’t come to that.

I sigh and fall back on the bed, not being able to bring myself to do much else. I lay on my side, still able to see Frank from my position. It’s not long before I feel my eyes drifting shut, the events of the night finally taking its toll on me.

I try my best to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss if something starts to happen to Frank, but my body says otherwise, soon falling into a world of darkness.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” I look at the green-eyed girl in front of me, who’s currently trying her best to make the piece of plastic she has as sharp as she can.

“We can’t live like this, you’ve never even been outside. Don’t you ever wonder what life outside this building is?” I admit that I’ve wanted to know what the outside was like ever since the girl came in and started raving about it. I just don’t think this plan is the best thing we could do.

The click of the door sounds, and she quickly shoos me away to the other side of the room and hides the sharp object behind her. A guard comes in with food trays and drops one in front of me before going over to the other girl in the room to drop another tray in front of her.

He turns to walk away, however before he can get out of the room, the smaller girl is jumping on his back and reaching her short arms around his neck, jabbing the sharp object into his skin.

The guard jerks his body around, attempting to throw the small person off of him as his neck starts to bleed. I jump up and as quietly as I can, and I walk towards him, reaching for the key badge he wears on his belt.

I get a grasp on it before a hand harshly grips mine. I let out a sharp cry when I feel something in my wrist pop and look up to see the guard sneering down at me.

He manages to get the girl off his back, slamming her into the wall so she falls to the ground at the impact. I have no chance to try and check on her before more guards rush into the room and I’m dragged out into the hallway.

“NO, LET ME GO! ELLIE!” I start screaming as I’m picked up and carried down the hall. I can see three other guards around Ellie, dragging her in the opposite direction of the hallway I was going in. She isn’t moving and I find myself thrashing around in the grip of the guard holding me trying to get to her, but it’s no use and I watch her get dragged out of sight, not knowing it’s the last time I’ll ever get to see her.

I find myself jerking awake, the memory fading away in my brain. It takes me a minute to remember where I am, looking over at Frank’s body and expecting him to still be asleep, but I am surprised when I find his eyes looking back at me.

“You’re awake.” I find myself jumping up off the bed to his side. “How do you feel?” I sit down next to him on the bed, observing him to see if there are any immediate worries.

He doesn’t say anything, instead bringing his hand up to swipe his thumb across my cheek. I’m taken aback, and I realize that there were tears that fell down my face while I was sleeping.

I turn my head down to look down at my knee, his hand sliding off my cheek to fall to his side. I take my hand to rub the other side of my face to get rid of any other tears.

“Don’t.” Frank’s hand comes back to grip my chin, and I turn my head back towards him until I’m looking into his eyes.

“Don’t what?” My voice comes out just above a whisper as Frank lets his hand rest on my cheek again.

“Hide from me.” His voice is gruff, and he goes to talk more but ends up in a coughing fit. I quickly reach for the cup of water Curtis left on the nightstand next to the bed for this situation and hold it up to his mouth so he can take a sip. “Thanks.” I place the cup back down on the nightstand and go to sit down on the bed I was once asleep on before I feel a grip on my wrist, stopping me.

I turn my body around to see Frank’s hand around my wrist, pulling me back towards the bed he’s on. There’s something in me that’s hesitant to sit that close to him again, and I don’t know why. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I make up the first excuse that comes to mind: not wanting to be this close to him when I can feel my hands start to shake and my heart start to beat faster in my chest.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” He insists, and I have no choice but to sit down next to him. My gaze falls to my lap again, and I start messing with my fingers, not knowing what else to do. “Hey,” he says, placing one of his hands in mine to stop their movement, and I raise my head to meet his eyes. “You okay?” I swallow hard and can only nod at him, not trusting my voice in the moment.

Silence takes over the room for a minute before I clear my throat. “I should be asking you that question.” Frank lets out a chuckle at my statement, taking his hand off of mine, and it takes all of my restraint to not reach for him to keep it there.

“‘M fine; don’t worry bout me.” It’s not so convincing when he lets out a grunt, trying to get his body to sit up against the headboard. I go to stop him from moving any further, but he just shakes his head at me and pushes himself all the way up.

He’s out of breath by the time he’s lifted himself up, and I find myself looking at him in worry, causing him to give me a short smile as if telling me not to worry.

“How’d I get here?” He looks around the room as he talks, taking in the unfamiliar scenery.

“I drove you.” His head stops looking around to suddenly look back at me as if I have two heads. And then he starts laughing.

“You,” he pauses between laughs. “You drove me?” He laughs until he suddenly cringes and holds his side, forcing him to calm down.

“It’s not funny; I thought you were going to die.” Once he’s calmed down, his gaze softens at me.

“‘M sorry, darlin', it just caught me off guard. Wasn’t expectin’ you to be able to drive me outta there. ‘M proud of you.” He grabs my hand while he’s speaking, gripping it softly, and it doesn’t help my pounding heart in the slightest.

My mind isn’t working; I want to say something, but no words come out, and if they do, I feel they wouldn’t make any sense. I open my mouth to try and say something before my eyes glance over Frank’s torso, seeing the shirt he’s wearing start to turn crimson.

“You’re bleeding.” My body reacts on its own, immediately getting closer to him in order to check it. He tries to push me off and wave it off like he’s fine, but I’m not having it.

I lift his shirt to find the wrap Curtis put on him getting soaked through with blood, and I’m immediately reaching for the container that was left behind for this exact reason. Before he left, Curtis showed me what to use to replace his bandage with when he needed it, but I figured that David would be the one to handle it if it got to that point. There’s no sign of David coming back anytime soon, so I’ll just have to do my best to change them myself. This somehow makes my hands shake even more than they were before.

“I can do that—” Frank reaches out to grab the wrap from my hands, but I shake my head and pull it out of his reach before he can get a hold of it.

“I can do it.” I insist, starting to unravel the now-red old wrap from his abdomen, apologizing when I hear him wince slightly at my movement.

I throw the old cloth into the garbage by the bed and prepare to put the clean one on, but I have to first wipe off the excess blood around the wound. I go to fill up the small bowl left by the sink in the corner of the room, bringing it back by Frank’s side to start cleaning up the wound.

I glance up to find Frank’s gaze on me, looking deep in thought. “What? Are you okay?” I go to pull away from his body before he quickly shakes his head, reaching for my arm to keep me there.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I can tell his mind is somewhere else as he speaks, his gaze drifting away from mine.

"What's wrong?" He swallows and turns his head back up to look at me with the most intensity I've seen in him. His hand finds its way back to my cheek, fingers grazing it gently, and I instinctively feel my head turning to keep his hand pressed there.

"I'm afraid." He just about whispers, and I have to comprehend if he actually said anything, but the way his eyes are piercing into mine, I know he did. I open my mouth to question him, but his thumb runs across the bottom of my lip, causing me to forget what I was about to say. "Of gettin' too close—wantin' to get closer." He lets out a soft chuckle while shaking his head, and I can't help but just sit there, wanting to know what else he's going to say.

"To tell ya the truth, you scare me." I can feel my face drop at his words, and I go to pull away from him, my head going to face the ground again, but before I can do anything, he shakes his head, keeping my head up to face him. "Lemme finish."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again to look back at me. "The feeling I get when I'm with you—it scares the hell outta me." He doesn't say anything else, instead grabbing one of my hands and placing it on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat pounding, my own's rhythm not being far off from his.

His hand lets go of my wrist, but I find myself keeping my hand on him, not wanting to remove it from him just yet. Our eyes lock, and I have no idea how long we're sitting there for. Time seems to move in slow motion, and I can feel him pushing forward towards me, causing my arm to move backwards towards my own body.

Curiosity fills my features when my arm is the only thing separating our bodies—not pressed as harshly against it as it once was, but now just simply staying there. I can see the questioning look in his eyes as if he's debating something, but he ends up shaking his head and leaning his body back on the bed, turning his head to look at the wall.

"Frank-"

"'M sorry." Our voices are barely audible, and I'm not sure what just happened or what's exactly going on in Frank's head, but I figure it's for the best that I leave it be for now. Instead, I work on putting the clean wrap on his wound in silence.

@sleeperthelazy @hathay @lunaticgurly @casa-boiardi @mattmurdocksstarlight @stilldreaming666 @cherry-berry-ollie

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#embers fury #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #frank castle series #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher #jon bernthal #slow burn #marvel #Spotify

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red-pill-blue-pill · 2 years

Text

Never have I ever (drabble)

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Summary: just a tiny cutesy drabble. My fav trope: friends to lovers.

Warnings: fluffy fluff.

Word count: 1500

A/N: I'm rusty af and I had no inspiration whatsoever but I've been wanting to write Javi for some time so here you are. Proofread but you know how that goes. Hope you like it!

“C’mon just tell me!” he threw at you the cushion he had carefully tucked under his head at the beginning of the night. It hit you square in the face and you huffed.

“I don’t want to, it’s embarrassing!” you said throwing the cushion back at him. He caught it midair and smiled triumphantly at you.

You were laying on his couch opposite of each other. His arm rested over your legs as he held his half empty glass of whiskey. You had been playing never have I ever for the last half hour and since you basically knew everything about each other the questions were getting weirder by the second.

Never have I ever puked while getting laid.

“That’s the whole point of this game, silly! C’mon I promise I won’t laugh.” He patted your leg encouragingly as he shamelessly lied. You knew Javi and there was no way in hell he would miss the opportunity to have a good laugh at your expense.

You sighed while placing the glass on the coffee table and propped yourself back on your elbows. “Okay, this was a long time ago...” he smiled reassuringly, urging you to continue. “I was getting down to business with my date after prom. As you can imagine I was absolutely wasted, it was prom after all. Anyway, I was about to go down on him so I pulled his pants down and… oh God…” blush started to creep up your face.

“I don’t really know when was the last time he had showered, cause I’m telling you, that wasn’t normal.” his eyes widened and he covered his mouth trying to stifle a laugh. You narrowed your eyes at him “it reeked! and I just… I couldn’t stop myself and I puked all over him.” you managed to pull a small smile trying to hide your embarrassment. It was stupid, really. Javier knew everything about you, he had to endure your hour long rants after shitty hookups so it wasn’t like you shied away from talking about sex. This time, however, it felt completely different.

He stared at you in shock. “You puked all over him?”

Your smile widened out of pure nervousness and you nodded “I puked all over him.”

He couldn’t help the cackle that bursted through his mouth. He grabbed his sides while letting a laughing fit take control of his body.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” you said grabbing at his legs and tickling him, unable to stop the smile spreading on your own face. “¡Malo!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he said wiping the few tears that had fell down his face. “Dios mío, it's the most embarrassing story I’ve ever heard. What did you do after?”

“He screamed at me and I got the hell out of there.” you shrugged. “I guess I was a bit of an asshole.”

“He was the asshole! should’ve showered before prom.” he laughed reassuringly at you. “His loss really.”

You chuckled in agreement and stared silently at him while he reached for the whiskey bottle to refill your glass. The domesticity of it all filled your heart. You really loved him. It was difficult not to fall for Javier and, despite being almost sure he didn’t see you as anything more than his best friend, it was impossible for you to stay away from him. For you, in a sense, he was home. You cherished the fact that he had let you in, let you witness the warmth he carried inside, shown you that he was capable of softness after all. It was a privilege only you and Steve had and there was no way in hell you were giving that up.

"Penny for your thoughts." He said sipping on his whiskey, clearly noticing the fact that you were blatantly staring at him. His hand came to rest on your ankle, drawing small circles with his thumb. Fuck Javi and his constant need of physical contact.

Your eyes snapped to his, so deep and dark you felt shy all of a sudden under his questioning stare and for a split second you feared he was able to read your mind. You reached for your glass and took a big gulp, hoping alcohol would inspire a better answer other than “nothing”.

"Oh, I was- I mean…” blush returned to your cheeks and he smiled softly at you. That damn dimple. You sighed before blurting. “I was just thinking about you.” Your voice came out small, shy, and you hoped he hadn’t heard you.

But he did, of course he did, and he hummed as he started running his hand up and down your calf. “and what about me, cariño.” His smile seemed cheeky but you could see the fondness in it. The pressure on your chest was getting unbearable, his deep stare combined with his touch was setting your skin on fire and you could hear you heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You shouldn’t have said anything.

Your fight or flight instincts kicked in.

Flight, definitely flight.

You stood up, letting his hand fall onto the couch, and downed the rest of the glass. “About how stinky you are.” you scrunched your nose. “It’s gettin’ late so I think I’m gonna get going.”

You tried to ignore his confused stare as he sat up and watched you place your glass on the sink. “Are you okay? Weren’t you staying the night?” he made his way to the kitchen and stopped at the door frame, stepping aside to let you exit.

“Yeah Javi, don’t worry. It’s just– I don’t feel well” you said as you walked past him, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Well done, not suspicious at all.

“Listen, if this is about the story, I’m sorry for pressuring you to tell me. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His hands were now on his hips as he watched you put your shoes on, clearly not convinced by your excuses.

“I’m feeling a bit funny, that’s all” you smiled weakly at him “I’ll make myself some tea when I get home, see if it calms my tummy.” Why did he have to be so fucking insistent.

He reached to grab your arm softly, giving you the possibility to let go if you wanted, but you didn’t. “You and I both know lying is not one of your strengths.” he chuckled but his eyes remained serious. “What’s going on, cielo. You can tell me.”

Fuck him and his stupid pet names.

There was no way you could lie your way out of this one. The prospect of fucking this friendship up and not having Javier in your life was completely paralyzing. It was something you couldn’t afford to lose. Not now, not ever. Still, you couldn't keep running away from reality. This was something that was meant to happen sooner or later.

In a surge of courage you looked up at him and met his eyes, your face still tinted with a reddish hue. The tenderness that swirled in his gaze knocked the air out your lungs. His hand travelled upwards until he cupped the side of your face, gently gracing your cheekbone with his thumb. He knew, he fucking knew. His stupid grin, the expectation in his eyes. Maybe he really could read your mind, or maybe it turns out you weren't as subtle as you thought and it had been written on your face all along. He inched closer and whispered “I just want to hear you say it.”

You hesitated, the thought of him messing with you crossed your mind for a second but you quickly pushed it away.

“I– I think I’m in love with you.” you gulped as his eyes studied your face with adoration.

“You think?” he smiled cheekily. His breath ghosted over your face. “C’mon cariño, I’m gonna need more than that.”

You huffed and shook your head in disbelief. Anxiety had died down by now, the only remnants were the butterflies that swirled violently in your stomach. “You’re a pain in the ass, Javier, you know that?” a big smile spread on your face.

He laughed and whispered “I know, you tell me often.” his brow furrowed “Quite often actually…”

“Shut up." you placed your hands on his chest and felt his heartbeat thumping wildly against your palms. "I’m in love with you.”

He looked up and mumbled “gracias a Dios” before pressing his lips to yours. It was soft, almost shy, so unlike Javier’s general confident demeanor. Before he could pull away you grabbed the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips against his again, hoping he would stop holding back. The kiss was sloppy this time. He lapped hungrily at your mouth, swallowing your whimpers as you clung to his shoulders. His teeth bit and sucked briefly on your bottom lip before pulling away.

"Fucking finally" he said as he leaned his forehead against yours trying to catch his breath. "I love you too. I've been loving you for a long time now I just didn't want to ruin whatever we had going on."

Your heart swelled at his words, a small chuckle escaping your mouth. "Well, thank god you got me to confess then.”

He smiled and slid his hands down your body, resting them on the curve of your ass and giving it a playful squeeze. "So... does this mean you’ll stay the night?"

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña angst #javier peña fluff #javier peña x y/n #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena

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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

Note

💜: au’s you’d like to see from me and with which character

A short fake dating AU with mean!Bucky (maybe add a little dark seasoning here and there 👀)

A drabble is just fine with this!!

I.O.U

pairing: dark!bucky x reader

warnings: blackmail. allusion to sex. definitely dubcon.

words: 1.6k

notes: love this idea! i wrote this in a car and forgot to save it after making some changes i thought made it better but they’re gone and i didn’t remember all of them 😭 so i tried but definitely don’t think i did it justice. also this is my attempt at something short 💀… might write something else with this au in the future bc it has so much potential- anyway! here’s this lol thank you so much @mellifluous-honey for sending this in 🖤

“God, you’re such a dick,” you said in a huff, annoyance lacing your voice as you examined the deep red evening gown he had hanging for you. The neckline was plunging and the fit of the waist was sure to highlight your figure. It was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny that, but maybe a little too sexy for the event you were going to. On top of that, Bucky’s snide remarks from the moment you showed up, in regards to your dress - the one you bought specifically for tonight and were actually really excited about, were really pissing you off. You could feel him staring at you as you stared at the dress, finally removing it from the hanger and turning around to face him as you both stood in his bedroom.

Bucky was always gruff with you and always annoyed about something when it came to you, so you were still confused as to why he was insisting you go as his fake date to this thing. “Just a reminder, I’m doing you the favor here, not the other way around.”

“You’re doing me a favor? No, you owe me. Now stop complaining and fucking listen,” he snarled.

“I said I’d be your date, not your dress up doll. If you wanted someone to hang off of your arm all night looking pretty, you really could have just paid someone. Seems like a wasted opportunity using this iou for a date, of all things. And a waste of my talents, too. I mean, there’s so many things you could get me to do for you with this hanging over my head.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said lowly, seemingly speaking to himself, though you certainly heard him. Before you could question what he meant, he continued, louder this time.

“I’m giving you five minutes and if you don’t have that dress on, I’m gonna put it on for you.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, though started to relent.

“You actually might have to help me - there’s no way in hell I’m getting in this by myself.”

Bucky was behind you in a second, pulling down the zipper of the dress you arrived to his apartment in without another word.

“Wow, excuse you!” you yelped in surprise, holding the bust of the dress flush against your chest as it threatened to fall with his tugging.

“I’m not showing up late to this stupid gala and giving Stark any more ammunition to use against me than he already has.”

“I don’t understand why you care so much what he thinks, anyway,”

“No, you don’t understand, and you never will,” he snapped as he spun you around so you were face to face with him, his dark eyes burning down at you.

“Let it drop,” he said gravely, gaze lowering to the loose material of your gown you were still clutching.

You felt yourself get hot, breath catching in your throat as he stared at you with a look you hadn’t seen from him before. Almost hungry.

“Now,” he growled.

At that, you let the dress fall down your body, standing before him in nothing but your shape wear, every curve you had being hugged perfectly, your figure on full display.

“Good, you can follow directions. Keep doing that,” he stated. “You don’t wanna make this night any harder on yourself than it has to be,” he cooed with a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he took a step closer to you.

“Step into it.”

You bit your tongue, turned around, and listened while he secured the elaborately designed back of the dress, leaving your previous gown in a crumpled pile on the floor. You felt him staring as his hands smoothed down your waist, hips and finally around your ass. “Perfect,” he said under his breath, again seemingly talking to himself.

You didn’t know what to say or do. You weren’t sure if you should feel threatened or turned on by his actions and menacing tone.. and the glint of lust you swore you had seen in his eyes.

“Let’s get going, doll. You make me late and that’s just another thing you’re gonna have to make up for.”

It was both, you realized. Definitely both.

Later that night found you stuck to Bucky’s side as if you were being bound to him by some unforeseen force. Not that anyone could tell, though. You were all smiles and laughs during the boring conversations and meetings of people you couldn’t have cared less about. You hated these things - never showed up when you didn’t have to, yet here you were.

Tuning out the droning voices from the conversation Bucky was taking part in at the moment with Sam and some other people you vaguely recognized from some of the news organizations and publications, you almost missed it when one of them asked, “So, how long have you two been dating?”

You looked to Bucky, mouth open and ready to correct them, but he didn’t even glance back as he spoke in response, not missing a beat.

“Just a couple weeks now,” he said with a classic smile, almost a smirk, as you looked up at him confused for a moment before you felt him squeezing, more accurately, pinching your waist. You forced a smile and accepted the other man’s compliment on how lovely of a couple you made. Sam eyed the both of you, but didn’t seem to really question the validity of your apparent new relationship.

“I knew there was something going on between the two of you,” he started. “Congratulations,” he grinned, clinking his glass with Bucky’s then your own before walking away to mingle with some of the other guests, working to get these people on the Avenger’s side again. That’s what the main point of tonight was anyway, staying in the good graces of the people. Especially after the shitshow of a mission you guys were fucked on just a few weeks prior. Luckily, though, attention on you and Bucky was minimal.

Alone again, you needed to figure out what story Bucky was telling to people and why he didn’t think to loop you in.

“A couple weeks?” you intoned.

“Call it courting.”

“Okay, what’s going on, Bucky? I’m your date, but we’re not dating. You can’t just tell people that. I thought this was a one time thing,” you were stunned into stopping your rant as Bucky, with his ever tight hold on you, led you out of the main room through the back door, nearly dragging you down one of the unlit, closed off hallways in the level of the tower you currently found yourselves on. He turned on you and you pressed yourself against the wall behind you as he invaded your space. You were feeling cornered and scared. And god help you, a little turned on, too.

“I saved your ass from being killed and then again from being kicked off the team because you refuse to listen to simple directions. I covered for you, lied for you, and I’ve put myself on the line for you repeatedly. You owe me more than just a date to a gala, sweetheart. So this is over when I decide it’s over.” He said menacingly as his face got ever closer to yours.

“And it’s far from over,” he breathed in your ear before his lips ghosted the delicate skin of your neck. Your lips parted as you gasped and your body refused to move as you allowed him to hold you, even as his grip on your waist got tighter and his kisses hotter.

Again, you didn’t know what to do. Was he really blackmailing you into, what, dating him? It seemed insane. Yet there was no indication that he was joking or just messing with you. No, he was serious. And he had so much over you, you couldn’t stop this and leave with your career or reputation in tact. So was this just going to happen, then? No question or concerns on whether you wanted him or not…Not that you’d never considered Bucky before, but he acted like he hated you. And you’d never admit it to anyone, but, he scared you sometimes, too.

Maybe it was obvious and you had just been trying to convince yourself otherwise. There was always a dark look in his eyes when it came to you. Something deeper than you’d ever wanted to consider. It was becoming more and more clear his intentions as you writhed against him while he pushed you further into the wall with his body, your breath becoming more shallow as you continued, a soft whimper escaping every now and again. His hands and lips wandering everywhere they could.

You cried out a little too loudly when he bit your neck a little too hard while he groped your ass. You could feel him smile against your skin as he did. He pulled back from you and grabbed your face in his metal hand, his hold harsh as he forced you to look at him. “Don’t worry too much, sweetheart. This can be fun for the both of us. Just do what I say and I’ll make sure we’re both happy, got it?”

You stared up at him with doe eyes as he moved your head to nod in agreement. You didn’t have a choice.

“Good,” he breathed before his lips crashed into yours. You didn’t fight him, his earlier words ringing in your ears. You didn’t want to make this night any harder than it had to be. You didn’t know how, but you trusted he could easily make it worse on you.. So this was just the beginning. Leaving the gala behind, you ended up back at his apartment. Another dress crumpled on the floor as you did what he wanted. You owed him. And now he owned you.

#bellasburdens one year celebration 💙#mean!bucky #dark!bucky #dark bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #dark bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes

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geralts-yenn · 1 year

Text

the natural thing to do

Mikey (Hellraiser) x reader (female reader, no race, bodytype, or physical features mentioned)

summary: After another breakup, instead of your best friend you only find her brother Mikey at her home. The guy you had a crush on since you were 12…

warnings: mention of relationship problems, smut: fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-i-v sex (be smarter than these two and protect yourself, guys!)

word count: 2,8k

A/N: This is my first time, be kind, everybody.

I‘m writing a longer fic right now but I just can’t help myself to write the chapter that needs to be written. So I started this small story that came into my mind one morning because I think we definitely need more Mikey fanfics.

I‘m not a native speaker, so there will be bad grammar, vocabulary and typos. Also, not beta‘d

Inspo board

You stop at the door, gasping for breath. Not sure if it was the stairs up to the fourth floor or the exhaustion of crying like mad for the last hour. You know you look like shit but you don’t care. Cathy knows you well in the state you’re in right now. It’s not the first time you show up at her door in the middle of the night after you split up with some guy that you thought would be your prince, only to turn out he’s just a frog. You ring the door and wait for Cathy to get up and let you in. You hide your face in the palms of your hands, trying to steady your breath.

When you hear the door being opened you let your hands fall down to your sides. Your eyes fall onto a face that you didn’t expect to be there. You freeze in shock, your mouth agape. „Sweetcheeks, hey, everything okay?“ Mike looks at you with an expression that is quite unusual for him. Instead of his signature smirk that was plastered on his face most of the time, right now his eyebrows are drawn together to a frown.

Of course he looks confused, you probably woke him and now you stare at him like an idiot with smears of mascara in your face. You are still not able to form a word. Mike cocks his head and lifts one hand to grab the back of his neck, his long fingers running through his dark curls. When he steps to the side, a silent invite for you to enter, you realize he is only wearing some loose boxers. Your look falls onto his wide chest. His body isn’t the same as you remember it when he was younger. There are muscles that you didn’t recognize and you also notice the soft hair that covers his chest and stomach.

You enter the hallway, toe off your sneakers and throw your jacket onto the chair in the corner. When you look up to Mike again you finally realize that you still haven’t said a word to him. Your mouth is dry and your voice sounds rough when you finally speak to him. „Sorry, you must think I‘m mad. I wanted to see Cathy. Isn’t she here?“ Mike leads you to the living room. „She’s with Ryan. I don’t know when she’ll be back.“ You notice pillows and a blanket on the couch. The TV screen shows a paused scene from ‚Nightmare on Elm street‘. Following your gaze Mike explains: „She lets me sleep on her couch tonight. My roommate asked for a little privacy. He and his girlfriend want to celebrate their anniversary.“ There it was again, his signature smirk, accompanied by an eyeroll.

He gestures with his arm for you to sit down. As you walk over to the couch Mike leaves the room. You let yourself fall onto his makeshift bed. As soon as you lean back you close your eyes and take a deep breath. It smells like Mikey. A scent that is so familiar to you. That you smelled so often when you were at Cathy‘s home, back then when all of you were still in high school. That you haven't been able to smell since Mikey left for college. A scent you didn’t know you missed that much. But now that it fills your nose again it feels like you found a treasure you had long forgotten.

Mike comes back and sits down next to you with crossed legs. He hands you a bottle of water that you take with a small smile as a thank you. „Wanna talk with me instead, Sweetcheeks?“ The soft expression on his face surprises you. You don’t think you have ever seen him like that. You take a sip from the water bottle to gain some time. In your mind a million thoughts are fighting to come to the surface at the same time and yet not one of them seems to make any sense. Mike wraps an arm around your shoulder and slowly rubs with his thumb over your arm. „It’s okay, Sweetcheeks, take your time. I just want you to let me know if I need to kick someone in his balls.“ For a second his smirk appears on his face again before it changes back to a warm, soft smile.

„No need to kick anyone, Mike!“ you say, chuckling. "Actually it's pretty silly that I'm crying. I split up with my boyfriend tonight. It was my decision. But it hurts nevertheless." Mike watches you intently. When you pause, he puts his hand onto yours. You appreciate the reassuring gesture. It seems as if Mike learned to be a little more sensitive in the last months. You half expected him to tease you with a mocking comment. But he stays silent, waiting for you to go on. "It‘s just so frustrating. Everyone else seems to find someone that makes them happy. But I can go on a thousand dates, every guy that is interested in me is an idiot.“ Mike licks his lips and gives you a sympathetic look. „Oh, Sweetcheeks, you‘ll find someone, too. I’m sure of it. You are sweet and you are beautiful. And most of all you are funny and laid back. Every guy should be glad to be with you.“ Mike‘s words make you feel heat crawling up your cheeks. Feelings that you had buried deep down in your heart suddenly fill your whole chest. Your heart is racing. You can’t avert your eyes from Mikey‘s plush lips. It takes all your willpower not to crash into him and kiss him.

Like so many times before you remind yourself that you can’t be with him. Not like that. He’s your best friend’s brother. No matter how much you like him, you can’t risk your friendship with Cathy. You notice you're staring at Mike without saying a word, again. Nervously you look over to the TV. You need some distraction. „Hey, can I watch the movie with you?“ Mike reaches for the remote on the coffee table. „Yes, of course! Want some snacks?“ He jumps up and gets a package of chips from the kitchen. He lets himself fall back onto the couch and puts his feet onto the coffee table, right next to yours and offers the package to you. With a smile you grab a handful of chips as Mike presses the start button. You watch the Movie in silence, your hands meeting from time to time while fishing for some chips. One of the jump scares gets you so bad that you grab Mikey‘s arm. „Easy, sweetcheeks!“ he chuckles. „Sorry! I should have known. I have seen that movie at least 5 times already.“ But your hand rests on his arm for another few precious seconds to feel his warmth.

After some time Mike‘s mobile starts to ring. „It’s Cathy“ he shows you. „Don’t tell her that I’m here. I’m sure she wants to stay at Ryan‘s. But she would come home for me. Let her have a nice night. I’m alright again, anyways.“ Mike grins at you and nods. He talks to his sister and as you expected, Cathy tells him that she’ll spend the night with her boyfriend.

After the movie ended you stand up, time to go to sleep before you get to think about kissing Mike once more. „I’m tired. I‘ll go sleep in Cathy's room. I’m sure she doesn’t mind“ Mike watches you through his long eyelashes. „Okay, good night, Sweetcheeks.“

When you lay in Cathy’s bed you are everything but tired. Restlessly you toss from side to side. Every time you close your eyes you see his handsome face, his curls, his chiseled jaw, his blue eyes and his cheeky smirk. The unplanned encounter with Mike hit you hard. Every emotion that you thought was long faded ran through your body and mind again. It was him. It was always him that filled your whole heart. No wonder you could never feel anything for someone else. He's the reason no relationship ever worked. No other guy could keep up to him.

You think about all these hidden feelings that you denied to acknowledge for so long. The love you felt for Mike was always there. Since you’ve been twelve. But now it rushed over you with a force that swept you off your feet.

Your mouth feels dry and you get up to fetch a bottle of water before you should finally try to get some sleep. As you enter the kitchen you see Mike squatting in front of the fridge. He doesn’t notice you. The light of the fridge illuminates his body and you can’t stop staring at him, thinking how desperately you want to kiss him, want to make love to him. A silent tear rolls down your cheek. Mike gets up and turns. His eyes go wide when he sees you standing at the door. But he doesn’t say a word. Slowly he walks over to you, stopping way too close. His face is only inches away from yours and you hold your breath. Mike notices the wet trail of your tear on your skin and rubs his thumb over it to dry it.

And this tender touch is everything it needs to make your world turn upside down and crash all the walls you built around you. You see Mike’s pupils grow wide and in the next moment your lips crash into each other. Mike kisses you fiercely, sucking and biting on your lower lip. You stumble through the kitchen until your thighs are pressed against the kitchen table. Your hands start to wander over Mikey‘s body. He feels so good, silky skin over hard muscles. You inhale his scent and then open your mouth for him. You feel electrified as your tongues touch.

His big warm hands are all over your body. A moan escapes your mouth when you feel his hardness press against your core. Mike‘s lips travel from your mouth over your jaw to the tender skin under your ear. You rub your palm over the thin fabric of his boxers and Mike answers with a deep growl. One hand finds its way under your shirt and squeezes your soft breast. His thumb and index roll your hardened nub. „Oh god, Mikey!“ you say, pleading. His other hand lets go of your neck and his fingers brush over your chest and ribcage into the waistband of your panties. „Oh fuck!“ he moans when he runs his fingers through your wet folds and then pushes two of them into you. Slowly he pumps them in and out.

But then, suddenly, Mike opens his eyes wide and takes a step back. Panting he looks at you with a shocked expression. „We can’t do that,“ he tells you. It almost sounds as if he needs to convince himself. Silently you nod. Another tear runs down your cheek when he starts to walk out of the kitchen. At the door he stops and turns. You see the pained look on his face. "I am so sorry. I can't ruin your friendship with my sister. And this is what will happen when I mess up. Like I always do. I'm just an idiot sometimes. Guess, I messed it up already. But I thought about kissing you so often, it felt like the natural thing to do."

Your heart beats like crazy. And you know it's time to take a risk. You get up and walk over to Mike slowly. A hand on his cheek, you shake your head. "You won't mess up! We won't mess up! Because THIS IS the natural thing to do for us."

Your lips brush over his cheek, over his lips, carefully, almost not touching. Mike doesn’t move. Desperately, you increase the force of your kiss, press your lips on his. Slowly your heart sinks. Was it wrong to do this? But then he fists your hair and returns your kiss. The world stops turning for a brief moment. All the love you had in you for so long erupts into your kiss.

Mike grabs your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him. He walks you through the kitchen and lets you down onto the table again. He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you help him dragging it over your head. Mike steps back and watches you with dark eyes. „You are beautiful, Sweetcheeks!“

Then his hands are on your bare breasts again. He spills wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, slowly sinking lower until he sucks on your sensitive nipple. You gasp at the sensation. Mike sinks on his knees, his kisses following him from your breasts to your belly button. His fingers slip into the lacey straps of your panty and you lift your hips so he can drag them down.

With his shoulders he presses your thighs wide open. Your heart races in your chest. Mikey purses his lips and blows over the wetness that covers your folds. You chuckle over his teasing and when you look down to him you see his smirk stretch over his face again. But your chuckling transforms into a loud moan as Mike’s tongue dips into your folds. You grab a handful of his dark curls as he works you with his lips and tongue. You‘re almost over the edge when you pull him up to you again.

In a deep kiss you taste yourself on his tongue. Your voice breaks as you beg: „Mike, I want you inside of me!“ Mike lets out an animalistic growl. He pulls his boxers down and kicks them from his feet. Your eyes go wide when you see the huge cock in his fist as he slowly pumps himself. Mike runs his tip through your wet folds up to your clit and back to your entrance. „Please, Mike! I need you!“ With your plea he can’t hold back any longer and he pushes into you.

Slowly, inch for inch he stretches your walls around his cock. You want him to go faster, but he takes his time until he finally bottoms out. For a moment both of you don’t move. Mike looks into your eyes. He is as close to you as he can be and if feels like this is exactly how it needs to be. The perfect moment.

And then he starts to move his hips. He fucks you slowly and sensually. His lips and hands are all over your body. You hook your legs around his waist to press him closer, stilling the desire to feel him as deep as you can. Mike grabs your hips and finally he increases his pace. You arch your back when you feel you're coming close to your climax. Mike moves his fingers between you and when he starts drawing circles around your clit you fall apart. Your walls are clenching and milking him. With a grunt Mike crashes one more time hard into you and fills you with his seed. You both move slowly, riding out your highs. Finally Mike stops and takes you in his arms. He spills small kisses over every inch of your face and neck.

Once more Mike lifts you up and carries you bridal style into the bathroom. He puts you down onto the rim of the bathtub and starts to clean you with a warm, wet washcloth. „Thank you, Mikey!“ You say, your voice hoarse. You are totally spent. „I feel like my brain isn’t working at the moment, sorry.“ You giggle. Mike lifts his head and smirks. „Did I short cut your brain? Maybe I need to do the same thing once more so that it‘s working again.“ You both laugh. „I don’t think I need my brain anymore tonight. But maybe tomorrow when we wake up we should try.“

Mike takes your hand and you walk into the living room. You both crawl onto the couch. Mike pulls your back against his chest, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand rest on your breast. He nuzzles his nose in your neck. „This feels good,“ he murmurs. „Good night, Sweetcheeks.“ You already drift off to sleep.

You both are sleeping deeply when Cathy opens the door of the apartment the next morning. Her gaze falls onto your jacket and shoes. The corners of her mouth curl up. On her toes she carefully enters the room and looks down onto the sleeping figures of you. You lay on Mike’s chest, your arms and legs are entangled with each other. Cathy pulls the blanket over you both. Slowly she walks over to her own room. With a wide smile she says: „Thank god, they finally gave in to their feelings.“ It was the right decision to go back to Ryan after she had seen your car in front of the building.

#mike (hellraiser)#mike hellraiser fanfiction #mikey hellraiser #mike (hellraiser) x reader

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mushiimune · 27 days

Note

when was the first time you watched newsies and what made you love it? :)

God I don't even remember anymore😭 I'm SOOOO OLLLLDDDUHHHHHH

I do remember that livesies was what first pulled me in. I remember scrolling tumblr endlessly and absorbing the art of crystallizedtwilight. "I want to draw like that," I thought, "I want to captivate an audience like that with my visions of these characters that I love."

I fantasized always about how great my art could be if I really pushed myself. About how much I wanted to gush about these things that I love and have strangers gush with me, drawn in by the work I put out there.

and through my tumblr escapades, I spotted the first mentions of 92sies.

"NOTHING WILL EVER COMPARE TO NEWSIES BROADWAY!" I thought

I HATED newsies 1992 at first. I HATED IT I thought it sucked and was totally lame and for losers! what is this monstrosity which I see before me? an unabashed fest of loserdom completely taking my favorite characters and unraveling them to neutral tone Guys???

but I started to dwell on 92sies. I started to think more about the changes to the story, the characters, how this one came first. something about it just captivated me. it captivates so many. and to some it may seem like just a silly box office flop about a 19th century strike that happens to include Christian Bale, but it's so much more, isn't it?

it's a story of courage and adversity. it shines a light in the dark where no one else in history ever really cares to look. the characters were so HUMAN. there were quiet and solemn moments, stakes that had you on the edge of your seat, and such strangely witty and period-typical dialogue that never really made it to Broadway.

there's delusion, there failure. there's wanting something to be real so badly in a time where hope ran short that Jack tried to weld fiction and reality together. there's higher stakes and realer danger, strikebreakers were so much scarier and Snyder made my skin crawl.

David had so much more depth. He wasn't just some shy goody two shoes, he was boyish and loquacious, just looking for a place he fit in to really open up and reach his potential. he was rough and tough and jumped into the battle feet first to fight for justice. we meet his parents, we meet his family, and we watch Jack softly sing Santa Fe on the fire escape.

There's so much longing. There's so much reaching out, hoping for another hand to reach back and be there to break your fall. There's no trust on the streets, but there is. They're not brothers or blood, but they're here together, and that's what matters.

There's no leader. The only thing that Jack wears to stand out from the rest of the newsies is his bandana. His dream puts him apart from the rest– rather than sticking around and working with what he was given, he wanted nothing more than to run away. A testament to what he'd been doing for all his life, running and hiding from the demons out to get him.

...and then David comes along, and teaches Jack courage. Maybe... if David can stand up for himself, so can he.

It's not that Jack has "nothing to stay for"... he's too scared to stay. What he doesn't have in New York is PEACE. And David gives that to him.

TLDR: I found newsies through Tumblr and I love the wordless lessons they teach through characters' actions and the story of triumph it tells even when the very circumstances of your birth are against you also historical fiction ftw

this was so fucking long I'm so sorry anon you didn't deserve this once I started writing I just couldn't stop.... . . . .

#ALSO #nothing wrong with livesies I still like it very much!#just me personally me prefer 92♥️♥️#idk if that was obvious.#WAAAAAHHHAHAH #answered asks #newsies #newsies 1992

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ariluvsusm · 2 years

Text

-description: azriel comforts you after you wake up from nightmares

-warnings: self-harm discussed, you’re very sad, female y/n, very soft and respectful azriel, azriel is the most respectful Illyrian male ever, i’m lonely fr so i wrote this at 2 am

-a/n this is low key shitty but i don’t usually write in 3rd person 😭😭 anyway i’m trying to improve myself please give me criticism :)

1.6k words

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after a few hours of tossing and turning, your mind has finally given in to your exhausted body. before long, you fall into a dream, a world where you can’t decipher between true and false, memory and the present, real-life and fantasy. images of your past haunt your mind, terrifying your consciousness, and after a mere hour of sleep, you abruptly awaken. your throat burns from screaming. and crying, you assume from your wet cheeks. your nightgown is hitched up, the thin material twisted around your waist. your hair is matted and tangled, and your entire body is covered in a sheen of sticky sweat. your pillows are strewn about the room and your sheets and blankets are entangled with each other, hanging off the bed. how you didn’t wake anyone, you don’t know. still crying, you sit helplessly on your bed, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around yourself, rocking back and forth to self-soothe. but you can’t help it, as you delve deeper into your memories, your breathing quickens and you know exactly what is to follow, and once you start, you cannot stop. the urge to cause yourself physical pain, to hurt yourself, only gets worse.

quickly, you crawl off of your bed, wiping your face and adjusting your rather short nightgown. but you don’t bother to change it before you slip out of your room and into the dark hallway. the only sound is the pitter-patter of your feet on the cold floor, and before you know it you’re standing in front of his door. he’s always told you he’s here whenever you need him, to come to him, but you’ve never actually taken him up on the offer. you can see from the light shining under his door that he is awake. before you can change your mind, you knock.

in a flash, the door opens, and standing before you is azriel.

“az,” you greet him quietly, your voice hoarse. and that’s all it takes before he opens the door wider, inviting you in. he’s shirtless, his hair is messy, and he has candles illuminating his desk, where a stack of papers and a pen sit. shadows writhe around his legs and feet.

“are you alright, y/n?” he asks as you walk by. he glances from your tangled hair, your wild eyes, your chapped lips, down to your wrinkled nightgown and exposed skin.

“yes,” you say quietly as he closes the door, “i’ve just had night terrors. i needed company.”

“did you…” he trails off, glancing at your exposed wrists and thighs, where self-inflicted scars litter your skin.

“oh, no.” you say quickly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “i was… i didn’t want… i… that’s why i came here,” you say. “i hope i’m not interrupting.”

“no, no, just some paperwork for my recent mission.” he says, waving in the direction of the desk. he steps closer to you. “you’re welcome here any time, y/n. any time. no matter the hour, or how busy i am.” he says, the last phrase a little quieter than the first.

you look down, tears threatening to escape your eyes. you wring your hands, trying not to remember the last time you trusted somebody like this… the last time you let someone in...

“thank you.” you say sincerely, your voice breaking. he kneels in front of you, catching your eyes in his. surprisingly, he places his scarred, calloused hands around yours. tendrils of his smoke-like shadows wrap around your hands, wrists, and forearms, covering your scars and pale skin in a blanket of night. azriel is the only male who knows of your past. and our certain he is the only one you will ever tell.

“i wish i could erase your memory, or change your past. but neither of us can. so instead, you must cope. in a safe and healthy manor. and i am here, for you, no matter what, to make sure you do that. and to make sure you recover, and never feel like you have to-” his voice breaks, “hurt yourself... ever again. i know how it feels to finally be safe. to question everyone around you. the uncertainty, the feeling that it all might be ripped away from you. the guilt of knowing so many others did not escape, will not ever. the loneliness. the nightmares, the terrors, the ghosts. they may not ever go away. but i’m not either.”

you lift your head to look at him, and he is staring at you already. pure love and understanding dance in his eyes. candlelight flickers across his face, which is contorted into an expression of worry. suddenly, he brings your hands to his lips, kissing your hands. and from your hands to your wrists, to your forearms. directly over your scars.

whatever leash you had on your emotions break, and you lunge foreword, flinging yourself into to his arms and letting out a sob. he wraps his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest.

you sit like that for a while, you in his arms weeping for the years past. him, arms around you, protecting you from the ghosts that haunt your every thought. tendrils of shadow wrap around you, binding you together, whispering comfort into your ear. finally, your tears stop and your breathing evens.

“thank you” you whisper into his chest. you adjust yourself to look up at him and meet his gaze. then, you wiggle out of his arms, both of you now standing. you awkwardly straight out your nightgown and he drinks in your every movement, every motion.

“so, um…” you say, looking down again.

“i know we aren’t… but- if you want to spend the night in here-” he says, quickly adding “just for comfort, you know. my bed is big enough for the both of us. it may be good for you to have someone, it might help your nightmares. and if you want…” he trails off, not finishing the last sentence, but his cheeks crowd with color. gods, did you make azriel flustered?

“i would like that.” you say a little too quickly.

“okay. let me just finish up here.” he says, gesturing to his desk. “go ahead and… make yourself at home.” he says, now waving in the direction of the bed. you crawl onto the giant, unmade bed, and into the mess of covers. after settling under his fluffy duvet cover, you watch him work. his muscular back. his dark skin like molten gold. his scent crowds your fae senses, and you are comforted. the pressure of your last few weeks weighs down on you. after you yawn, az turns around.

“hey, if you want, we can go ahead and go to sleep. i can finish this tomorrow.” you shake your head, closing your eyes and stifling another yawn. but when you open them, the paperwork has disappeared, and azriel is putting on a shirt in an attempt to be respectful about sharing his bed with you. you try not to smile. then, he is climbing into bed, wings out and relaxed. again, you try not to smile. you know that he would have to be comfortable and trust you to share a bed. but illyrians are so careful with their wings, so careful about who sees them, who touches them. he props himself up against plush pillows, turning to face you.

“so…” he says, “um, if you think it would help you, we can… you know…” this time, you actually crack a smile.

“is azriel, spymaster of the night court, terror incarnate, asking me to snuggle?” for a supposed spymaster, he is terrible at hiding his feelings. because when he looks over at you, giving you a small smile, affection speckled in his eyes, you know exactly how he feels about you. you sit up in bed, knowing that you probably look awful right now, with your untamed hair, your face shiny from sweat. but he looks at you like the most beautiful female he’s ever seen.

“i just think- you know, physical comfort…” azriel says, looking up at you.

“yes. it would.” you say, once again, a little too eagerly. but he doesn’t smirk at you, or tease you. he just smiles. you’ve never seen azriel like this, his guard down, so vulnerable. so you crawl across the giant bed, to where azriel lays, arms open. you place yourself in them, facing into his chest, and breath in the scent of him. he wraps his arms around you tightly. his shadows dance on your skin, making soothing circles on your exposed back and arms. his wings wrap around you too, so warm and soft, providing you with a different type of comfort and safety, one that you’ve never experienced. he leans down and places a small kiss atop your head, and all of the candles in the room go out, now completely dark save for the very small amount of light coming in through the windows because of the full moon.

and you fall asleep like that. you feel more safe and protected than you have in a long while, him wrapped around you, your two bodies entwined. you yearn for it to continue, for the feeing of security and stability to stay. so in the morning, when you both stir, when life and light stream through the windows and people bustle about in the hallways, neither of you let go.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel supremacy #fanfic #sjm #acomaf #acofas #acosf

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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Hi! I wanted to make a request for a Larissa X reader one-shot where the reader slowly starts to distance themself from her (sometimes the thoughts just win, ya know) and Larissa is concerned, trying to get them to talk to her and open up about what's happening, but they shrug it off as being tired. Reader falls into some no so healthy habits and coping mechanisms, eventually going to her because they're scared of what they might do if they continue down that path.

As I type this I realise how dark it sounds but I would be so interested to see where you take it, I absolutely love all of your other stories!!

Talk To Me

Larissa Weems x Reader

Authors Note: I’m going to write what I know here. I know there are more extreme coping mechanisms, but I’m not looking to trivialize experiences that I, myself, do not fully understand.

Warning: veiled descriptions of depression and mental illness

You sat on the couch watching reruns of you-didn’t-care-what. Actually, you weren’t watching, you were scrolling on your phone. Even your scrolling through your apps was more mindless. You could have sworn that the inside of your skull was filled with a black fog that just wouldn’t go away.

“How are you doing, honey?” Larissa came over the back of the couch, her lips pressing themselves to your temple. She had just gotten home from work and you could tell she was happy to see you. You were struggling to feel much of anything lately. You hated the numbness and it was beginning to scare you.

“Mmm, good. And you?” You don’t look up from your phone or turn to kiss her.

Larissa doesn’t seem to notice as she hangs her jacket over the back of a chair and drops her back into its seat. She walks around the couch and plops down next to you, drawing you into her embrace, “Talk to me. You okay, honey? You seem a little off. Something happen at work?”

How could you explain to her the pain you felt without having any visible injuries?

“No, no, I’m okay. I’m just tired, I think.” You lied. You knew something was wrong, but the emotions felt too complex to articulate.

“Okay, baby. If you need anything, you know you can talk to me.” Larissa didn’t press, but you could tell that she didn’t believe you.

You skipped work three days in a row. Larissa typically would have never noticed, but when she came home to find you laying in the living room, there was no hiding it any longer. You hadn’t left your pajamas, didn’t have your phone, and the TV was off. You had chosen to just sit in the quiet room with your thoughts.

“Y/n… What’s going on…?” Larissa was slow in her movements. She set her things down and gingerly made her way to your side. She sat on the floor by your face so she could look at you.

Tears were already running down your face, you needed to tell her, you needed to share something with her. Larissa couldn’t take it when she saw you cry. She guided you off the couch and pulled you into her lap so she could hug and hold you.

When you finally calmed down your tears, you were able to verbalize some of your emotions, “I’m just so empty. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you. Many people go through this, y/n.” Larissa was quick with her reply and her serious tone made you know her words were honest and true.

“But I want it to stop…” You were able to say before you started crying again.

Larissa sat and rocked you for a moment, gently shushing you before she spoke, “Then we may need some help. Perhaps we could find someone for you to talk to. Everyone needs someone to talk to sometimes.”

You liked how she said ‘we’. You knew you weren’t in this alone. You kept talking to her, describing the emotions and how they made you feel. You truly felt a little bit better after talking about it with her. Getting the feelings out on the table made everything feel that much more bearable.

“You and me, baby. We will get through this.” Larissa held you close, like she was never going to let go. In that moment, you knew that with her support, you were going to find ways to cope and feel better.

#larissa weems #fanfic #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #oneshot #larissa weems angst

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

Note

Our furnace is broken and I am covering myself in blankets to help get warm, can you write something about snuggling for warmth with Eskel on those cold Kaer Morhen nights

Winters Cold Embrace

A/N: I hope your furnace gets fixed soon! its a short funny little thing that I hope makes you at least chuckle

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words:~430

Warnings: Language

____________________

The fall had been fine, it was chilly but not too cold- more crisp than anything. But now it was full-blown winter in the keep and right now it fucking sucked.

The keep was already old and falling apart, but the past few days have been putting it to the test. It's been snowing light flakes of and on, but the real heavy hitter was the wind. It was bitterly cold and was working at widening the cracks of the keep and it slipped into every nook and cranny.

“F-F-Fu-FUCK, it’s cold as Lebioda’s balls in here… maybe? He might have been a eunuch…” you rambled out from beneath your pile of blankets- peeking out from a little fold just big enough to see through.

Eskel laughed as he came into view, peeking into the little eye slot you had made. “He definitely was not.”

“What? Did you know him personally?” you asked peeking your head further out of the blankets to see the warm food he carried. You made quick work of sneaking your arm out and grabbing one of the sandwiches he had on the plate.

“No, but I feel like it would’ve been mentioned a bit more if he was.” Your witcher commented with a residual chuckle. “Now, can I get in on the cocoon? Even witchers get cold…” He said and began unwrapping your layers of blankets.

“Please join me, you’re my personal space heater…” you said through a mouthful of sandwich as you shifted over to make room.

“Gods, you just never stop being sexy, huh?” He grinned and climbed into the space you'd made for him, quickly pulling you to his lap.

You laughed and wiped your mouth, curling into the radiant heat that was just rolling off his body. A content hum rumbled in your chest as his arms wrapped around you and pulled the blankets back into their proper place.

“On a positive note-” he started, changing subjects, “- Vesemir is mixing up a big batch of mortar right now, and when it's ready my brothers and I will go and patch up some of the cracks- starting with the rooms.”

“Oh, I’ve never loved you more…” You said with a sigh of relief as you pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you so much for taking care of me. I guess I don’t do the cold too well…“ you said with a slight frown to your expression.

His large hand rubbed warmth into your side and drew you ever closer. “Of course…. I’ll always be here, warmth or cold”.

_________________

Taglist: @open--till--midnight @writingmysanity @dark-academia-slut

#lmao whoops i forgot to title it the first time #its a little short but hey #also please send more requests and distract me from having to finish prey of the hunt lol #witcher eskel #eskel #eskel fluff #eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #eskel imagine #the witcher #the witcher 3 #tw3 eskel

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aceofstars16 · 2 months

Text

A fic I started writing a *while* ago and finally finished! I was going to try to draw something to go with it, but it's already been sitting for weeks or even months so...I'm just gonna share it now xD

Mabel is creating another sweater masterpiece, but then someone unexpected asks for her assistance.

Mabel was in the zone. Her fingers moved quickly, the clacking of her knitting needles filled the air. This was going to be a GREAT sweater. One of her best! Well, all of them were the best, but still!

She was vaguely aware of Dipper telling her he was going out with Soos and Stan to do…something, she didn’t quite catch what it was. But that was fine, this sweater would take up at least another hour, probably more. And if they weren’t back by then, well, she could start on another one. Or have a dance part with Waddles. Or about a million other things.

The TV was on as Mabel worked. She was half watching, half working, just how she liked it. Which is probably why didn’t notice Dipper leaving. Or just about anything else going on in the shack. That is, until someone coughed. Well, she might not have noticed that either, but it was kind of loud. Almost like they had already coughed once.

Looking up, a grin broke out on Mabel’s face as she saw Ford standing in the doorway.

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel held up her sweater. “What do you think?”

Ford glanced at the sweater, taking it in for a moment, then a hesitant smile grew on his face. “It’s uh, it’s very colorful.”

“Right?” She held up the yarn she was using. “I have been wanting to use these colors for ages and I finally got around to it, and it looks awesome!”

Ford nodded, but didn’t say anything else, almost as if he was at a loss for words.

Then Mabel had a spark of genius. “Oh my gosh! I can make you a sweater! I’ve tried making some for Dipper but he never wears them. I think ‘cause of his sweating problem. And I’ve offered to make one for Stan too. He says he doesn’t need one, but I’ll wear him down soon, I know it. But! You already wear sweaters!”

For a moment, Ford just stared at her, then he shook his head. “Oh, ah. No, that’s fine. I don’t need a new sweater.”

Mabel’s shoulders drooped and the sweater she had been holding up fell in her lap. All the of ideas she had been coming up with in the last few seconds came screeching to a halt.

“Oh, but uh, I do actually have a favor to ask. And it does involve sweaters.” Ford pulled his hands out from behind his back and showed her the black turtleneck he had been wearing when he’d first come out of the portal, along with the red one she’d seen him wear for the past few days. It was only now that she realized he was wearing a white button up instead of his normal sweater, though his coat was pulled tightly around his neck. “These have a few holes in them. I…can patch them myself, but-”

“I can help!” Mabel sat up straight, her smile returning to her face. “I can do it right now if you want!”

Ford held up a hand. “Oh, no, that’s fine. Just when you have time. I’ll leave them here.” He placed the sweaters on the edge of the couch.

Mabel couldn’t stop herself from picking up one of them. “I can do it now, really, you could even stay and-”

“No, no. Really. It’s fine. There are some things I need to attend to.” Ford gave her an awkward smile which she tried to return despite her disappointment. She really wanted to get to know Ford better.

“I’ll leave you to your current project.” Ford raised a hand in farewell, then turned and left without another word.

Mabel frowned at the empty hallway where her grunkle had been. Then she glanced at the sweater in her lap. “Sorry rainbow sweater, but I have another project I gotta work on first.” Placing aside her colorful top, Mabel picked up the black turtleneck and frowned. It was so dark, and as she examined it, she saw a bunch of holes in it. The red one was better, but still way too holey.

Carefully placing all of the sweaters on the couch, she raced upstairs. Ford might’ve said he only needed a patch job, and he’s said there was no rush. but Mabel knew she couldn’t pass up this opportunity. This was her chance to make something for her new grunkle – even if it was just adding something to his current clothes – and she was not going to wait to get started.

------

Ford frowned as he stared at the rift, moving within its containment unit. He was still at a loss as to how to get rid of it, if he even could. It was just another reminder of his mistakes, and now, thanks to Stan, he was back to square one with stopping Bill too.

The sound of the elevator opening sent a wave of panic through Ford and he quickly closed the door to the cabinet he had been keeping the rift in. He’d told Dipper, yes, but he didn’t want to risk anyone else knowing about it.

“Grunkle Ford!”

Spinning around, Ford was met with the sight of Mabel grinning, her hands behind her back. He was more than a little surprised to see her, it had only been an hour or so since he’d gone upstairs to give her his sweaters.

“So, I know you said there wasn’t a rush, but I really wanted to work on your sweaters right away…” Mabel pulled her hands from behind her back to show him the sweaters. “But I really wanted to do them now!”

For a moment, Ford stared at her. She had worked fast! He wasn’t very knowledgeable about knitting, but he had always assumed it took a while to make something. Then again, he’d only asked for a patch job, so maybe that didn’t take as long.

Reaching forward, he picked up the top sweater – his red one – which, upon further inspection, he could see was now free of holes. “Thank you, Mabel, I appreciate-” He trailed off as he caught sight of his black turtleneck. Because it was no longer fully black. There were grey and white polka dots scattered over the whole thing and on the front was a stitched six fingered hand.

“You like it?” Mabel grinned, holding up the sweater. “There were a lot more holes, and I didn’t have much black left. And I thought ‘hey, everyone loves polka dots!’ and since you have a fix fingered hand on your journal, I figured that would be a fun touch too!”

For a moment, Ford just stood there processing the information. He’d only asked for a patch job, he really didn’t need anything extra, and he would’ve gladly waited for her to get more yarn that would match. But then he met her gaze and saw the pure excitement and enthusiasm shining in her eyes. He couldn’t help but remember her creativity when playing DD & More D, and the fact that she had channeled that into one of his sweaters and was so excited about it…He found a small smile growing on his face as well.

“Thank you, Mabel. I love it.”

“Really?!?” Mabel beamed, holding it out to him.

He accepted it and placed it above the red sweater that he had draped on his arm.

“Are you gonna try it on?”

Ford couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Alright, I’ll try it on.” He handed her the red sweater before carefully pulling the black one over his head. He glanced down at it and smiled. It wasn’t his style at all - even after thirty years in other dimensions, he still found himself trying not to draw attention to his extra fingers - but for some reason, he didn’t mind seeing it displayed on a sweater.

“It looks perfect! Now we really are sweater twins!”

“I suppose we are.” Ford smiled fondly at her enthusiasm. It really was contagious.

“Oh! I forgot! I need to let Waddles out for a bit, he’s been cooped up for hours and I can’t let him out without supervision!” Mabel quickly handed the red sweater to Ford and raced towards the elevator, but not before giving Ford one last grin. “I’m glad you love your sweaters Grunkle Ford!”

Ford watched as the elevator doors closed. Then he glanced down at the sweater before looking up at the dismantled portal and the cabinet with the rift in it. His work tended to be quite messy. With a frown, he carefully removed the black sweater and replaced it with the red. It was a special gift and he didn’t want to accidentally ruin it. No, he decided that it would be saved for very special occasions. After all, this was the first gift he’d received in a long time, especially from family. And for that, it deserved to be treated as the treasure that it was.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #ford pines #mabel pines #stanford pines #mabel and ford bonding #sweater twins #aceo writes things

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unmaskthewriter · 8 months

Text

Home {Charles Smith x Native!Reader}

A/N: This story went through so many ideas. I couldn’t decide, especially because I just feel like my writing isn’t good enough right now, especially bc I try to keep my writing short bc I am not creative enough for long stories and I’m stretching for ideas because I love to write. Thinking about taking requests. Also reader is gender neutral. Might edit this to be an OC fic later on. Also I apologize if this is a little OOC. It’s my first time writing for Charles.

Warnings: canon typical violence, fluff, angst, mourning/grieving, canon character death

Word Count: 1.8k

1899

You met him one afternoon when he entered the reservation to speak with your father and brother. He was a dark skinned man with a long, black braid down the center of his scalp, ending towards the middle of his back. You were sitting alongside your father.

“Father, when will we draw the line? They’ve stolen our horses, they attack our women—“ Eagles Flies ranted.

“Enough, son. We can have our horses returned without fighting.” Rains Fall tried to dissuade his son. You made eye contact with the strange man.

“Rains Fall is right. I will not start a fight over some horses.” He spoke firmly. Eagle Flies lets out a frustrated sigh, storming from the tent. You quickly follow, witnessing through the flaps of the tent as Eagle Flies mounts the strange man’s horse and rides off into the night.

“He stole your horse.” You state plainly, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“My child, please take Charles Smith and find your brother. He is running toward a dangerous situation.” Rains Fall explains from across the tent. So, Charles is his name.

“I know, Father.” You nod and lead Charles to the hitching posts. In front of you stood a tall, warped brindle Arabian.

“Kiona.” You spoke softly, drawing a carrot from your satchel and feeding her. Quickly mountain, Charles mounts behind you.

“A beautiful horse.” He compliments as you follow the trail out of the reservation.

“Found her just outside the reservation. Tamed her myself.” You smile, lightly gripping the reins. Silence passes.

“What do you think about living here… on the reservation, I mean?” He questions.

“It’s not terrible… but my people have suffered. If I could help them escape, I would but with the U.S Army breathing down our necks, it’s impossible,” You respond, “My brother has good intentions, he just… doesn’t always think things through… why don’t you tell me about yourself, Mr. Smith?”

“I know a few men like that,” Charles chuckled, “and please, call me Charles. Mr. Smith is my father. My mother was Indian, and my father a black man. We lived with her people for some time, until one day, some men took her and never came back… my father was never the same after that.”

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that.” You respond quietly, a frown tearing at the edges of your lips. Up ahead, Charles spotted his horse on the edge of a camp. After reuniting with Eagle Flies in the camp that Charles and his friends inhabited, your brother gathered a small party to reclaim the stolen horses.

“Arthur, we must go with them… to try to stop things from getting… out of hand.”

“I guess… come along. We can get them more horses.” The older man, Arthur, agreed. Charles turned to you, placing a hand to your shoulder.

“Please, return to your father. We will get the horses back.” Charles reassures you.

“Do not worry about the horses, just bring my brother home safe.”

“I promise.” Charles nods to you before mounting his horse and following the others into the night. You did as Charles had asked, and waited at the reservation for the return of your brother.

Hours passed before you witnessed Eagles Flies, Paytah and Charles leading the horses back into the reservation. Rains Fall watches from the entrance of his tent as you approach the group.

“Don’t run off like that again.” You tell Eagles Flies as you wrap your arms around his slender frame. He chuckles, returning the hug.

“Do not worry about me, little one. I am the one who has to protect you.” He spoke softly before pulling away and walking towards your father. You looked at Charles who stood back a few feet. He mounts his horse as you approach.

“Thank you, Charles… for bringing my brother back safely. I’m… my people are indebted to you.” You declare, gently taking his hand. He squeezes it gently before pulling away and leaving.

You should have expected the U.S Army would retaliate.

They came in the night under the cover of darkness, capturing young men and women of the tribe, you amongst them. With a sack pulled over your head and hands and feet bound with tight rope, you couldn’t see or move. All you could feel was the butt of the gun smashing against your head and knocking you unconscious.

For hours, you drift to and from unconsciousness. The sack had been removed from your head, but you were still bound, suspended from the ceiling. Occasionally, soldiers would come and land a few punches and kicks, trying to elicit a response before giving up.

It wasn’t long before you could hear shouting and… gunfire? You hang there, looking around drearily. One of your eyes was swollen shut, bottom lip busted and bruises littering your frame.

“They’re in here!” A familiar voice shouted and weakly you lifted your head to see Charles breaking the lock on the door. He rushes to your side, carefully cutting the ropes to release you. Swiftly, you fell to the ground with a small groan.

“I’m sorry, come on. Are you alright to walk?”

“… ‘m fine.. where’s my brother?” You asked as Charles wrapped an arm around you and helped you to walk.

“Don’t worry, Arthur has him… come on, let’s get out of here.” He encourages you, mounting his horse and carefully lifting you up. You sit behind him, slumped against him. A gunfight ensues during the escape, but you’re too tired and weak to care.

“Alright, we’re at the river. Let’s get you in a canoe.” His sweet voice explains to you, carefully lifting you from the horse and placing you down in the canoe. You laid back against the seat, too tired to sit up.

“Are they okay?” A voice called out as you closed your eyes.

“We just need to-“

And you were out cold.

It was midday when you awoke, the sunlight bleeding in from the tent flaps. You look around slowly, noticing your bloody clothes had been removed, and replaced with a clean tanned leather dress. Underneath, you were bandaged. You could barely see from your left eye, and upon licking your lips you tasted old blood.

“You’re awake.” Charles entered the tent, kneeling down beside you.

“How long was I out?” You ask, gently rubbing your temple as you sit up. He extends a cup of water, to which you graciously accept.

“Half a day. You were beaten up pretty bad. Eagle Flies is okay, he’s recovering.” Charles answered any questions you’d have. You relax slightly as you drink the water he provided. A moment passes between you both.

“Eagle Flies will not let this go, Charles.” You tell him, setting the cup down on the small nightstand.

“I know, I know… just rest now. It’ll be alright.” He comforts you as you lay back down on the bed to rest and recover.

Days had passed before you and Eagle Flies had recovered from your wounds. You returned to your duties, helping the sick and elderly. It wasn’t long before Eagle Flies demanded justice for those who were hurt by the U.S Army.

“Today, we ride! No longer will we be abused and killed by the Army, for sport, for oil!” He shouted, leading a small war party from camp. You watched as father looked on with a frown before mounting his own horse, and following.

It was a quiet day within the reservation. Eagle Flies had fled with some of the brave warriors of the tribe to strike the heart of the tribe’s issues — Cornwall Kerosene and Tar.

He’s your brother, although sometimes it doesn’t feel as though that’s the case. While he was brave and headstrong, you were more calm and peaceful like your father.

With the galloping of hooves outside, you and your father emerge from the tent. Arthur, pale and sickly, dismounts his horse while Charles follows, carefully helping Eagle Flies down from the horse. You take a small step forward, frowning.

“Bring him to me.” Your father commanded, watching as your brother was transported to the small enclosure. You follow, sitting down beside your father as the men carefully place Eagle Flies down. Rains Fall takes hold of his son’s hand as you place a gentle hand to your brother’s cheek. Tears begin to roll.

“My son.” Rains Fall whispered as his son took his final breath. You sobbed, leaning over your brother’s body. Arthur and Charles left the tent, speaking amongst themselves for a moment.

“I’m sorry, but we must pack and move…”

1907

With the changing of the seasons and the passing of the years, you grew into a young adult. It was shortly after the tribe’s arrival in Canada that Charles Smith left to return to his friends.

“Charles, please, wait!” You call out, following him to his horse. You pull something from your satchel, holding it out to him. It was a trinket adorned with a small moose antler with a coyote fang on one end, and a cougar fang on the other, “Take this.”

Charles carefully takes the trinket, examining the craftsmanship before looking at you, “Thank you. This is… amazing.”

“You are one of us.” You reassure him as he puts on the trinket, mounting his horse. He leans down, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Until we meet again.” He tells you before releasing your hand and riding off.

It didn’t take you much longer to leave as well, the pain of your brother’s loss being too much to bear. You wandered across the states, never staying in one place for too long. Your mind often wandered to all those years ago, the people you met, and the people you lost. No matter where you traveled, you always felt like something was missing, never feeling at home. Saint Denis was never your cup of tea, but it was a good place to gather supplies and clean up. The sound of a trumpet filled the streets between the random conversations throughout town and noises from the railroad you had overheard. You were standing outside the post office, sliding a letter over the desk.

“To Rains Fall in Canada,” You mention as you glance to your right for a moment. In the distance, two familiar men were crossing the cobblestones street to the docks. Quickly, you pay the man in the window before leading Kiona to the men.

“Charles?” You called out softly, slowly releasing Kiona’s reins. He stopped, and turned on his heel to face you. He looked different — his hair was no longer shaved and braided but instead splayed freely around his shoulders. He wore a collared shirt and vest that had seen better days. There were some bruises and scarring to his face and knuckles but he was still the man you met all those years ago. Before you knew it, you both were running toward each other to embrace. He lifts you into his arms, taking a slow, deep breath.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” You cry quietly, remembering all too well the day he left.

“I’m here now.” He spoke softly into your neck, his hot breath hitting your soft skin.

Home wasn’t with the tribe. Home didn’t have four walls and a roof. Home was in his arms, you knew that now.

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