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redstarwriting · 11 months

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the clash | ix. last caress

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.4k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, cavity-inducing fluff, crying hobie, mentions of giving blood, mentions of procedures, needy cat, mention of weed, allusions(ish) to s*icide

a/n: omg writing fluff takes me so much longer than anything else cause i’m squirmin around and squealin BUT here it is! second to last chapter! (also, i’m not black so i hope i touched on the haircare for black hairstyles right! if i missed the mark please let me know and i will re-educate myself!) what a wild ride, i’ll get the last chapter either up late tonight, or tomorrow! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy!

previous chapter: viii. love you to death

now reading: ix. last caress

next chapter: x. brand new

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When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the smell. Weed and incense. You groggily open your eyes, realizing you’re clutching a bat plushie. You grin. It’s cute, especially since it belonged to Hobie’s world, and you didn’t own a bat plushie. You sink further into the satin pillow, shocked at how comfortable you are in his bed. You hear the soft sound of a guitar playing, and you reluctantly and slowly sit up. Your intention is to go harass Hobie, but damn. Venom must have done a number on you. You’re sore as hell, and your energy is still almost completely gone. You successfully sit, but you’re immediately leaning against the wall as you do. The guitar playing stops, and you hear Hobie’s thick accent from the next room over. “You awake in there, love?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice is scratchy. How long have you been asleep? He walks into his room and leans against his door frame. He’s wearing casual clothes, his suit nowhere to be found, and yet somehow, he still looks cooler and more attractive than anyone you’ve ever met. “You know, you really should be layin’ down,” he says, and you shrug. He walks over to you and sits on the bed, next to your legs. You notice he has dark circles under his eyes, and he looks exhausted. “How are you feelin’?” he asks, placing his hand on yours. You shrug. “Honestly, been better.” He nods and looks down. You frown. “What’s on your mind there, Hobie?” He plays with your fingers, and you turn your hand over, grasping his. He visibly relaxes a bit. You softly squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back. “I… need to tell you somethin’,” he starts, “Somethin’… bad.”

“What…?” you look nervous. He looks at you and frowns. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Seeing the fireworks with you,” you respond, and he nods. “Good,” he mumbles, “I guess I should start with tellin’ you you been sleepin’ for three days now.”

“Three days?” you ask, surprised. He nods, “Yeah.”

“Have I been here the whole time?”

“Mhm,” he says, dreading the next thing he’s about to tell you. “I appreciate it, Hobie, but why not just take me home? Do I look like I need a caretaker?” you joke, and he smiles a bit. “Yeah, actually, you do,” he responds and you grin. “But uh… you are home now…” he says, and you look at him confused.

“What?” He sighs, scooting further onto his bed and turning to face you with his whole body. His other hand reaches out, and he cradles the hand he’s holding with both of his hands. “Right, lemme just… start from the beginnin’, then. Venom takin’ control of you… that wasn’t meant to happen,” he says, staring at your joined hands. “What shoulda happened was Venom was supposed to take over m–… the Prowler. And then, uh… then he woulda become the spider of your world after Venom bondin’ with you for a short while and gainin’ your spider abilities before returnin’ to the Prowler…”

“So, there would have been two of us? One good and one bad?” you ask, and Hobie looks up at you with a sad expression. “…No. No, there woulda been one bad cause… well…”

“I was supposed to die…?” you whisper, and he nods, his grip on your hand tightening. “I woulda saved you either way, but… I accidentally-on-purpose interfered and–”

“You killed the Prowler,” you finish his sentence, and he looks at you surprised. “Venom mentioned something about you killing someone, so…” you mumble, and he nods. “Yeah… yeah, I kinda lost my cool for a bit after seein’ what he did to you and uh… took matters into my own hands,” he says, and you nod slowly. “What did Venom mean by you killed yourself?” Hobie freezes and looks down again. How the hell is he supposed to explain this one? Guess he’ll just say it and accept whatever reaction you have. “The Prowler on your world… was me,” he whispers the last part, feeling himself tear up. He prepares himself for you to pull your hand away and use what little energy you had to travel to Gwen’s world and never talk to him again. He would completely understand, learning that someone identical to him ruined your life in so many ways must be jarring.

So, he prepares for the worst.

What he doesn’t prepare for is to feel your hand on his cheek, gently wiping away a single tear that escaped down his cheek with your thumb. “That wasn’t you, Hobie. He may have had your face and your name, but… he wasn’t you,” you assure, and he swallows the lump in his throat. The anxiety wracking his body eases slightly, and he lets out a shaky breath. One of his hands comes up to grasp yours on his cheek, holding it there as he leans his face into it, closing his eyes. He feels another tear fall, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t agree with society’s take on masculinity. He opens his eyes again, looking at your face. “Don’t cry, love,” he hears you say, and he gives you a small smile. “Nah, that’s my nickname for you.”

“And?” you say, grinning at him softly, “I’m not one to necessarily give a fuck what you say.”

“Cheeky. You’re lucky I loved it,” he says, and you softly laugh. “But uh… right, so I killed myself, sorta.”

“In a way.”

“A different me. Did you know he worked with the cops?”

“Oh yeah. They hate me. Another clear indication that he is not you in any way except physical,” you say, and he grins. “Well, in the fight we had–”

“Did he hurt you?” you ask, and he shrugs. “He tried. I won, though. Obviously. But the fight was in Oscorp Labs, and durin’ it… I broke some glass, releasin’ Venom to the outside world like the bloody dickhead I am,” he explains, and you nod, but give him a look. “You’re not a dickhead, Hobie. If you weren’t there, evil you would have bonded with it because he wouldn’t have died, so… maybe it was a good thing?” you suggest, trying to lighten Hobie’s dark mood. “Maybe. But then Venom followed me back to your flat after I killed who it was originally supposed to bond with,” he says, and you frown. “It probably wanted to bond with you,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “It told me it feeds off of the life force of humans, and the easiest way to make it more powerful is for the host to have strong negative emotions. That’s why it taunts and belittles whoever it has control of. To piss them off. It probably saw the anger that drove you to kill and figured you’d be the best host.”

“But then I went home before it could attach itself to me, so it attached to you instead,” he mumbles, and you nod. He sighs. This really was all his fault. “Well… yeah so it attached to you, and then you remember what happened next.”

“Yeah,” you nod, and he rubs the back of your hand against his cheek with his thumb. “So, we did end up successfully killin’ the wanker,” he says, and you nod, “but in doin’ ‘at… we killed your world with Venom.” You freeze. “W-What?” You draw your hand away from his face due to the shock of the statement. He subconsciously grips your other hand tighter. “Venom was supposed to be the spider-person of your world… there were too many canon changes,” Hobie explains, and you feel your chest tighten. Now you’re the one crying. But seeing you cry and look so defeated makes him cry more. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry,” he chokes out. He loosens his grip on your hand, fully expecting you to pull away, but you don’t.

“Everything… everything’s gone?” your voice is weak, and he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, he’s interrupted by a meow. You turn your head, and see a black cat, looking up at you before hopping onto the bed and nuzzling against your side in an effort to cheer you up. “Shadow…?” you mumble, and he meows. But he doesn’t look like the Shadow you’re used to seeing. He looks more like a cat from Hobie’s world. “We saved what we could,” he whispers, and you look at him again. He smiles sadly at you. “I told Gwen, Miles, and Pav to grab everythin’ they could… they got everythin’ but the furniture, it’s all out in the sittin’ room… figured you probably wouldn’t want to move in with me after hearin’ bout what I did, so… we could move you to one of the other flats in the buildin’. Y’know it’s an abandoned buildin’, so there’s loads of rooms, and you wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout payin’, and–”

“You made sure my things were safe…?” you cut him off, and he looks at you. His focus was drawn away from you during his rambling, so he didn’t notice the realization of just how much he cared about you spread across your face. “Of course… it was the least I could do,” he answers, “I also asked a friend for that lil bat for you to have while goin’ through the genetic procedure. it was all my fault this happened, so helpin’ you adjust–”

“Adjust to what…?”

He takes a deep breath. “Miguel has a way to alter the genetic code of someone to have ‘em switch worlds… when we found out your world was gonna… disappear, we prepared. After the fight, I took you to Miguel and we successfully changed your genetic code. We did the same for Shadow, and all your things,” he explains, and you look at your hand. Sure enough, you look like you belong in Hobie’s world now. You didn’t notice the change before. Not until this very moment. “I had to give a lot of blood to continue to stabilize your genetic code changin’, so if I look like shit, that’s why” he admits to you, “But I would do it all over again without a second thought.”

“You don’t look like shit. That’s virtually impossible,” you mumble, and he smiles softly. You look down at Shadow, scratching between his ears with your free hand. Hobiie looks down, feeling another wave of emotion crash over him. He takes a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n). This all happened because of me… it’s my fault,” he whispers, and you gently put your hand under his chin, lifting his head to look into your eyes. “Stop doing that.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Blaming yourself,” you say, wiping away some of his tears. “Can’t help it,” he mumbles, his voice shaking. “You can. Just takes time,” you respond, smiling softly at him through your own tears. He wipes away some of yours in return as the two of you stare at each other, no words being spoken. His eyes flick down to your lips before returning to your gaze, nonverbally asking you for permission. You nod slightly, and the two of you slowly lean toward each other. When your lips meet, the both of you immediately relax into each other. The two of you stop holding the other’s hand, but you quickly wrap your arms around his neck as he wraps his around your waist, pulling you closer. You two only break apart from each other to take a breath, but you keep your foreheads together as the two of you stare into each other’s eyes.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want to move in with you?” you whisper, and he grins. He gently rubs up and down your sides, humming in response. “Cause I’m an absolute turnip,” he mumbles, and you giggle. “Nah. You’re more like my hero,” you say, and he chuckles. “Always, my love. Always,” he whispers, kissing you again. You smile into the kiss, causing him to do the same. Shadow’s annoyed meow makes the two of you look down at him, and Hobie laughs. “Little mate can’t stand that he’s not gettin’ all the attention,” he says, taking one of his hands away from you to pet him. You yawn, and Hobie looks at you. “I think it’s time for you to get some more rest, my love. Your body’s goin’ through a lot right now,” he says, and you nod.

He moves to get up, but you tug on his arm. “You need rest, too, Hobart,” you say, and he grins. “Are you sayin’ you want me to stay?” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “On second thought…” you start and his smile falters. “No, wait,” he says a bit too quickly, causing you to laugh. “Get your ass in here before I change my mind,” you say, and he slips underneath the covers. He maneuvers you so that he’s underneath your body, and he holds you tightly to his chest. You bury your face in his neck, and he smiles. “You’re lucky I got my durag on,” he mumbles, and you hum in response, already starting to feel the effects of sleep overtake you. “Y’know, I thought you’d be a little more upset with me,” he admits, and you sleepily shake your head. “Death is inevitable, Hobie. Instead of giving into the inevitability of the end, I like to see the beauty in it. Although my life as I knew it has died, a new life is beginning, and I think that’s beautiful,” you mutter. He grins. “You are such a fuckin’ goth,” he mumbles, and you playfully smack his chest. “Maybe I was wrong before...”

“What’s that?”

“Maybe not all people are selfish assholes. I know one who isn’t,” you trail off, falling asleep. He softly kisses the top of your head, “Maybe I was wrong about some shit, too, my love.”

Shadow curls up beside Hobie, and he places one hand on the cat while the other keeps you pressed against him. He’s so tired, that he doesn’t move at all during the sleep that he gets, which is unusual for him. But at this moment, he’s never felt more content. Just him, you, and Shadow in yours and his home.

He could get used to this.

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『 tag list 』

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*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( in the least conceited way, a lot of people have been asking and some of the requests get lost because my brain short circuits when i see how many people are following along. feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #spiderpunk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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bareee · 18 days

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Some people talk to much(Full comic) part 2

Done! *head bang* God my hand ahhhh! There’s the full comic idea I had with the burnin’ manors and Florrick. Mark bein sassy and mad and then asked to help again, what’s new honestly. But so starts the beginnin of one of Mark’s backstory complications as well~

NOW I can get to the next midnight question wooooo! But first, sleep is desperately needed

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macaronijail06 · 9 months

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And when the earth is tremblin' on some new beginnin' With the same sweet shock of when Adam first came

#orv #omniscient reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #yjh #yoo junghyuk #Yoo junghyuk birthday #Happy yoo junghyuk day #Let’s pretend I didn’t forget to post it here #Old man yjh

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

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Slow Hands | Chapter 11

“a wolf in sheep’s clothing”

A/N: another emotionally charged chapter that has left me in a puddle of my own tears 😔 there’s only 2 chapters left (crazy, I know) writing this story has truly been a journey for me, and it’s bittersweet knowing that it’s ending soon. As always, thank you for reading, and thank for betaing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

~word count: 6.2k~

Summary: Angie goes missing, another letter, and two brothers letting the past go.

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: ‼️DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping of a minor character, minor character death, talk of suicide, anxiety/PTSD episode, angst, grief, guilt, emotionally charged conversations, protective!joel, Tommy is a girl dad in this universe (not canon but I hope it becomes canon) no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

A wolf in sheep’s clothing: someone who hides malicious intent under the guise of kindliness

They moved like cloaked shadows in the night. Swift, sure-footed, silent. Cody couldn’t let him down. And with Joel’s blood still crusted underneath his fingernails, and spattered on his shirt, he led the way to Angie’s quiet home.

She put up a valiant fight, nails acting as claws swiping through the air. She didn’t want to die, not yet, not now. Please, just one more day.

Her nails made contact with his cheek, slicing through the skin, drawing blood to the surface. Her screams died in her throat when his ready fist made contact with her fragile face. Out cold. Still.

Cody is messy, always has been. It’s a detrimental price to pay, but he can’t let him down.

Her door is left ajar. Sticking out like a sore thumb come morning.

When she awakes, her head throbs, it pulses. Her eyes blink, stinging with pain as she becomes conscious of her new surroundings.

The woods.

Two men are arguing as she struggles to move, only to find that her wrists and ankles have been bound together with rope that has been tied so tightly, it bites into her skin.

“You’re a fuckin’ fool, Cody!” The man yells, striking Cody across the face.

He’s an abuser. He’s been one since the end of the world. Maybe even longer, but he can’t seem to remember the moment he chose the path to abuse. To harm. To kill. It doesn’t matter, he has no means to atone himself.

“A goddamn, trigger-happy, fool!” He hits him again, shoving Cody against a nearby tree. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea the risks you’ve just put out on the line?! Huh! Do you?! I asked you to do one fuckin’ thing! One goddamn fuckin’ thing! You’ve always been messy, Cody. Fuckin’ never cleanin’ up after yourself!” He yells in his face, and Angie’s blood runs cold.

She knows that voice.

She knows.

“I thought—I thought you would be proud of me!” Cody shoves back, body switching to defense mode in an instant. “I TOOK DOWN THE FUCKIN’ MOOSE!”

The other man sneered, shaking his head, and laughed. It's a bone chilling laugh. Cruel. Unkind. Sadistic.

“You fuckin’ moron. You didn’t kill him.” He scoffs.

“That old fuck is dead. I killed him!” He insists.

“Killed him? No. Wounded him? Sure. It takes a hell of a lot more to take down a moose than just kicking him in the fuckin’ head!” The other man places his hands on his hips, his tone is nothing short of condescending. “What do you think is going to happen when he wakes up, Cody? He’s gonna come straight for you.” He jabbed at his chest.

“He’s dead. I killed him. I killed Joel Miller.” Cody’s voice wavers the more he thinks back to the moment his boot connected with Joel’s face. Was he dead? He appeared to be. He must be. He has to be.

“Ah. Are your actions catching up to you? Are you beginnin’ to realize that you have managed to jeopardize everythin?’” The other man scoffs before his attention is drawn to Angie.

“You were supposed to bring her to me. You were supposed to bring her home, where she belongs. I asked you to do one fuckin’ thing, Cody. And you failed. You failed me.” He tsks, tongue in cheek. He crouches down in front of Angie’s trembling frame. She tries to escape, but there’s nowhere for her to run. She’s ensnared, and running out of time. The backside of his hand strokes against her cheekbone with a horrid softness that is anything but soft.

“Instead, you bring me this pathetic excuse of a life. Angie, isn’t it? What a doll. I really enjoyed your cookin’, sweetheart. I think I’ll miss that the most.” He chuckles, leaning in as his nose brushes through tendrils of her hair. “I could..keep you alive.” He whispers as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “I could..but then that wouldn’t teach Cody a lesson, now would it?”

“Please—please. I—I—don’t want to die. You don’t..have to kill me.” She pleads, eyes squeezing shut.

“I don’t.” He agrees. “I don’t have to kill you, Angie. I could keep you as my own. You could replace her, and the constant hole I feel in my pathetic heart after she left me. “I was so good to her, Angie. So good..and she left.” He sighed almost as if he was feeling a moment of empathy for what he was about to do.

“I—I could replace her. I could. Please. I would never leave you. You don’t have to kill me. I’ll stay with you. I’ll—I’ll love you the way that she couldn’t.” Angie begs, and this is his favorite part. The moment where his victim begins to believe that he’ll spare them, that he’s not really a monster. That they’ll live to see another day.

“Oh, Angie, you haven’t really been payin’ attention at all, have you?” He sneers. “You’ll never replace her. You stupid fuckin’ bitch.” He spits, and a glob of saliva lands on her trembling cheek.

He looks over his shoulder at Cody just as a flash of lightning strikes above and illuminates his face in bright light. He faces her once more, fingers brushing across her face. He’s gone in for the kill, like a snake attacking in the grass.

She pleads for her life one more time. Hoping, begging..until it’s over.

He snaps her neck swiftly, in a blink of an eye as her body falls to the ground with a sickening thud. A single tear rolls down her cheek, landing in the dirt below. Her eyes are unmoving, body twitching, and then going still. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt her now.

She’s disregarded like trash on the street, nothing more than a sack of flesh in his eyes.

Raindrops begin to steadily fall as he stands above her body looking down at it with disgust. “Get the fuck back to Jackson, and bring her to me.” It’s a threat, and Cody knows what his fate will be if he returns without you.

When 20 minutes turned into an hour, that’s when the fear began to trickle in and fester like an open untreated wound. Ellie hadn’t returned, and there was no sign of Joel. You were alone and beginning to imagine the worst possible scenarios in your head. Ellie told you to stay inside, keep the doors locked, but that prodding voice inside of your head was growing louder, and louder. You could only tune its harshness out for so long before you would inevitably snap.

Ellie isn’t coming back.

She’s out there all alone, and you’re gonna continue to be a sitting duck?

Joel’s dead, I bet. He’s dead, and it’s probably all your fault. How’s that make you feel inside, Beanie? You killed them. You killed them both.

You had picked the skin around your cuticles to the point where they were raw and bleeding. Joel and Ellie were okay. Nothing bad happened to them. That voice inside of your head wasn’t true. None of it was true. It couldn’t be.

Ellie said she’d be back. She’s okay. Nothing happened to her. She found Joel and they’re on their way back now.

I didn’t kill them.

They’re alive.

Are you sure? Let’s face it, something happened to them both. The two people that you love the most in this world are dead and it’s all your fault.

Your fault.

Your—

“I DIDN’T KILL THEM!” You yelled suddenly as your emotions bubbled over.

It felt like every wall in Joel’s home was beginning to close in on you as if you were an unsuspecting bug that was about to be crushed under the weight of a shoe.

It felt like all the air in your lungs had been snatched, and you were suffocating, clawing for air.

That’s how you found yourself stumbling out back onto the porch, hunched over, heaving with tears streaming down your cheeks. The voice inside of your head only seemed to grow louder and louder as images of Joel and Ellie laying in a pool of their own blood flashed cruelly in your mind. You blinked, and blinked, and blinked, but the picture was as clear as day, and it wasn’t going away.

You don’t remember how you ended up in Joel’s shed surrounded by the comforting aroma of sawdust, pine, and Joel. He cloaked your senses like a warm hug, or a hot cup of tea with honey soothing your throat. You collapsed into his chair, hugging yourself for dear life, and then, the voice was silent and you were still, frozen on the spot, numbed.

What the fuck am I supposed to tell Beanie?

Hey, so I don’t want you to freak out or anything, but Joel got his ass handed to him, and he’s beat up pretty bad.

When I found him..I thought he was dead.

But don’t worry, he’s not gonna die! He’s fine. Joel is fine.

Ellie’s footsteps were trailing a good foot behind Jesse’s and Liam’s. The weight of her own gun felt heavy in her palm. Rain had steadily begun to fall and soaked the dry earth beneath her worn down converse. Tears began to blur her vision when images of Joel lying in a pool of his own blood attacked her mind.

“El?” It was Jesse. “Y’okay?” He had slowed his footsteps so she could catch up. And when she was close enough, he reached his hand out and gently squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m fine, Jesse.” She went to brush his hand off her shoulder but refrained because she knew he was just trying to comfort her.

“Are you sure? Tommy didn’t really tell Liam and I what happened but—”

“What did he tell you?”

Jesse paused and let out a sigh. His eyes met hers in a brief stare. “Somethin’ along the lines of Joel getting the shit beat out of him in public. He didn’t say by whom.”

I know who the fuck did it.

“Yeah. Some fucking cowards probably jumped him.” Yeah, some cowards alright.

“He’ll be alright though, right?”

“Joel is as stubborn as a mule, Jesse. He’s going to be fine.”

Jesse nodded and took a step back to give her some space. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

When they reached the front steps to Joel’s home, Ellie was nudged out of the way when she reached for the door handle. Liam muttered under his breath about it being some standard protocol to which she scoffed under her breath, withdrew her gun and shoulder checked him for good measure.

Ellie’s blood ran cold when she did not immediately find you on the couch in the same spot that she left you.

“Fuck.” She muttered under her breath, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?” Jesse came up beside her, his own gun drawn at his side.

“I left Beanie right here, Jesse. Right here on the fucking couch!”

If anything happens to her, Joel will never forgive me. Never.

“You’re sure you left her on the couch, Ellie?” Liam interjected, pushing past both of them.

“You think I’d fuckin’ lie about that? I left her on the couch.” She snapped back. “I told her to stay here and keep the doors locked.”

“I’ll check upstairs. Liam, you and Ellie check the kitchen and do not go outside without me.” Jesse said firmly. He was looking right at Liam with a stern glare.

Liam was half tempted to flip him off but refrained from doing so. It wouldn’t have been worth it in the end.

He and Ellie did a full sweep of the kitchen and lower level while Jesse went upstairs and checked every room.

The trio met back at the foot of the staircase.

“The only place we haven’t checked yet is Joel’s shed outback.” Ellie said with a huff to mask her nerves. “She wouldn’t just..up and leave for no fucking reason. Unless someone was here, or she was suspecting someone.”

“Joel’s shed? Why the hell would she go there?” Liam scoffed under his breath. “Ellie, we sweeped the whole fuckin’ house. She’s not here.”

“Fuck you, man. Don’t pick up an attitude with me. Do you have any idea what that woman means to Joel? Huh? Course you don’t. If something happened to her—”

“El, breathe.” Jesse said calmly. “We’ll do a sweep out back, okay? I’m sure she’s there. I’m sure she’s fine.” He reassured her.

Ellie inhaled a shaky breath of air and nodded her head in Jesse’s direction. Once she was regrouped enough, she took the lead and headed towards the back door with Liam and Jesse in tow.

The rain was coming down with a blinding force now and obstructed Ellie’s vision momentarily as she cautiously approached Joel’s shed. A bright flash of lightning illuminated her face before it was casted back into darkness.

Please. Please, be in there. Please be safe, Beanie.

Jesse and Liam had their guns aimed at the ready when Ellie grasped the shed door handle and pushed it open.

You were caught like a deer in headlights when Ellie, Jesse, and Liam came into view. Your hands trembled around the loose grip you had on Joel’s letter to Bill and Frank.

Ellie immediately lowered her gun to her side with a visible sigh of relief and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. “Beanie? Fuck. What are you doing out here? I thought I told you to stay inside. I—I thought something had happened to you!”

The look on your face is all Ellie needs to understand that you don’t remember.

“You don’t remember anything..do you, Beanie?” Her tone is soft compared to the way that her heart is beating out of her chest.

You shake your head and bite down harshly on your lower lip as you look between Ellie, and the two men beside her. You’ve seen Jesse around before, but Liam is unfamiliar.

“Can you guys..give us some privacy?” Ellie speaks quietly to Jesse and Liam.

“Holler if you need us. Okay, El? We’ll be outside.”

“It’s fuckin’ raining. We’re gonna get—” Liam’s bitching is cut off by Jesse forcefully grabbing his bicep and pulling him back outside into the pouring rain. He pulls the door shut behind him leaving you and Ellie in total privacy.

“Ellie..where’s Joel? What happened?” You questioned immediately and Ellie let out a deflated sigh. Her shoulders slumped in a defeated motion.

“He’s..hurt, Beanie. But Tommy’s with him. He’ll be alright. He always comes back home. Even when he’s hurt, nothing stands in his way.” Ellie’s doing her best to reassure both herself and you. She walks further into the shed and finds herself sitting along the edge of Joel’s workbench next to you.

“What happened to him, Ellie?” You look over at her, eyes glassy with tears that are threatening to spill. “How do you know for sure that he’ll..come home?”

“I don’t know exactly what happened to him. I found Tommy first, and he discovered Joel laying in the dirt outside of your home. He was covered in blood. I—I thought he was dead, but Tommy reassured me that he wasn’t.”

She rests her hands along the dust covered table and looks down at her lap. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she looks over at you. “Because..before Joel took me to the Fireflies base, there was a time where I thought he was gonna die on me. I remember bein’ so afraid of losin’ him. I didn’t know what the fuck I was gonna do without him.”

She swallows hard and blinks back her own tears. “He tried to push me away. Told me to go back to Tommy’s and leave him to die. I refused. So, I did everything I could to help him get better. His wound was infected and I knew he needed medicine fast. I risked my life for him not knowin’ if he would make it.”

You reach for her hand and entwine your fingers just as her tears begin to fall. “Somethin’ terrible..happened to me after I got Joel the medicine he needed. And I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again, truthfully.” She sniffled and squeezed your hand gently.

“I remember stumbling outside in the snow covered in blood, and he was there. I thought he was a ghost, Beanie. But he was there, and he was holding me.”

“Ellie..” you trailed off.

Your teary eyed gazes met as the rain pelted down along the roof of the shed.

“Do you need a hug, kiddo?” You asked softly. Ellie was like the daughter you never had, and like Joel, you’d put your life out on the line to keep her safe. It’s what empaths do. They put others feelings above their own. And right now, Ellie needs you.

“Yes.” She murmured. “I need that more than ever right now.”

You set the letter down off to the side and stand up just as Ellie slips down from where she’s sitting on the edge of the table. You gather her up into your arms and hold her tight. You didn’t need the full story to understand what happened to her before Joel brought her to the Fireflies. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m here for you, El.”

She wrapped her arms around you with her tears soaking into your shirt while you rubbed soothing circles into her back with your freehand cupping the back of her head, cradling it gently.

You held each other like this as the storm outside roared on. Ellie was the one to ultimately pull away from the hug and quickly wiped at her eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispered, “I really needed that.”

“Of course, El. I’m always here for you.”

“What’s this?” She gestured to the letter resting along the table and reached for it.

“It’s another one of Joel’s letters.”

“Joel’s been..writing letters? To whom?” She picked it up gently.

“To those he loves most.” You said softly.

“Can we..read it together?”

You nod and pull the chair up closer while Ellie begins to read the letter out loud.

Bill and Frank,

By now I’m sure you realized that I found your letter. I know that you and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but I did consider you a friend. Someone who I respected, trusted, and in a way, admired. I never got the chance to tell you just how much I respected you, Bill. I think back to the first time we met, where yours and mine clicked instantly. I don’t think I ever saw Tess smile as much as she did that day. You and I were both pretty pissed off about it, huh? But hey, whatever makes those we love happy, right?

You were one hell of a man, and I’m honored that I had the pleasure of knowing you, even if the time was cut short.

So, I’m gonna tell you something because I know that you’ll understand.

I found two people in this shit-hole world that mean somethin’ to me. I lost a daughter, but I gained another. She was just cargo to transport to the Fireflies, but as much as I saved her, she saved me. Her name is Ellie, and I think you woulda loved this kid. I pushed away feeling anything for so fuckin’ long, and then she came into my life and showed me that I still have a heart. Her and I? We’ve been through hell, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep my kid safe.

And then, I fell in love with this woman who has a heart of gold and a kindness that I never thought I’d feel again. She reminds me of Frank. Artistic, soft-spoken, and this breath of fresh air that can melt even coldest of hearts. Her name is Beanie, like coffee beans. She and I actually briefly knew one another in Austin. She owned this coffee shop, Cuppa Smiles and every-time I’d come in with Sarah, she’d put a stupid little smiley face on my morning latte. Well, we met again…and I fuckin’ love her silly little latte art. She’s my person, Bill. And even though I feel I am undeserving to love someone as beautiful as her, I’m so fucking grateful. This is all to say you’re right. You and I do have a purpose in this world, and that is to protect the ones we love. To keep them safe. And god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way, right?

Godspeed.

-Joel

By the end of the letter you and Ellie are both feeling new waves of emotions. Joel Miller loves you, and you’ve known it for a while now, but to see it on paper? Well, there’s really no feeling to describe it. To love and to be loved, is one of life’s greatest treasures.

“Did you ever get to meet Bill and Frank?”

“No, but I do know for a fact that Bill was a fuckin’ badass. He had a whole wall of guns in his house!” She couldn’t help but giggle at the memory of Joel grumpily telling her no when she implied on taking one of the guns for herself. Dude. There’s a wall of them.

You could picture Joel’s face now, and it too made you giggle because oftentimes he was rather grumpy over just about anything.

“Oh my god, you shoulda see how much of a mean motherfucker Joel was when I first met him!” She’s truly reminiscing now and there’s that childlike wonder to her again. All giggles, cheeks stained with tears, but she’s smiling a big toothy grin.

“Why don’t you tell me all about the first time you met Joel?”

And so she does, starting with the first interaction where Joel basically threw her into a wall in front of Marlene and Tess.

Well, I guess that’s what I got for spookin’ him. Shit really fuckin’ hurt, but I’m glad he and Tess showed up when they did. Who knows, maybe you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now if they hadn’t.

I’m really glad Joel and Tess showed up when they did too.

“Hey, Beanie?” Ellie suddenly asks as the rain is beginning to lighten up for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Did you grow up listening to Linda Rondstadt?”

“I did.”

“What was your favorite song? If you had to pick one?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one, El. Long Long Time.”

She just smiles.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Joel’s eyes are barely open and his face is visibly swollen and puffy. But he’s alive, he’s breathing, and that’s all Tommy can really focus on.

“Joel? Hey, how we feelin?’”

Joel cracks a smile, a painful one that has him wincing from the minimal movement. “Like I jus’ got hit by a fuckin’ bus.” He attempts to joke, but it falls flat when he realizes that Tommy is holding the letter.

“Yeah, well, y’look like dogshit, Joel. Doc said—”

“Don’t give a fuck what Doc said, Tommy.” He doesn’t mean to be short, not really, he’s just in a lot of pain.

Tommy falls silent. His eyes cast downwards and focus on the words written in the letter. The fluorescent light catches Tommy’s face at just the right angle for Joel to see the dried tears along his cheekbones.

“Tommy..I—I saw Sarah.” Joel’s voice cracks as the two brothers briefly make eye contact.

“Whad’ya mean you saw her, Joel?”

“She came to me in my dreams. She had daisies in her hair..She looked so beautiful. My baby girl.”

Tommy rests the letter along his lap and reaches for Joel’s hand. He gives it a firm, yet reassuring squeeze. His freehand immediately rises and he quickly wipes away fresh tears that have begun to fall. “She was so beautiful, Joel.”

There’s a moment's silence sans Joel’s labored breaths, and Tommy’s sniffles that fill the stagnant, all-too clean air.

“I thought..you were dead, Joel. All I saw was you layin’ in the dirt. Not movin.’ Covered in blood, and all I could think—And then I saw the gun, and for a minute I thought that maybe—” he takes a shaky inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. “But then I couldn’t find the entry wound, and I felt so relieved. So fuckin’ relieved.”

“Tommy, after all these years? After proving to you that I’d do anything to keep us alive? Why would your first thought be that I finished myself? Ellie needs me. I’d never do that to her or to you. Why would I cross the country to find you to only then shoot myself?” Joel doesn’t mean to be so harsh with his words, but despite all the years that have gone by, that guilt lives freely on his conscience. It’s plaguing, and reminds him of a scab that never quite properly heals because he’s picked it over so many times. It’s hammered into his skull with a rusted nail.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—”

Selfish.

A man loses his only daughter in a brutal way, and he’s got nothing to live for. No path guiding him. No light at the end of the tunnel. No hope. Nothing. It was ripped from him the same way the rain of bullets ripped through her body.

“I have everythin’ to live for now, Tommy.”

It hits Tommy like a freight train at maximum speed. It thrashes like a fish breached on land, depleted of oxygen, slowly dying, baking in the sun. His feelings bubble over, and he doesn’t try to hold them at bay.

“Because the day you tried to kill yourself still haunts me. I couldn’t think rationally in the moment because I was brought right back to Texas. Right back to your home. Right back to the second I heard the gunshot and your body hittin’ the fuckin’ floor.” Tommy whispers the last part as tears blur his vision.

Joel reaches for his hand, knuckles bruised and crusted in blood and dirt. His body aches all over, but he pushes through the pain and grabs Tommy’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere, Tommy.” His words are firm and hold true.

Tommy can only nod as he glances down at the letter once more. More tears have begun to flood the paper and blur Joel’s penmanship, but even though ink isn’t permanent, the words read like a script in his brain.

“When..did you write this letter?” Tommy finally asks.

“Shortly after I wrote the letter to Tess and after what happened at the Tipsy Bison.”

“And you meant every word in this?..”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re right. I did grow resentful. I couldn’t understand why you thought that..killin’ yourself was the only option. As if somehow that would bring Sarah back. I did think you were being selfish, and that was wrong of me. I know that hurt you more than you’re willin’ to admit. And I’m sorry, Joel. For all of it.”

“Y’gotta understand that I did think that it was the only option I had. I fuckin’ lost my daughter. She died in my arms. I was a shell of a man, and you—“ he took a deep breath as his tears began to freely fall. “Y’made me feel so guilty after. So fuckin’ guilty. The guilt consumed me. I knew that you weren’t sleepin’ much after that. Always thinkin’ that I’d attempt it again. Always on edge because of me.”

“It felt like we were walkin’ on eggshells around each other for years. There were so many times that I wanted to bring it up and apologize, but fuck, as if we had any time for that, right? Tess and I..we talked about it once, in private. She told me I should jus’ rip the bandaid off, but I never did.” Tommy admitted.

“Yeah, and then you left me for the fuckin’ Fireflies after everythin’ I did to keep you safe. To keep you alive, you left. Always wanted to be the fuckin’ hero. Didn’t matter what I said, you weren’t gonna listen.” Joel snapped.

“I jus’ wanted to try and make a difference in the shitty world that we live in! To erase injustice and make up for all the shit we did. All the people we murdered. I didn’t want to live with—”

“Didn’t want to live with knowin’ that there’s blood on your hands, Tommy? Those things we did? We did them to survive. It was either them or us. I have my regrets too, y’know.”

“We killed innocent people, Joel.” Tommy said somberly.

“Why did you cut fuckin’ communication with me? Huh? What was the reason? I’m your fuckin’ family. Your flesh and blood. And while you were livin’ all cushy with your new wife, bacon, and a warm fuckin’ bed, I was scared shitless that my brother was dead.”

“if I tell you the truth, you’re going to hate me.”

“I’m your brother, Tommy. I could never hate you. Jus’ tell me the reason. I don’t want a bullshit excuse. I want the fuckin’ truth.”

“Maria had some influence on my decision. She reassured me that cutting communication off with you would maybe be for the best. It was selfish of me, Joel. I just never expected—”

“Me to come fuckin’ lookin’ for you? Nothin’ was gonna get in my way of findin’ you, Tommy.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Look, it was gettin’ to the point that everytime we’d talk, the conversation was always just so fuckin’ negative. That shit started to really eat away at me. Maria started to notice how it was affectin’ me, and she suggested that maybe...I was holdin’ on too much. At the time it felt right to cut contact off with you.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Tommy, the world fuckin’ ended. What the hell was I supposed to be positive about, huh? Christ! The only positive thing in my life outside of Tess was knowin’ that you were alive! And then you took that from me too. I swear, that woman had rose colored glasses on the second she fuckin’ met you.” He snapped.

Tommy could already feel himself recoiling from his brother's words, and that utter feeling of shame came trickling in and knocking at the door. “I know I took that from you, Joel. I swear it wasn’t done outta malice.”

“No. You just wanted to move on with your life and I was holdin’ you back. The second you met Maria, fell in love, and got everythin’ you ever wanted, you pushed me away. Your own goddamn brother.”

“And I feel fuckin’ shameful for my decisions! The second you fuckin’ showed up here outta the blue, I felt that shame. I’m sorry..for all of it. But I’m tired of feelin’ this way, ain’t you?”

“Of course I’m fuckin’ tired of feelin’ this way, Tommy. Half the time I don’t even feel like I belong in this community. That I’m always gonna be an outsider. And I think your wife is partially to blame. I respect Maria, I really do. But she ain’t have any rose colored glasses on when it comes to me. I think that’s the most frustratin’ bit. Is that your wife judges me for the things I did to keep us alive, yet she refuses to acknowledge all the fucked up shit, and all the people you killed, Tommy.”

“I know you and Maria ain’t ever seen eye to eye. I don’t agree with the way she’s treated you either. She and I have talked about it. I’ve brought up how she treats you differently. I jus’ haven’t gotten through to her yet, but I’m workin’ on it. I can’t make her change her mind about you, but what I can do is defend you, tooth and fuckin’ nail. Jus’ like how I shoulda after the altercation at the Tipsy Bison.”

“I jus’ want you to feel…proud to be my brother again, Tommy. I don’t wanna keep walkin’ on eggshells and feelin’ like I ain’t belong in my own family. I love you so much, and I jus’—I want us to be okay. I don’t wanna fight anymore, I don’t wanna feel this resentment and guilt all the fuckin’ time. That’s why I’ve been writin’ these letters.. They’re healin’ me. They’re helpin’ me forgive.”

“Fuck.” Tommy sniffles. “You think I ain’t proud to be your brother, Joel? You’re still my fuckin’ hero, and you’re my fuckin’ family. My flesh and blood. I love you so much, and I’m sorry for hurtin’ you. I’m sorry for pushin’ you away. I’m sorry for bein’ selfish. For holdin’ so much resentment against you and the things we’ve done. I want us to be okay. I want us to be brothers again.”

“And I forgive you, Tommy. I’m sorry too. ‘M sorry for puttin’ you through hell. Shoulda apologized a long time ago.”

“We both should have. I never thought I would have the opportunity. I never thought I’d see you again.”

“You and me both.”

“Is..that why you ain’t really open to bein’ in Willow’s life? I try’n not bring her up because I know you’re still mournin, but it hurts that my brother doesn’t want to be involved in my daughter’s life.”

“Jealousy is a bitch, Tommy.” Joel said with a sigh. “Y’get to be a father to a little girl, and I lost mine. It ain’t right to you, or your daughter, but the grief still stings.”

“But Joel, you are a father. You might not be Ellie’s blood, but you’re her dad. I understand that you’re still grieving. Hell, I am too, but I want you to be in Willow’s life. I want you to be my daughter’s godfather..”

“..you want me to be her godfather? Tommy, I’d-I’d be honored.”

“Of course I do. I want that more than anythin.’”

“I wanna hug you, but everythin’ fuckin’ hurts.” Joel forces a laugh past his cracked lips. It comes out hoarse, rough around the edges.

Tommy hugs him anyway. It’s a gentle yet grounding caress and when the two brothers part, Joel knows he has to tell Tommy what really happened.

“Tommy.” He starts. His jaw ticks, nostrils flare. “It was Cody.”

Tommy’s blood runs cold. His fists clench, and his brows furrow. “What’re you talkin’ about, Joel?”

“Cody. He was outside of Beanie’s house. I saw him and immediately grew suspicious. He wasn’t alone. There were two other patrol guys with him. Alex and Oliver. There’s a whole fuckin’ pack of them. Cody and I got into it..he knocked me out.”

“They were lookin’ for Beanie?”

“Yes. But we ain’t have no tellin’ on how many of them there really are.” Joel gruffly said.

“Well, there’s four that we know of, right?” There was no time for Tommy to mourn this realization. Men that he trusted were just a bunch of wolves in sheeps clothing. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Pungent. Betrayal. Anger.

“Tommy, we can’t lose focus, alright? We gotta bring these fuckers to justice. You and me. You want your daughter growin’ up in a world where sick fucks get away with shit undetected? You wanna be a hero, right? You wanna make sure your baby girl grows up only knowin’ love and safety. Cody thought he could bring down a moose, but he’s in for a fuckin’ surprise. I say we pump ‘em full of lead.” For good fuckin’ measure.

“I’ll be damned if I let her grow up in a world livin’ in fear with men who would jump at the opportunity to hurt her. We need to alert Maria immediately. I wanna do more than just pump ‘em full of lead. I wanna make them fuckin’ suffer.”

Ah. There he is, there’s the Tommy that I know.

Joel was already getting ready to swing his legs over the side of the bed when a very exasperated Jesse appeared outside the door. His cheeks were flushed, and it looked like he was barely holding it together.

“Jesse? What’re you doin’ here? Did Ellie make it home safe?” Tommy asked as he stood up from Joel’s bedside in a haste.

“She’s fine. Liam and I walked her home and then we found Beanie.”

“Found Beanie? What the hell does that mean, Jesse? Y’better start talkin’ or so help me–” Joel was cut off swiftly.

“She’s okay, Joel. Ellie and Beanie are fine. But Tommy, Maria is lookin’ for you. Angie’s missing. She didn’t show up to her breakfast shift, and it looks like someone broke into her home. We suspect that foul play was involved, and Maria is calling for an emergency council meeting.”

Tommy and Joel slowly looked over at one another. Angie was missing. Jackson was no longer safe, and it was up to the two brothers to protect the community, and those they loved most. Tommy nodded in understanding, and it was as if he was reading Joel’s mind in real time.

“Looks like we got a meetin’ to get to.”

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hyuuukais · 2 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, mention of cheating, yn lowkey overthinking

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER NINE -> IS THIS A DATE? (partially written! wc:1.2k)

There's a knock at your door followed by silence while you internally debate whether or not you should open it, or if you should pretend you aren't home. As far as you know, no one saw you come in, just heard you. The atmosphere was suffocating, heavy. This had to be your fault. You shouldn't have pressed, you shouldn't have-

"Y/n?" Minho's voice comes from behind the wooden barrier. "I know you're in there."

"Sorry, Y/n isn't available! Only her twin sister who did nothing wrong and totally isn't stressing!"

No response.

With a sigh, you get up to open your door, Doongie running off your bed and back into your closet. You open the door, but your eyes are glued to the floor, unable to face the man in front of you. The door is only open a crack, just enough for him to see your face, and you, his. His arms are crossed, body tense.

"Have you seen Soonie, Doongie, or Dori?" Minho asks curtly.

"Um, yeah, Doongie is in my closet-"

"What?" Minho tries to push past your door, but you're able to keep it mostly closed. Your room was currently a mess, no doubt a reflection of your mind the past few weeks. "Why is he in your closet?"

With a light shove, he makes his way in and moves quickly toward your closet opposite your bed. You watch as he slides the curtain away, your lack of a closet door making you shrink a bit into yourself. To be fair, it was like that when you moved in, so obviously the boys knew about it already. Still, you couldn't help feeling a tinge of embarrassment, not to mention the fact most of the content in there is strewn across your floor.

A small meow is heard from behind the curtain, Minho's arm outstretched. His shoulders seem to be a little more relaxed as he stands back to his full height, finally taking in your room with a low whistle. Now you cross your arms.

"If you're going to judge, you can leave," you huff, but then remember the reason he's probably upset in the first place. Your face flushes. "Oh, and I wanted to say I'm really, really sorry."

"For...?"

"You know what for!" You move to the edge of your bed, playing with the corner of a blanket on the verge of falling off. "In the group chat, I shouldn't have pried. Obviously you don't owe telling me anything, which I know you know, but still. I guess I was just shocked? Surprised? Whatever? That's totally messed up by the way, having a secret husband. I mean, who does that? Seriously, who does that?"

"My ex, apparently." Minho sits at the end of your bed, grabbing the blanket as it falls to the ground.

Gently, he folds it up and replaces it at the end he's sitting on, getting up and doing the same to another half under your bedframe.

"Well, your ex needs to learn what commitment is then." He grabs the half empty laundry basket from under you windowsill. "Mine too."

"Do you know if he cheated on you before?" Minho asks, picking up a few shirts abandoned next to the basket.

"I- he-" You stutter, bringing your knees up to your chin as you lean back against the headboard. "He loved me."

"That doesn't answer the question." He puts the basket down, grabbing a small pile of clothing from beside your bed on the opposite side you sit on.

"Don't tell anyone," you whisper, ashamed. "Once, but it was right at the beginning of our relationship and I don't think we were even technically official yet since he seemed so unbothered when I walked in on them together. After that I had a conversation with him about what we were to each other, and he hasn't cheated since. I mean, he has now, but not counting that."

The laundry basket is full, Minho placing it outside of your door. Next on his list are dishes, beginning to make a stack of plates and mugs on the dresser by your door. There aren't many, but enough to be a problem. Enough to be overwhelming.

"Back to the point, I never should have asked about anything." You rub a hand down your face. "I was being stupid."

"No, you were curious," Minho says. "But you're right in thinking you shouldn't have asked."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you going to apologize as much as you thanked me?" He tosses a missed sock at you, hitting you in the knee.

"S-" You freeze, making eye contact with him as he places the last mug aside. "Forget what I was about to say."

A small smile tugs on his mouth as he leaves your room. He's back in record time with a broom and dustpan in his hands. It's only now that you realize what he's been doing for you and you jump up, grabbing his wrist to halt his sweeping.

"Stop! You don't need to clean for me, I can do it myself." You attempt to take the broom, but he switches it to the other hand. "Please. Why are you doing this?"

"Because once this place is a little more cleaned up, you are going to help me find my cats." Minho finishes sweeping the little pile of dirt and dust.

"So this was for a favour?" You ask. "I would have helped you anyway. But what do you mean by 'find my cats'? Are they missing? What happened? How would they get out?"

"You tell me," he says, placing the broom against the wall by your door and heading out. You follow him to the back door, slipping on some sandals before walking out to the balcony. "The door was left open, so I have to assume they went out this way. Ah, I'm going to kill Han."

"Han? Don't kill Han. Why would you kill Han?"

"He left the door open," Minho starts up the staircase leading up to the roof.

The way the roof access was connected to your balcony confused you, but you assumed it came with the apartment. You'd only been up there once since moving in to water some plants at Han's request since he'd been gone all day and hadn't gotten the chance. A light breeze hit your face as you stepped onto the roof, scanning for any sign of cats.

"There!" You jog across the roof to the small garden where Dori sits amongst tomatoes. "Come here you."

Dori stretches out, emerging from the plants to headbutt the hand you stick out. He rubs against your crouched knees purring up a storm, stepping up half onto your leg to ask for pats. You giggle, rubbing his soft cheeks and watching as he lifts his head up, giving him some chin rubs before picking him up.

When you turn, you see Minho with Soonie cradled in his arms like a baby. He's not facing you completely, but you can see him pointing a finger at Soonie and scolding the cat for scaring him like that. Soonie nudges his finger, giving a small lick. Minho shakes his head smiling, taking a small treat from his back pocket. Your heart stutters, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest as you watch.

notes -> so soobin, huh?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #stray kids smau #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know smau #lee minho smau #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x fem reader #lee minho x fem reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #smau #social media au

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midnightcrw · 4 months

Text

Running away

Chapter 6

Opia

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: Life really had it in for you. Just moving to a new apartment seemed to unleash a brand new hell

Warnings: non (please, tell me if there actually is anything triggering)

a/n: It's been a while since I've continued this story. So please tell me if I messed up anything storyline-wise, as I really hate rereading my own stories (it just gives me second-hand embarrassment). But I still hope that you all will like it.

"Laswell?"

The moment, her name left your mouth, you were about to slam the door shut. Your hand made its way to the door handle, ready to yank it shut. However, before the door could yield to your command, her hand intervened, stopping the impending closure with a firm grip.

"Running away won't make it disappear," her voice, a resonant sound, cut through the charged atmosphere. Her confident stare bored into you, as if challenging the very notion of avoidance. Laswell was no stranger to confrontation, a fact you knew all too well.

Ignoring any potential response, she invited herself in, rounding the shards of shattered glass on the floor. "I will-" you began, wanting say you were going to throw the shards away first, but Laswell, was more about busisness as the words began to leave her mouth, taking control "You won't do anything. Sit down."

You sighed heavily, you hated it when she was demanding. Especially now, when she just invited herself into your apartment as if she owned it.

But nonetheless, you complied as you made your way to the sofa. Seeing you move, Laswell crouched down to gather the sharp remnants in her hand. And while she was distracted with that, you studied her.

The sight of her stirred a visceral reaction in you. You hadn't expected to see her again after what had happened. It only made sense that the two of you buried the past six feet into the ground. Yet, there she stood, invading your life once more.

And she looked the same as she did that day. Still blonde with a hint of brown mixed in, and the bangs didn't leave either. Only the length of her hair had changed. It had been much shorter then, just under her chin, and now it seemed much longer.

Her eyes were still as strikingly blue as you remembered them to be. Possessing an almost soul-penetrating quality, that's what it felt like to make eye contact with her.

The only differences, were the few wrinkles on her face, probably from all the stress of her life. Just like back then, you thought.

Laswell was known to work herself into the ground, far too goal driven to ever slow down. But that was, what made you two get along. You both shared a common drive, a relentless pursuit of success that, unbeknownst to you, painted a target on your backs.

Pretty much dangerous, though. People knew the two of you would do anything to succeed, and that was your doom. They had their eyes on you from day one, but you just didn't realise it. And the realisation itself came much too late.

"How have you been doing?" The sudden question yanked you out of your thoughts, prompting an involuntary flinch. Laswell had already finished and was sitting next to you at a cautious distance.

"Alright, I guess," you replied, not at all wanting to have a conversation with her, emotions stirred by her unexpected reappearance. You hadn't expected for her to come, and you were more than willing to show your distaste for it.

Hearing your reply, Laswell leaned back a bit, looking you up and down. You had changed since you last left, and it was more than obvious to her why you changed.

"I know that coming here without forewarning isn't pleasant, but I need to talk to you about something," her initial confidence faltered, replaced by a hint of uncertainty. She almost seemed afraid to tell you more, and that made you wary.

In the years of your acquaintance, Laswell had never been the one to show her insecurities, not even to you. "Laswell," you tried to interject, but she interrupted you, and you were beginning to get fed up.

"Call me Kate," and that made you feel some type of way. You hadn't called her by her first name in so long, and it brought back memories that you wanted to leave behind.

You enjoyed her company, you always have, but it's different now. You had cut off contact for a reason, and it seemed that no one would ever respect the boundary you had set. But you pulled yourself together, clenching your right hand into a fist as you let her speak.

Sighing heavily, she looked into your eyes "I know that you're probably going to get angry, but I need you to come back," that was it. Your eyes widened as you scoffed in shock and disbelief.

You could almost started to laugh, that's how hilarious it sounded. "Laswell," you began, dismissing her first name, "you came here just to tell me this? After all these years, you thought I'd return to that hellhole? I thought you knew me better."

Your words dripped with venom, each syllable an assertion of your resolve. "I-" she attempted to speak, only to be silenced by you.

"No, Laswell. I'm speaking now. You came here to bring me back, knowing how much I hate this fucking place. Every single day, I'm left with nightmares, and you walk in here as if you own this place.

I left for a reason. I told you to burn everything down for a reason. Do you know how pathetic it feels to endure each day, knowing it was my fault? Oh, of course you don't know, because all you care about is your profits.

The whole time we were working together, all you cared about was yourself and what you could get out of it." You ranted, almost breathlessly, as you suddenly got up from your seat and walked toward your closet.

Laswell didn't even make a single move in her seat, seemingly ashamed of herself. But you didn't care, you just wanted her gone, and when you finally found the box, you took it and walked towards her.

"Take it, you told me to keep the memories," presenting it to her with a forceful push as the box laid on her lap and you waited impatiently, wanting her to actually open it up and see what you had been carrying with you for years.

Tears welled up and blurred your vision as you blinked them away. Completely frustrated with everything as your hands trembled. "Open it," your voice broke in mid-sentence as you remained standing.

Even Laswell seemed to become emotional as she bit her lip, trying to remain calm. And with shaking hands, she slowly opened the box to look at the contents. You let her look while you averted your eyes and looked at Simon's jacket as you made your way to it.

The conversation was already too much for you, taking the black jacket into your hands as you made your way to your room. You only did this to get some distance from the current situation and for Laswell to take it all in.

The material of Simon's jacket, cradled in your hands, offered a brief respite as you laid it on your bed and looked at it. Memories of the rooftop lingered in the back of your mind. You still had to give it back to him, and you would do so today.

Breathing in and out slowly, you ran a hand over your face in frustration, a headache already making its presence known as you walked back into the living room.

Laswell's eyes scanned the contents of the box, her index finger touching its surface, almost as if to reassure herself, and when she heard your footsteps, her wavering blue eyes met yours upon your return, while you remained standing, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.

"How did you find me?" You asked quietly, leaning your head against the door frame. You had almost forgotten to ask the most important question, and it bothered you now. Even though you had made sure that no one could find you, Laswell still found her way to you, as if you hadn't moved several times across the country.

Laswell carefully placed the box on the coffee table, the lid resting beside it as the contents were exposed to anyone who wanted to take a look. "Just some research," she said, as if it were the easiest thing she had ever done.

Your nails dug themselves into your arms, probably leaving crescent moon shapes behind as your face grew stern, "Did you tell anyone?"

Your question almost made the woman sitting on your sofa laugh in mockery. She would never do that, and you knew it, but you could never be too careful. "Of course not. I came here on my own," her voice was serious, and she stood up as she approached you.

Your eyes never left her as you watched her hand take a card from her pocket, "Call me if you change your mind or just to discuss what this is about," she said as she took your right hand and placed it in your palm, conveying a silent plea.

With that, she made her way to the door to leave, and before she walked out, she muttered, "I missed you," and with that, she was gone.

You almost wanted to smash your head against the wall in frustration as you looked at the card. It had her name and phone number written on it, having already planned on giving you this as you looked at her handwriting.

It still looked the same, clean and neat as always. You felt the urge to throw it away, but you didn't. You took the card and slapped it unceremoniously on one of the shelves of your bookshelf, causing a few books to fall to the floor with a thud.

"Could this day get any worse?" You wondered in anger as you crouched down to put the books back in their place and heard a knock at your door.

"Come in!" You called, not wanting to walk to the door at all, expecting it to be Laswell, who had probably forgotten something. As you picked up a book, you heard the door open, but no footsteps.

With a furrowed brow, you looked over your shoulder and saw Simon standing next to your sofa. Surprised by his sudden appearance, your gaze dropped to the book in your hands. A blush of embarrassment colored your cheeks as you met his piercing brown eyes.

"You're probably here for your jacket. Sit down if you want, I'll get it once I put the books back on the shelf," you muttered as you picked up the books from the floor, only the sound of the sofa being crushed indicating that Simon had sat down.

It was quiet inside of your apartment, almost being uncomfortable as you had a frustrating conversation with Laswell and Simon coming in wasn't something you had planned at all.

Getting up from your position on the floor, you quickly put the books back on the shelf, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom with slow and steady steps.

It was the first time that Simon saw your apartment, he looked around the place to find you crouched on the floor and when you told him to sit down, he made his way to your sofa and complied.

His eyes wandered around the place and found their place on the box that laid open on the coffee table, he wanted to look away, he didn't want to pry into your private life, but he couldn't.

The box was filled, but there were two things that caught his eye, widening a fraction as he examined the pieces.

On top was a dog tag with your name engraved on it and a picture of you with some other people and a familiar face. You were dressed as people in his profession would be, and Laswell was standing next to you. Her arm was around your shoulders as you leaned against her with a smile on both your and her face.

The more he looked at the dog tag and the picture, the more his eyebrows furrowed as several questions found their way into his mind.

But before he could delve deeper into the box in front of him, your returning footsteps echoed through the room. With that, he rose, putting a respectful distance between himself and the box.

When you came back, you were surprised to find Simon's piercing brown eyes. He's really quiet when it comes to moving around, you thought.

Simon, dressed in his usual black attire. His hood cast a shadow, partially hiding features that held a peculiar allure. The mask that hid his slightly crooked nose and his full lips with the scar etched on the left side of his mouth. His face was still imprinted in your memory from the previous night, and you could not forget it.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you held up his jacket and muttered a "thank you" as he took it in his hands.

Simon nodded in subtle acknowledgement. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost examining you, before he left without saying a word. The door closed behind him, leaving a lingering sense of unresolved tension.

Taglist:

@ghostlythots

@kittyoonsstuff

@poohkie90

@gothgirl6-6-6

@jupiternighties

@lumineeye

@originaldeerhottub

@undercover-smutlover

@chloeforde

@nightlyvoids

@iiinkstain

@ihrtgw

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #cod x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x you #ghost imagine

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faecaptainofdreams · 7 months

Text

~Through the Nomad’s Eyes~

“It's not terribly often.

A few times a month, I'd say -- sometimes less.

Depends how much trouble I get in.

Day is dark with smoke, my vision is full of embers.

My eyes burn, the fires are hot.

Birds chirpin', people talkin' is replaced with screams.

Tall, proud buildings are suddenly collapsing.

I hear children cryin'...

I see dirt roads and pavement painted red.

Stalls and homes fall to stone and ash.

The smell is...indescribable.

Those screams...

It's unbelievable, what...godless sounds come out of a person, when they're bein' burned and mangled...

Or shot...

Or trampled...

Or crushed by debris...

The ground shakes, glass shatters.

It's pure chaos, but it's only a second.

Then, I blink my eyes...

And it's all over.

And my heart stops racin', and the ice in my veins melts.

'N I'm okay.

This doesn't usually happen when I'm somewhere peaceful.

Naw, it's usually when I'm gettin' myself into trouble helpin' folks.

Wherever there's a fire, when I hear screamin', when there's panic.

It affected me worse when I was younger, but I've learned how to push through it now.

It helps to remind myself that it's over, but...I know it'll always be with me.

I'll always be haunted by that day.

By the screams, and...by them gettin' quieter...

By the blood.

By the ash, the flames, the rumblin' of the earth.

By the empty vessels I climbed over -- bodies, people.

People someone loved.

Mothers.

Fathers.

Babies...

I'll always see those faces; sometimes when I close my eyes, they're lookin' back at me, hollow.

I knew some'a them...

People who took care'a me.

That day is the reason I look back, why I can't stay out'a harm's way.

Because I know what happens when hearts grow dark, what hurt and twisted people do to other people.

Maybe I can make a difference, maybe I can't, but I gotta try.

I want to prove that love, that patience and time, can change fate, can tame temper.

I know what it means to be helpless, and when I see someone else livin' that, it makes me ill.

I know that hurt people hurt people, that someone failed them, too.

When I see disaster, I gotta run to it.

I'm sorry...

But I gotta.

Because if I do nothin' even though I had the chance, then it's my fault.

It's not rational, but don't ask me to change...'cos I can't...

Don't feel sad for me, now.

In my heart, I really feel...good.

Yes, I hurt a lot, and I feel guilty.

I punish myself when I can't save somebody.

Sometimes I don't love myself like I should, I don't take care'a me.

Sometimes I think, "It shoulda been me."

Sometimes I feel...worthless...but I really know better.

If I didn't, I wouldn't feed and take care'a myself like I do, and play and have fun, right?

I like livin', I like bein' happy.

...

If I run into danger, and someone comes out alive or better off on the other end because of it, I've succeeded.

If I run into danger and all that happens is I got a whoopin', well...reckon I had it comin'.

Who am I to say what's what?

But yeah, generally, I feel good.

Minus the memories, the nightmares sometimes, I often sleep real good at night.

I can smile, and laugh play and sing and see what's beautiful in life.

This life is painful, and scary, but it's also miraculous.

We're all here on a whim; the odds of us existing are so against us, and yet here we stand.

A universe, cold and empty and quiet, full'a nothin'...

It's such a divine gift to be here, to learn and think and share life with others.

To make new life, to lay down past life, to cry and grow and nurture.

All from the same place, from dust to dust, to one day all return to that same place.

Ooh, it makes my hair stand up!

Doesn't it you?

I see fire...

I see blood...

I see death...

But when that passes, I see joy, and nature, and all of us together.

I see life blooming, new beginnin's unfolding.

I see us learning from what we live through.

The past haunts me, but I won't live in it.

I'll just look back at it -- and that's okay.

It's okay to look back.

I'll just let it inspire me.

Don't try to turn my head when ya see me lookin' over my shoulder.

It'll release me when it's done."

#wander over yonder #woy #woy fanart #ptsd #no that isnt Harvax LOL #just his species though #more to come on the species later

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xxavengingangelxx · 6 months

Text

Somewhere Only We Know 3/?

Part threeeee! I feel kind iffy about this one. Smurt starts so MDNI! 18+ I feel like the smut is not my best work but there will definitely be more smut in the future chapters :)

Taglist! @bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @josieguts, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl - if you'd like to be added, lemme know! ;)

Val feels like she has no choice but to return to Shadow Company for numerous reasons.

EDIT: Forgot to add! Q and A. Will Graves get more affectionate? I've gotten that question a LOOOT. Yes. But like all men he just found out and is a little overwhelmed 😉

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Price excused himself to take a phone call. Someone had called him three times back-to-back.

You knew who it was didn’t you?

Price wasn’t allowed to wander off very far. That small wing of the hospital you were in had been sealed off. No one enters or exits except for the police and the military.

Your suspicion was confirmed so were you really surprised when you heard Graves’s voice on the other end of that phone? Years of explosions and gunfire didn’t allow Price to turn the volume low enough that your younger, less exposed ears couldn’t pick it up. And because of how close the perimeter of that hospital wing was you heard every…word.

“Price,” Graves’s voice was tight, on-edge, dangerous and you wondered if someone had pissed him off right before.

“Graves,” Price spat back. “Was beginnin’ ta think Laswell had finally approved that airstrike you were nothin’ but ashes.”

“Haha,”

“Sorry,” Price added, “but I constant’ly fantasize about ya dying.”

“Knock this shit off,” Graves warned. “You have two people I’m interested in.” Graves paused before adding, “One I haven’t quite met yet.”

Price’s silence told you he was in shock.

Why did Graves sound so fucking terrifying today?

“Bloody ‘ell,” Price gasped. “How’d you—”

“I have eyes everywhere,” Graves said darkly. “A thing you might not know about southern culture, ya Brit. We like to keep our families together.”

“And you see Val as family? She’s not your wife ya fuckin’ psycho’.”

“No, she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

And you don’t know why that line made your breath catch in your throat. You knew Graves was obsessed with you but what exactly did he mean by that?

“You’re such a sick fuck,”

“Get her back to me.”

“I can’t override an arrest warrant,” Price shot back.

“Figure it out,” Graves snapped. “Or Makarov wins and World War III starts. I have the money and the connections to hide me and my family. Do you?”

You didn’t know you were still crying until the tears rolled down your face as a female soldier (no, not a police officer but a soldier) patted you down. The UK military was pissed enough to detain you because you’d released the codes to 141’s homing beacons. You had denied torture and refused to say anything against Graves or Shepherd. So they saw it as you betrayed 141 and willingly gave them up. You and Graves had worked together that night, hadn’t you? At least that’s what it looked like on the outside looking in. All the digging they’d done had revealed hushed secrets of how you two had been inappropriately involved with each other pretty much since you’d met.

You had mugshots taken for the first time in your life. They took pictures of every visible scar. You wondered why this wasn’t done at the detention facility and you were told it was in case you or someone who fancied you just happened to bust you out from the facility or even got to you before you even got there. So they’d have pictures of you to show the world and help re-capture you.

You were given a bulletproof vest because you’d made the news and had been labeled a traitor. You were loathed. There had been threats on your life. The news loves making people look horrible don’t they? You wondered if the news knew about your situation. Graves knew. And you really didn’t know how to feel about that. You couldn’t even get away from him by being arrested and detained.

You were never going to get away from Graves were you? You didn’t exactly hate it, though. But it also scared you, didn’t it?

You were chained like you were some outlaw (you kinda were though, weren’t you?). The fact that you could pick handcuffs and liked swing at authority figures had gotten around and so your cuffs were anchored to a chain around your waist. Not too tight. They didn’t want you, a sue-happy American, to sue them if you just so happened to lose that pregnancy.

“You’re really gonna let yourself get locked up instead of sayin’ somethin’, anythin’ against that son of a bitch?” Price asked.

“Just watch out for Graves and Shepherd, Captain,” you stated. “He might like me. But he won’t think twice about killing you. Make sure you and your boys stay safe.”

“You make it sound like you’re sacrificin’ yaself.”

“I can keep him distracted just enough.”

The sunlight was bright and it reminded you of how much you hated sunny days. The noise was overwhelming. News crews, people shouting at you, calling you a traitor. So you just glanced down, using your hair to hide your face. 141, for all you had done against them in the last 3 months, shielded you as best as they could.

Soap even pulled your hood over your head and you almost cried at the kindness of it. Also, pregnancy hormones.

It was cold.

You were about to be put into a military vehicle when a familiar voice, a demanding voice, told them to stop and turn around.

It was impossible to understand what was being said outside with all the noise. So you all went back inside, into the warmth of the hospital.

Granted you couldn’t move much. Cuffs anchored to your waist and leg irons. That thin bulletproof vest was tight on you, straps drawn snug. Graves indeed hadn’t been lying that they were going to treat you like a fucking prisoner, a good for nothing. And that was one of the reasons you kept your faith in Graves. You were weirdly bonded to him. You didn’t love him and you were sure he didn’t love you. But it seemed like you both were stuck together for the time being.

Maybe forever. You were obsessed. Maybe just as much as he was. Maybe a little less, though.

But the man here in person? General Shepherd.

“Graves told me what happened,” Shepherd stated. He removed his sunglasses.

“It’s none of yer business,” Price snapped.

“No, it is because she’s mine.”

“No, your Shadow piece o’ shit kidnapped ‘er. And now he’s fuckin’ stalkin’ her.”

“We had reason to believe she was collaborating with Hassan as she was the only one we found. Wandering all alone.” Shepherd paused before adding, “Like an abandoned puppy. That’s the term Graves used. And abandoned puppies need new homes, don’t they?”

Price full on growled. “Thas’ some bullshit excuse ya have. It won’t make sense on paper.”

“But it will,” Shepherd grinned that shit-eating grin he had. It was the same grin you imagined him having when Graves took that initial hostage video all those months ago. “And it did,”

Price was handed papers. What they said you couldn’t read. The print was too small.

“Val here was abandoned by her task force. We took her in, interrogated her, revealed she had nothin’ to hide.” Price signaled at the documents in Price’s hands, shaking with anger. “We did not, under any condition torture her.”

Shepherd looked at you, smirking before adding, “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“They didn’t hurt me,” you confirmed. You lied. You lied to protect Shepherd, Shadow Company, and most importantly, Graves. Something deep inside told you this would not be the last time lying for them. If this shit was brought to court or congress, you’d keep lying to protect Graves without a second thought.

“Val, ser’ously?” Price glared and if looks could kill, Shepherd would’ve died on the spot.

“She’s been with Shadows for 3 months. She’s mine now.” Shepherd demanded. “Hand ‘er over,”

“She’s not goin’ with ya,” Soap snapped. “Ya’ll done enough.”

“Don’t make me get my boys. You sure as fuck don’t want me getting Graves. He’s pissed. Has been. And when he’s mad he gets trigger happy.” Shepherd smirked. “Now go on ahead and get Graves’s little miss outta those cuffs. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t why ya’ll would treat a lady like that.”

“You’ve lost your mind…again, Gen’ral,” Price snapped. “She’s lookin’ at a court martial. US and UK want her here.”

“Let me put it in simpler terms for you,” That smirk never left Shepherd’s face. “Give me the girl. Give me my soldier or we all lose.”

“You don’t have to go with him,” Price muttered from next to you. “We can get a court to look at this,” He signaled at the pages which you still hadn’t bothered to try reading. “You have a choice,”

“I want Graves,” you said confidently.

The police officer, a new one, looked at Price, his gaze asking what he should do. Release, not release? Detain?

“You’re gonna go back to the company that fucked you up so bad you tried to kill ya’self?” Price paused before adding, “Is’ not jus’ about jus’ you anymore, Val. You have someone else to think about. Don’t do this.”

You shrugged. Because it really was. The bond you had with Graves was intense. Plus, you’d stay out of prison. You did have a child to think about. And the last fucking thing you wanted was you in prison in the UK, Graves in prison in the US, and your child in that horrible foster care system. You’d run before you let that happen.

“We’ll get them after all this, Val,” Price muttered so only you could hear. “They’ll rot in prison.”

“Release her. Now.” Shepherd demanded of the officer. “They’ve removed her AWOL status and transferred her to Shadow.”

“You better sleep with one eye open, mate,” were the last words Price said to Shepherd before you walked out of that hospital with said general free of restraints.

Shepherd didn’t say much in the truck. At least not at first. You rubbed your wrists because they cuffs on your wrists had been on too damn tight.

It was you and Shepherd. That was it. You wondered where Graves was. “You’ve done good work, soldier. Graves asked for you by name. Pulled a few strings and got this done because Graves is my best.”

You didn’t say a word. You’d thanked him earlier anyway. Well, that is except to ask, “Where’s Graves?”

“A safehouse,” Shepherd responded. “What’d you tell ‘em, soldier?”

“Nothing, sir.” You responded. “They threatened me with prison but I didn’t say shit. Respectfully.”

“We’ll pull the hospital records,”

“I’ve nothing to hide, sir.”

Shepherd paused before adding, “Don’t disappoint my top man,” Shepherd warned. “He’s gonna be your Shadow for the rest of your life. Told me he’s not letting you go.”

“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”

“He asks you to get on your knees, your response is how low, understand?”

“Yessir,” you felt like he was selling you to Graves.

“Ya ever thought about letting him fuck a kid into ya?”

Your head snapped to look in his direction next to you. Did he know?

“Would be nice to leave all this to family,” Shepherd stated simply. He saw you as something to be used. Was that why he’d said all those months ago he wanted you specifically working for them? A female? A female Shepherd knew Graves had a thing for?

Shepherd chuckled that cold laugh before adding, “I know ya’ll been fuckin’ since you met pretty much. He’s been obsessed with you.”

Was he kidding? And at that second something deep inside you told you Graves might like that you’re carrying his kid. There was no getting away from him now, was there? Even if you wanted to. Where the hell did you think you were going to hide with his kid?

“No offense, sir,” you replied after catching your breath, “That’s not why we—”

“That’s it’s God-given purpose,” he interrupted. “He’d be perfect.”

Who--? Hell, Shepherd was already obsessed with the kid and Shepherd didn’t even know the kid existed. Right? And you didn’t like that, not one bit.

“Product of two of my best soldiers, raised by Shadows, in the field.”

You weren’t sure if Shepherd took your ensuing silence as a form of defiance or as a form of acceptance.

You wished it was just you. Just you going back to Graves, no kid. But you were stuck now, weren’t you? You didn’t think your IUD would fail. But it did. You had less than a one percent chance of getting pregnant but here you were. And that was why you’d made that decision, amongst other reasons, sure. The decision to keep him. Him because you felt it was a boy.

Because maybe while you distracting Graves wasn’t enough, maybe you and his kid would distract Graves enough for him to leave 141 alone.

You just hated an innocent life was involved.

“Did you really raise that much hell?” Graves’s voice from behind you light a fire under your heart. He must’ve noticed your brief injuries.

“You told me to raise hell so I did,”

“Atta girl,” Graves smirked.

You couldn’t help it. You reached out and hugged him, gear and all.

And surprisingly?

He hugged back.

“Good ‘ta have you back,” Graves said, his voice tickling your hair as he rested his chin on your head.

You hoped into a hot shower the second you could. You scratched your skin raw trying to get those tape marks off your arms from when the hospital had started an IV sedated you that one day. You had tape marks all up and down your arms from all the times they’d drawn blood, marks around your wrists from the handcuffs and restraints.

“Don’t make yourself bleed, darlin,’” Graves chided. He’d been watching you through the clear glass shower door.

“I want it off,” you almost pouted.

He was naked when he joined you and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down shamelessly. He did the same to you. His eyes stopped on your breasts and on his favorite spot between your legs.

“They hurt you, didn’t they?”

His eyes lingered on the tape burn on your face from the duct tape pulled off your mouth three days ago. On the scrape your cheek showed after being yanked onto the ground face first when you hit a police officer in the face. And finally, to those scratch marks on your arms from trying to take the medical tape residue off.

You had indeed made yourself bleed.

“Only a little,” you contested.

“They’ll never have ya’ll again,” Graves promised.

And that confirmed he knew. He knew it wasn’t just you anymore.

You got on your toes. The hot water had you both sweating. Your hair was in loose curls over your shoulders and his blonde hair falling over his forehead. His hair almost looked light brown when it was wet and hanging on his forehead. Your lips met his briefly before he pressed his lips onto yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively. You raised your hands to his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, the strong stinging pain of scratch mark wounds forgotten.

He placed two strong hands on your hips before gripping your ass and effortlessly lifting you. You, out of habit, wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you onto the cold tile behind you, making you gasp and hiss and arch your back.

When you arched your back, you felt him, hot and thick and hard, at your entrance.

“That desperate are we?”

You gave him a lustful glare and an exasperated huff while he scoffed in response.

Graves ran his teeth just along your jawline, making you moan. You caught yourself and reminded yourself to be quiet. This was a safehouse, not a black site. It meant noise traveled through the walls like they weren’t there. It wasn’t like back on base where the walls were concrete. And absorbed all the sound.

“We’re alone,”

You moaned more at his words.

“Lick my fingers,” Graves commanded. He had you pinned against the wall, his hot, thick cock just touching your entrance. You mewled, trying to get him inside you.

So you obeyed. You ran your hot tongue over his fingers as he held them in front of your face.

“Show me how you’re gonna take me,” Graves added in a low growl.

Graves suddenly released you and your knees almost gave out.

You wanted him. You needed him.

“On your knees,”

You obeyed instantly. You fucking loved that despite your delicate situation he was still willing to insert at least a little dominance in the bedroom.

Without him asking you to, you took his hard length into your mouth.

Graves gasped and moaned, throwing his head back and catching his hair in the hot spray of the shower.

It wasn’t long before Graves was on top of you, in bed. You were both still drenched from the shower but it wasn’t like either of you cared. You’d started sucking him off and after pulling you off of him he’d started to work his fingers inside of you before he’d abruptly cut off the water.

Now here you were, drenched hair sprawled out behind you while Graves had bruising grips on your thighs as you felt him mercilessly use his lips, teeth, and tongue to taste you.

You felt like you needed him to totally own you. To take your mind off that burning pain from where you’d scratched yourself so hard you’d cut yourself open earlier, from what you’d learned from your hospital stay, from all the shit you’d been through. So you said those key words…the key words that let him know you wanted him to fuck you almost into unconsciousness, that gave him permission to leave marks on you.

“Graves, show me who I belong to,”

But to your surprise?

“No,” came the growled reply from between your legs.

“What?” you glanced down and the sight that met you almost made you gasp. Graves, his hands still grasping your thighs, his pupils wide with lust, his chin damp from your arousal, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

You wondered if maybe you tasted differently. Could he taste that he completely owned you, marked you forever? You were carrying his child. How much more could he own you?

“No, Val,” Graves repeated, his gaze not leaving yours. “Tonight I’m just gonna relearn every fucking inch of your body.”

So after he’d edged you twice and finally let you cum on his lips, he was finally inside you.

And that’s when time seemed to slow down. It felt like you had been apart from Graves your months when in reality it had been a few days. You wondered if this is what addiction felt like. Every time he moved inside you it was like you both moaned in unison. You heard him say something but you couldn’t quite decipher it. Your brain was jelly.

You could feel yourself getting close and he would stop. You whined at the feeling. You wanted to beg him to continue, to fuck you until you couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk.

But every time you’d open your mouth to beg, he’d seal it with his own. And you’d feel him smile, chuckle. The bastard knew what he was doing. So instead of getting rough, he was edging you. He was relearning you and ensuring himself he still knew every inch of you by making sure his cock reached so deep inside you until it could go no further.

“Say my name,” finally came the command. Apparently your ears had stopped working because you knew that tone of voice. Graves had had to repeat this command more than once.

“Fuck me, Graves,” you gasped as his hips stuttered, making your insides flutter.

Graves talked again, but you had trouble hearing him over your own moans and filthy words begging him

Fuck you harder.

Graves grabbed your shoulders and shook you hard enough to get your attention. Not nearly as hard as when he’d fucked you before you were ‘rescued’ by 141. There was a gentleness to his motions that he’d never shown before and you wondered why. Before reminding yourself: you’re pregnant. He was still buried inside you and you arched your back, trying to get him deeper into you.

“Say my full name,”

So that’s exactly what you did.

You said his full name, Phillip Graves, as you came a second time, this time around his cock and felt as his thrusts got sloppy and rough and hard while he came undone inside of you.

End notes: This is gonna get soooo complicated! :o

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #john soap mactavish #mw2 141 #ghost cod #cod mw3 #cod makarov #longwayfromhome #somewhere only we know

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dabisbratz · 1 month

Note

tryin to work on a fic but dear god. how dyou get the motivation to write cause mine is dead in the water

consumin lots n lots n lots n lots of romance !! fyou couldn’t tell— da way i write svery plot heavy, builds momentum n chemistry so da smut portion feels more real n meaninful !! so , usually , lookin at a bunch of romance manga n animes, romcoms, n especially ghibli movies helps a bunch n makes me wanna write !! think every character has a lil bit of ashitaka (from princess mononoke) in him , hehe !

on dat note . knowin what i wanna write but not wantin t’write . . . is iffy ! if mreally. not feelin it. i’ll do text t’speech, or lil bullet points in mnotes . s’important t’remember . fyoure not writin it , s’not gonna get written ! you’re da only person contorllin da length n progression of your story !! n you’ve got nothin t’lose !! even f’its lil by lil. . . it’s somethin!

n e way, don’t go n force yourself t’write, that can make it worse ! it’ll come t’you, promise . sometimes f’im stuck in a spot, dunno where m’wanna go or branch off to, or just not really in da mood at all, thinkin about m’own fantasies n desires helps too !! somethin abt insertin yourself in a sweet n lovely situation will get you excited t’put characters in da same one , might give you da urge to write !

also, might sound kinda weird.. but f’you can think of just One (1) word that ywanna use or can be associated with your fic. . . you’re set !! instead of thinkin about da entire fic or paragraph, which can sway you from writin, go off that one word! in da fic m’workin on, wasn’t really feelin da beginnin, n had no motivation tkeep goin or find words to progress da fic . so!! instead, went off da last word of the paragraph— love — n described that ! ydont hafta think too hard or build anythin else up that way, n it at least gets you writin somethin !!

somethin new v’been tryin to do, is puttin m’self in productive settins !! leavin m’room, goin to da park or a cafe!!! takin da time to sit there , in a new settin , refreshes your brain n gets you into ‘work mode’ , think bein in an environment centered around workin just. . . sparks motivation !

hope dat makes sense . ꒰⑅ᐢ. ֑ .ᐢ꒱

#𐂯 ! ⊹ 𝓉𝑜𝓎𝒷𝑜𝓍 — ᵎᵎ ₊˚

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crackedpumpkin · 9 months

Text

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The Kidnapper [ 10:00 AM ]: ink or Grey?

The Kidnapper [ 10:00 AM ]: *Pink

The Kidnappee [ 10:30 AM ]: ink is good.

The Kidnapper [ 10:35 AM ]: i despise everything you currently stand for.

“Who’re you texting?”

You subtly place your phone screen-side down, turning to flash Nicole a bright smile. “No one,” You shrug, lying through your teeth. She hums for a moment, thoughtful eyes trained on you before she decides to pass over it.

“Have you finished your essay yet?”

“I’m almost offended you asked.” You pull out your essay with a scoff, placing it on your table as your phone buzzes with a new notification. You check it out of curiosity, inhaling sharply.

- [ The Kidnappee ] has changed your name to [ Anti-Hero ] -

Damn. He really got you there.

Anti-Hero [ 10:37 AM ]: this is a forcibly implemented stereotype.

- [ Anti-Hero ] has changed [ The Kidnappee ] to [ :/ ] -

:/ [ 10:37 AM ]: :/

“Can I have a look?” Nicole takes the completed assignment from your table once you nod, scanning through it. You had barely gotten enough sleep last night, having scrounged up just enough motivation to hand in this assignment early so that you could focus on other things worth your time, and thanking the gods for thesaurus dot com.

For instance, there was a new cafe you’d been wanting to try out lately. You’d heard that they had this new pastry – croffles, as they call it. Fortunately, you happened to have a little spare cash in your rapidly depleting bank account, but as one says, life is only lived when you eat good food.

Plus, who else to go cafe hopping with than your best friend?

“Oh, I can’t make it today.” You stare at Nicole who cooly informs you of her sudden withdrawal from today’s plans. “My mom asked me to pick something up from her, and it’s pretty much on the other side of town. Plus, don’t you have to babysit tonight?”

“Well, yeah but-”

“I’ll pay for the next cafe.”

“Have fun!” You grin, overjoyed at the prospect of a free meal. One can never turn down food, especially when it’s for free. Nicole rolls her eyes with a slight smile at your response, though you can tell that she’s amused.

“What about Michael?”

“He’s got basketball today,” Nicole says, handing you back the essay and sending you an odd look when she notices your raised brows. “What?”

“Looks like someone’s been keeping tabs on him,” You tease lightly, leaning over and nudging her shoulder. She pushes you off with a grunt, lips tugged down into a frown.

“That’s because he never shuts up.”

“Sure, sure,” You dismiss with a lighthearted sigh, already starting to text on your phone once more. If Nicole wasn’t free, and Michael was busy…it didn’t leave you with many alternative options. It’s not like you didn’t have many friends per say, it was more of a social network.

Plus, it never hurts to make connections either.

Anti-Hero [ 11:00 AM ]: are you busy today?

Anti-Hero [ 11:00 AM ]: or does spiderman have somewhere to be?

:/ [ 11:00 AM ]: i dont think so, dont really have anything on after school.

:/ [ 11:02 AM ]: why?

:/ [ 11:30 AM ]: ?

You place your phone back into your pocket with a slight grin, paying attention to the teacher who had just started her lesson. The phone continues to buzz, probably more new messages from Miles questioning the sudden enquiry.

Guess you have someone to go with to the cafe after all.

— — — — —

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“This is an English paper,” Nicole points out. You frown at the paper on your desk, your name scrawled at the top left along with today’s date.

“That’d explain it,” you mutter, going back to your sketchbook where your half-finished artwork remains. The pages are wrinkled with multiple attempts to erase any mistakes, but the familiar sight of Spiderman leaning back against a bench and chilling is the picture of peace.

On an empty page is where you’d just started doodling, ideas beginning to flow through you from mind to paper. You’d doodled a rough outline of a bouquet, having lightly sketched two hands holding them out. The flowers were a mix of different types, each with a common meaning - peace. The idea had occurred to you during class, the serenity of the first sketching session with Miles ingrained in your mind.

It was nice. And that made you wonder what other things were nice and peaceful too. Going on walks counted, didn’t they? Granted, you don’t really go on them often but when you did, it always helped clear your mind of whatever thoughts were plaguing you. Usually you’d head to a nearby park to just walk around aimlessly. The trees were nice during autumn, its leaves turning all sorts of colours and curling up as they withered.

It’s fun to step on them and hear the soft crunch, the sound oddly satisfying. The flowers were nice too, different types blooming in various seasons throughout the year. Flowers were always given during graduations and ceremonies, especially in the form of celebration and congratulations. You’d heard from Michael that each flower had a different meaning. Roses typically signified love, but it could get as specific as white roses meaning purity, while red roses were a profession of love from one person to another.

You wonder which flower signifies peace. Upon a quick google search (away from the laser-like gaze of your teacher of course), you find out that such flowers included lavender, violets, white poppies, and peonies among the many that did.

You prop the phone up against your pencil case, grateful for the fact that you’re seated in the back with a lower chance of being caught by the teacher. Pencil meets paper, and you soon find yourself with a half completed bouquet, with incredibly detailed petals of each flower.

However, you’re rudely interrupted by the bell, Nicole having set down a new assignment the teacher had handed out at the end of her class. Your next period was art and you bid Nicole with a hasty goodbye before rushing down the crowded hallways to the classroom.

Once you open the door, you sit down at your usual spot and open your sketchbook in one fluid movement, continuing to draw while you’re still in the zone. You could feel your productivity practically shooting through the roof, knowing that if you stopped here you wouldn’t be able to continue for quite a while and inevitably end up procrastinating.

But not for this piece, no. It’s something solid. You can feel it.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally look up from the sketchbook, wincing when the stiff muscles in your neck protest from the sudden movement. Taking a moment to look around you, you notice that it’s almost the end of class. Miss Dawson is seated at her desk, looking through homework submissions other students had handed in a while ago.

She senses your gaze, meeting yours with a knowing smile. You shrug simply, holding up your sketchbook with a smug smirk. Her eyes scan the page, acknowledging the work with a single satisfied nod. Delight blooms in your chest at her approval, setting it down and admiring it for yourself.

To think that your first serious work after your drawing slump is something that you’re more than satisfied with.

Looks like this muse thing is working out well for you after all.

— — — — —

You don’t run into Nicole and Michael until the last period before the bell rings, the both of them leaving as soon as its shrill chime echoes through the school. You wave goodbye, Nicole shoving Michael away as soon as he tries to drape his arm around her shoulders once more.

You snicker at the sight, shaking your head fondly at his antics. It’s only a matter of time till they finally get together. You’re more than willing to help, only if they’d just voice it out, the idiots.

You finally open the unread messages from Miles, but don’t reply even as you exit the school and make your way to Brooklyn Visions Academy. A cool breeze greets the exposed skin of your arms, having taken off the thin cardigan you’d worn to school in the chilly morning.

The familiar building soon comes into view, and you spot Miles exiting the gates. You check the time on your phone. 2.30PM. Perfect.

“Come on loser, we’re going shopping!” You greet him enthusiastically, waving energetically. The bright smile on your lips only grows when you see the pure confusion and panic in his eyes.

“Wh-What’re you doing here?” He asks you as you skip merrily towards him. Sensing a few eyes on him, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you to one side, away from most of the crowd.

You spot the beads of sweat forming on his brow, and the visibly distressed frown on his lips. Although you took great pleasure in seeing him become so unnerved by you, now isn’t the time for such pleasantries to be exchanged. You remove your hand from his grasp, lightly patting his back instead with a charming smile.

“Calm down, I’m just here to pick you up. We’re going to a croffle cafe!” Miles pauses, looking down at you in disbelief. He takes a moment to stare at you, before sliding a hand down his face as his brows furrow, trying to process your words. He exhales, eyes squeezed shut while you wait patiently, utterly amused as you watch him go through the stages of acceptance.

“Croffle?”

“A cross between croissant and waffle,” You clarify, tugging on his sleeve. “C’mon, we gotta get there before everything’s sold out!”

He starts to walk, allowing you to drag him along to wherever the cafe is located. He falls into step beside you, matching your pace. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

“So, you didn’t have anyone else to go with?” He questions, still bewildered and slightly taken aback by your sudden appearance at his school.

You frown, shaking your head. “Nah, my friends were busy so I decided to bring you along since you said you were free today.” The subtle glance you throw his way doesn’t escape his notice, looking down at his uniform you had given a once-over.

“What’s wrong with my uniform?”

“Nothing, it’s just…Aren’t you hot or something?” You question curiously, surprised by his tolerance to the sudden sweltering sun that decided to make its presence known to everyone under it a short while ago.

He shrugs, smirking as he secures the blazer around his waist, unbuttoning it and letting it fall to his sides. “It’s a choice.”

“Like your shoes?” You point out, eyeing the way his untied shoelaces land into a small puddle on the pavement. He nods casually, seemingly having accepted that his afternoon was now going to be spent accompanying you.

“I have choices,” He defends with an emotionless smile. You roll your eyes playfully. Thankfully, the apartment buildings around you provide plenty of shade from the heat, though you were still sweating a rather moderate amount.

An array of buildings and trees pass by in a colourful blur, the cafe finally coming into view. The interior is both modern and sleek, the doorbell attached to the top of the door chiming as you open it. The workers inside greet you with a cheerful hello, and you nod back with a shy smile, flustered by their warm greeting. You make your way to the second floor without hesitation, setting down your bag on the chair that faces the ceiling-to-floor windows, offering a beautiful view of the bustling junction.

Miles quickly makes himself comfortable in his own seat, curious fingers pulling his phone out and scanning the QR Code that had been laminated onto the table. You do the same, scrolling through the extensive menu the cafe had.

“What’s a cherry-ade?”

“It’s kinda like a lemonade, just cherry flavoured and usually more fizzy. I heard this cafe is known for their savoury croffles, but I really wanna try their croffle and ice cream combination. Plus, I saw that they sell plum-ade here too.” You explain, already placing an order on your phone and setting it down on the table after.

“Chicken and croffles,” Miles hums thoughtfully, glancing back down at a menu option. You lean over the table between you both, peeking at his phone. He instinctively moves it away, but your inquisitive gaze makes him relent, showing you the screen where an order for the chicken croffle and plum-ade is placed.

“So you’re a savoury person? I bet you like mint chocolate chip ice cream too,” You remark, shifting in your seat and getting comfortable.

“What’s so bad about mint chocolate chip ice cream?” Miles takes offence to that statement, narrowing his eyes at you. You squint back at him, already gearing yourself up to put forth your stance.

“You’re basically biting into toothpaste,” you state with complete and utter certainty, undeterred by the shock in his eyes when he hears your words.

“Biting??”

“Okay, I mean it’s not any of my business as to what you get up to in the mornings but if getting little gunky bits stuck in your teeth is your idea of a wonderful start to the day, be my guest.”

“Wait, no. Biting? You bite your ice cream?” He repeats, completely baffled by this discovery and forgoing everything else you’ve said.

“Yeah, and it’s seriously like biting into chocolate toothpaste bro,” You answer coolly with a disapproving shake of your head.

“Do your teeth not hurt?” He asks curiously.

You pause for a moment, looking down at the folded hands on your lap before answering. “Not really, but I’ve never really thought about it before. Also, it’s just way more convenient all ‘round.”

“But you wouldn’t get to savour it!”

“And you’d rather have it drip onto your hands and let them become sticky?”

“Use tissues then?”

“God, you’re so weird,” You grunt out through an annoyed huff, though the smile on your face suggests otherwise. Before he can retort however, a sweet voice interrupts you both. The waitress arrives with the tray of food, setting it down on your table and leaving after you both give her your thanks.

“So, this is a croffle.”

You look down at the freshly made croffle on the plate, the vanilla ice cream on top already beginning to melt as steam wafts from the hot pastry. You shut your eyes and inhale deeply, warmth blooming in your chest from the prospect of a delicious lunch.w

You’re already starting to salivate.

“Wait.”

Your fork and knife are inches away from cutting into the croffle, looking up at him with a frown. Who is he to stop you from digging into your well-deserved sweet treat?

“Bite into it,” Miles smirks, using his own fork to gesture to the ice cream that was surprisingly maintaining its shape after being scooped.

“Whatever you say, bug boy,” You shrug, using your fork to scoop a huge portion of the ice cream and instantly bite down, chewing calmly. The vanilla is just as sweet and as velvety smooth as you’d expected, eliciting a blissful hum from your throat.

“Guess you weren’t lying,” Miles purses his lips, taking a sip of the plum-ade. You copy him, the refreshing tang of the plum extract only making you want more whilst the fizziness of the soda water cools you from the earlier heat. The air conditioning helps too, you suppose.

“This…isn’t half bad,” He muses with an approving hum, taking another look at the glass with an impressed gaze.

“Love me a good plum-ade.” You nod in utter seriousness, unable to hold back a smile from his short laugh. He looks away and takes another sip, relaxing against the chair and watching people pass by below them.

“So, you found out who I was after you saw me climb up the window? Are you really sure about that?”

“You’re kidding.” You say incredulously, shooting him a dubious look and gesturing to the opposite building. “Like, I almost did a double take just seeing you crawl up the wall and into your dorm. It was as obvious as if you did it right in front of us, right now.”

“Seriously?”

You almost laugh at his flushed cheeks, spotting the tips of his ears slowly turning a light red. “You really gotta get better at this, Morales.”

“Says you, Ray Paynt,” He shoots back instantly, and you avoid his knowing stare by looking down at your glass, taking another sip. You can feel his eyes on you, taking your time to drink your beverage.

There’s no way he knows that your name is fake…right?

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, nodding at his chicken and croffle drenched in maple syrup though one third of it is already gone. “Is it good?”

He nods,, taking another bite. “It’s decent.”

It grows quiet for a while, the both of you taking your time to eat and relax. There’s not much to say either. You anticipated that Miles might have some burning questions for you, but he doesn’t voice them out at all.

Besides, it’s not like you’d answer all of them even if he asked.

The sun starts to set, golden rays peeking through the small alleyways of redbrick buildings. You check your phone, surprised when it shows that it’s 7PM. You pick up your backpack and clear the trays, getting ready to leave.

“This wasn’t half bad,” He acknowledges, shrugging on his backpack. You grin, crossing your arms smugly.

“Told you being my muse would be a good thing.”

“You never said that.”

“Well, now I did.”

— — — — —

- [ Anti-Hero ] has changed [ :/ ] to [ Bug Boy ] -

Bug-Boy [ 10:00 PM ]: you owe me $7.50

Anti-Hero [ 10:00 PM ]: ???? for what?

Bug-Boy [ 10:00 PM ]: my time is expensive

Anti-Hero [ 10:02 PM ]: says who

Anti-Hero [ 10:02 PM ]: ?

Anti-Hero [ 10:02 PM ]: ??

— — — — — — — — —

taglist:

@oh-kurva @brunnettiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas @horologiumwise @ken-zah @sockgoblin @itstooearly-its3am @anuncalledbridge @ditto737 @sophipet @mirophobic @dilucpegg3r @urmotherswhor3 @arraxthatsonjah @ameliabs-world @superiorbyfar @swaqlover @janyiahsucks-blog @choco-malk-blog @akemiixx01 @a-cult-leader @berryunderscore @scarletrosesposts @stargirlhayven @bellstwd @edgyficuselastica @psyche404 @sukisprettyface

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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666writingcafe · 4 months

Text

Barbatos' Birthday Surprise (Part Three)

"Hello, MC." Barbatos is standing over the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at a metal mixing bowl. "You just missed Luke. He's on his way back to Purgatory Hall if you wanted to see him."

"Diavolo told me he was learning a new recipe from you," I reply as I hoist myself up on one of the nearby counters. From what I've been told, I'm the only person he doesn't scold for doing that sort of thing.

"It's a rather old pastry recipe I discovered as I was tidying up. I don't remember where it came from, but the instructions were fairly easy for him to follow, and it turned out decent."

"Did he make them too sweet?" Barbatos playfully sighs.

"Even after all this time, he still is a bit heavy-handed." He rinses the mixing bowl and sets it in a dish drainer before drying his hands with a dish towel and turning to face me. His eyes briefly glance at the envelope in my hands. "Is that something I need to deliver to the Young Master?"

"Actually, it's for you," I answer, extending the envelope out to him so that he can take it.

"Is this a professional matter or a personal one?" I smile at him mischievously.

"Just take a look inside." Arching an eyebrow with an amused look, he glances inside the envelope and pulls out the concert tickets. He appears to freeze once he sees the name on the ticket, and he doesn't say anything for a rather long moment.

"Breathe," I tell him, sensing that he's been stunned into silence.

"Please tell me you didn't spend all your Grimm on these." His voice is soft, almost a whisper.

"I didn't. I won them. One of the radio stations had a contest, and I figured we could go to the concert together. I've really enjoyed listening to Devildom metal with you."

"MC..." He trails off as he sets the envelope and tickets down and takes a deep breath. "Severa isn't just any metal band. For one, they're arguably the most popular one in the Devildom at the moment, but there's a lot more to them than just their commercial success." He briefly pauses again. "Do you have to be anywhere anytime soon?"

"I don't believe so. Why?"

~~~

"The first thing you need to know about Severa is that the members are writers first and musicians second." We're currently in the castle's music room. I'm sitting on the couch, looking at the thick stack of vinyls sitting on the coffee table, while Barbatos stands in front of me like he's a professor. "Their entire discography is one continuous story, and each record represents a chapter of that story."

"What chapter are they currently on?"

"Thirty-four," Barbatos answers. "They plan on ending this particular story after forty chapters, but they want to continue writing afterwards. They're just not sure whether their next story will take place in the same literary universe or if they want to create something entirely different."

"Kind of like King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard."

"From my understanding, theirs is either accidental or a product of fan speculation. Severa's worldbuilding is intentional, and each of the members put a lot of time and care into ensuring that everything they create helps progress the story along. Unlike your human world band, they're not releasing these albums in quick succession, even by Devildom standards. Some of the records have a few hundred years separating them." That is an incredibly long time between albums. However, if that time is devoted to making something cohesive, then it's time well spent. I'm sure they wouldn't want to drive fans away by releasing a rushed record.

"Is it safe to assume that each tour only covers the current chapter that they're on?" I ask. "Like, for this particular tour, they wouldn't go back to the first chapter and recount everything that happened, right?"

"For the most part, you are correct. The first few songs on their setlists are from earlier records so that newer fans can follow along without becoming completely confused, but the rest of the concert is devoted to the current chapter from beginning to end."

"How long have you been listening to Severa's story?"

"From the very beginning." He picks up the record on top and sits down next to me on the couch. "This is their EP Lake Despair. The four songs on here introduce the four main characters of this story: Thiren, Baziel, Cassandra, and Renette. Thiren is a demon, Baziel an angel, Renette an immortal sorceress, and Cassandra an ordinary human. Thiren, Baziel, and Renette have known each other for thousands of years, and they work together to ensure harmony between the three realms.

"One day, the three of them are hanging out in a human world cafe when a fiery ball crashes into a nearby building and causes it to explode. This building happens to be where Cassandra works, and she was just returning from her lunch break when the explosion occurred. Then, a tall, cloaked figure comes out of thin air and starts attacking Cassandra with magic. Of course, the other three help defend Cassandra from these attacks, and the cloaked figure eventually backs off and vanishes, but not before warning Cassandra that she will pay for her crimes."

"What crimes?"

"That's what they're trying to figure out. Cassandra doesn't have a criminal record in any of the three realms, nor does she remember doing anything to provoke someone to that degree." Barbatos pauses. "These albums explore that mystery, and in order to avoid spoiling the story for you, I think it's best that you hear it for yourself. Of course, I will be more than happy to answer any questions you have along the way."

"You're wanting to start now, aren't you?" Barbatos nods his head. "If that's the case, then I need to let Lucifer know that I'll be sleeping over here for a bit. I have a feeling this is going to take a while, and I don't want him to worry."

"Completely understandable. And practical. While he knows of the lore, he wouldn't be able to explain it very well."

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo

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onesapphireeye · 1 year

Text

dragon rider

You'd be lying if you said you weren't a massive fan of the rock group, The Valyrians. In fact, you did lie on your job application. Now, in your new position, you were their loyal servant in every sense of the word. Nonetheless, when their belongings start to vanish, Aemond begins to imagine you're the culprit and has finally caught you in the act.

modernband!aemond x reader.

warnings: NSFW. Not for minors. fingers in a v. use of she/her for reader. some cussing. bisexual reader. reader is a kleptomaniac.

nori says: i love you guys and i love that you loved my band au edit!!! this is not beta read. xoxo

word count: 1,670~

"You've really got to be joking." Rhaena's angelic voice cut through the air, and you looked from your feet to the pile of odds and ends gathered around your backpack. "Stealing is one thing, but the things you chose are plain weird."

"Stealing is wrong, no matter what you take," Helaena chided from the doorway. "I understand wanting trinkets, but please stop."

"She can't stop. Look at all this shit—you're a fucking pervert." Baela muttered. You couldn't find a way to disagree.

Your backpack was stuffed with an eclectic mix of their most personal possessions. It started with an innocent intention—to return Hel's ladybug scrunchie that you'd seen her leave behind in the dressing room five cities ago.

But then, you saw Rhae's lip gloss laying on a counter and couldn't resist taking it. You remembered watching her apply it, in that slow sexy way where not a spot on her lips wasn't shiny, and went back to the hotel and practically made out with the wand.

Baela's favorite bra had been the riskiest thing until today, your heart beat rapidly every time you heard her complain to the stylist about how it had come up missing. You liked to wear it as you finger fucked yourself, imagining her arms were the ones wrapped around you.

There were other things too.

Thank you cards meant for other fans, a pair of socks, earrings from all of them, Baela's gua sha roller, Helaena's set of butterfly hair clips, Rhaena's colored pencils and a sketch pad... Even a used compostable coffee cup.

You had collected so much from the girls. You didn't want to forget how special they had made you feel when this job was over. They had been so, so good to you, including you in everything, making you feel less like a lackey and more like one of them. You had gone above and beyond being just an admirer, you were obsessed. You wanted that feeling to last forever.

"We don't have time for this!" Baela shouted, "I want everything that you took back and you better be cool about it. I don't want any Yolanda Saldívar shit happening."

"Baela!" The other two girls tried to reign in their drummer, but she was adamant.

"No, don't Baela me! Clearly she's insane and out of line." You watched the girls' feet walk out of the room and winced when the door slammed behind them. Thankfully, they took it better than you expected and, most importantly, you hadn’t been fired yet.

You were about to go for your backpack when you noticed Aemond was still in the room. He snagged it up and began to rifle through your treasures. Your eyes finally lifted from the ground and you frowned at him. You sighed in annoyance when he pulled out the pair of underwear you had managed to get from Rhaena today. He gave a quizzical raise of an eyebrow and a smirk etched onto his lips, but he didn't seem to be judging you and that made the hair on the back of your neck raise in a pleasant way.

"What did you take of mine?" Aemond spoke for the first time since he had called the girls in here after catching you zipping up your back pack. You had seen him watching you for the last few days, but the thrill of taking something new outweighed your sense of self preservation.

In truth, you hadn't taken anything of Aemond's. He had been your reason for applying for this job in the first place, but you came to realize that his blasé blah stage persona was real. In the beginning of the tour, he had been... well you couldn't quite say warm, but he had been warmer toward you. Now, he was all stares and silence.

His eyes seemed to be constantly on you, he'd linger around and watch, but you did whatever you could to try to put him in awkward circumstances. Like bending over for too long and then glancing over to see if he was peeking up your skirt. The answer was always yes, but he never looked embarrassed when caught.

"Why would I take anything of yours?" You gave him a smile that was all teeth and more of a snarl. You had long ago dropped the shy girl act you put on for the others. He wasn't nice to you, so fuck him.

"Do you think I'd want to remember you, Aemond?" You heard him suck his teeth and watched as he dropped the backpack to step closer to you. He was so tall, looming over you, but you didn't back down. Instead, you matched his gaze with your own heated intensity. "Or are you just upset I don't get aroused by the thought of you?"

His eyes glowed with something that made you think you misread his previous intentions. Maybe he hadn't been acting nonchalant? Maybe he genuinely wanted you?

You decided to test your theory.

"Poor little neglected, Aemond. Upset the crazy girl didn't take anything from him?"

He grabbed your lower face with one of his large hands, the studded rings on his fingers were warm and pressed into your skin ever so slightly. "There's nothing little about me, Sweetheart."

Aemond's thumb came to trace your bottom lip and you bit it playfully. His eyes watched in fascination as you sucked it into your mouth. "Your mouth is as naughty as your thoughts, huh?" he said as he pushed it deeper, so that all you could do was moan in response.

He pulled his finger from your mouth, only to lean down and replace it with his tongue. Your body reacted to the sensation with a moan of pleasure. His hands moved to your hair, gently pulling it as he kissed you.

You both stumbled backwards until your back hit a wall. He continued to kiss you hungrily, as if he couldn't get enough of you. You opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, and let out a small groan.

Aemond finally broke away from the kiss and looked at you with burning desire in his eyes. "Do you want to remember me?" he asked hoarsely. Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly tugged at his shirt until it was off and tossed away across the room. You gasped at the sight of his bare chest, admiring the hard planes and curves of muscle beneath the smooth skin.

His hands came up to cup your face, and he stared deeply into your eyes before leaning down to press feather-light kisses along your jawline and neck. Your breathing was so loud that it filled the entire room as electricity seemed to travel through every nerve ending in your body. He grabbed one of your wrists and pinned it above your head as one of his legs came between yours trapping you against the wall.

"Say yes," he murmured huskily against your ear before pulling away just enough to look into your eyes again.

"Yes," you nodded vigorously, feeling yourself grow more lost in him with each passing second. "I want to remember you."

He spun you around in a swift and graceful motion, taking you by surprise. Only then did you notice that Aemond had backed you up to the large mirror wall in the dressing room; and you found yourself staring into your own reflection.

You could feel his breath on the back of your neck and it sent a shiver through your body. His hands moved up and down your torso as he held you tight in his embrace, and his lips found the nape of your neck and kissed it lightly.

He started to move his attention lower, squeezing and caressing your hips and ass. You felt your body responding to his touch, and you found yourself pushing back against him as he continued to explore.

There was a mounting pressure between your legs, as Aemond's fingers pulled the bottom hem of your mini skirt up and moved your underwear to the side. He brushed against your clitoris, eliciting another moan from your lips. His other hand massaged your inner thighs, and you could feel yourself getting wet.

He leaned in closer to whisper, his voice low and full of desire. "Yeah, I'll give you a reason to want to remember me." The words sent excitement coursing through your body and you pushed back against him harder, wanting more.

He seemed to understand what you wanted, as he alternated between soft caresses and firmer strokes around your clitoris, teasing it until it was hard and swollen with desire. You were so close now that you could feel your legs trembling as he continued to stroke you nearer to the edge.

The sensations were overwhelming, yet still not enough.

"Aemond," You whimpered out his name. He moved further down and began rhythmically rubbing around your entrance before slipping a finger inside of you.

When you were slick and ready, Aemond added another finger and then another, stretching you wide open as he pumped his hand into your sensitive flesh. You felt yourself beginning to spiral out of control as he moved his fingers in and out of you faster and faster.

You could feel the pleasure radiating throughout your body with every thrust, and you could see your fucked out reflection in the mirror.

Finally, you reached the peak of satisfaction and let out a loud gasp as an intense wave of euphoria swept through you. Your eyes closed in ecstasy. Your body throbbed and your head spun as Aemond continued toying with you until you were completely spent.

As he pulled his fingers out of you, you felt yourself melt against him, exhausted and in awe of the experience you had just shared. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you through the mirror with a satisfied smirk. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and stepped back.

"You're fired."

#norimadeit #my prince #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #modern aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #he has both eyes okay #dragon rider

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randomstoryenjoyer · 10 months

Text

White Lily Cookie’s fall

One of my AU ideas where there are very few witches left!

You sighed to yourself, sweat running down your forehead as you were busy at work. Your hands and fingers were sore from all the baking and finesse you endured for as long as you can remember, and were still holding onto the tray you had placed down on the table, full of a new batch of freshly baked cookies.

Today was the Night of the Witches, or at least it was meant to be. There were barely any witches anymore for reasons your brain had given up trying to understand a long time ago. Was it perhaps from the constant persecution from non-magic humans? Had many of them given up their magic ways? You had already accepted the fact that you would most likely never find out. Already shunned by both the wizards and non-magic society, this only serves to convince you that you didn’t deserve to have survived this great witch-disappearance. Your destiny to being left alone in the dark had already been set in stone ever since your loneliness overtook you.

Despite these modern circumstances, you had still decided to honour the nostalgic past, where once in every thousand years, all witches and sorceresses and sorcerers and whatnot would meet together in this very table. And now, your only company was the ultimate dough, as it continued churning and bubbling alongside the banquet table like it always did.

As you continued to stare down at the cookies you had baked, all of them absurd and colourful in their own ways, your memories continued to flood in. Ever since you were on your own in the world of magic, you became obsessed with the art of magic culinary. If you couldn’t connect with other humans, maybe you could create your own beings to connect with? You had began baking cookies to give life to in an attempt to make your own friends and companions, working towards achieving in creating what your mind called the ‘perfect cookie’. However, the other witches soon picked up on this habit of yours and started doing it themselves, but only with the intention of eating the living cookies they baked. This difference of viewpoints between you and and the small rest of them also ended up leaving you isolated from the rest of the witches left, which only served to make your loneliness worse.

And to make matters worse, no matter how nice you tried to be, or how much genuine care you had put into every dough or frosting you had fabricated, every single cookie you baked ended up running away from you, screaming in fear and making a run for it every time you took your eyes off them. This carried on for years, and you were surprised the mental toll of constant rejection and failure from your creations hadn’t left you insane yet. At this point, the ‘perfect cookie’ would simply be the one that wasn’t scared of you.

And so, here you were, baking cookies for the millionth time all alone during the Night of the Witches. You kept staring down at the tray, waiting for the life powder’s effects to kick in, until the cookies began to blink and sit up from the tray they laid upon. You stiffened up, hoping this special night would pity you and grant you the wish you so desperately wanted, but soon enough, the little cookies below you were already screaming in shock and cowering away from you, many probably getting ready to make a run for it the first chance they got. Even on the Night of Witches, you hadn’t made any progress on managing to create the ‘perfect cookie’.

If this was any other day, you’d probably just let them run off and back yet another new batch. But today, in the Night of Witches itself, something finally snapped after you after the constant agonising failures throughout the years. This was your destiny, wasn’t it? Being forgotten and left alone by everybody, passing away eventually and not leaving behind a single trace of yourself. Nobody else cared about you. Not even your own creations! You could feel your teeth begin to grind together and your hands beginning to clench as you stared down at your little creations all still looking up at you in horror, your mind filled with too much anger at this point to even calm down. They wanted to fear you? You were going to give them a good reason to fear you

…

You finally regained your senses after your outburst, realising your state and surroundings. Your section of the banquet table was now littered with cookie crumbs, jam splattered everywhere. Your hands were sticky with the amount of jam splotches on them, and your cheeks were puffed up from the amount of mushed up cookie dough inside your mouth…

You hastily got up from your seat, pouring yourself a glass of brew to wash down your meal with. During that, your heard a small and rather traumatised voice coming from your banquet table spot, and turned around to see a small white and green cookie with pale dough panically saying something to whatever remains of your baked cookies were left on the tray, but they were all probably too paralysed from what happened to even notice anything that the green and white cookie was saying…

Wait a minute… what was that on her staff… a green fleur-de-lis?! You remember baking that! This was one of the first ever cookies you ever baked, you’d never forget how difficult it was to bake those special solid jams before giving up after doing it 5 times. What was she doing here? Had she been hiding here during the Night of the Witches? Had she seen your outburst?

You hastily began to approach her, as she noticed you doing so, beginning to back away from you with the same traumatised look in her eyes. However, this led to her to fall from the banquet table… and straight into the ultimate dough.

You tried to catch her mid-fall, but to no avail. Thus, you now stood over the purple mass, having observed her sink down into it. Your thoughts quickly began shifting from worry into morbid curiosity. What did you have to lose at this point? And thus, you began baking her straight from the inside of the ultimate dough itself, in hopes of the result being different than all your previous attempts, almost suffering from a burst of adrenaline as a result from your initial shock, which kept you reaching out for the nearest ingredients you could use.

A dose of concentrated dark magic, a mix of scarlet pomegranate syrup amongst many other things, this soon became the most ferocious and emotional baking you’ve ever done in your life. Your hands were reaching a new level of soreness from the sheer speed of you mixing the dough; sweat and tears dropping from your face and into the mixture, as if you were pouring your entire concentration, your entire emotions, your entire soul into this one cookie as she was mercilessly mixed and sloshed inside the ultimate dough.

Until…

The surroundings and skies shifted and turned into a boiling red colour, as the cookie raised from the ultimate dough, the magnitude of this reaction even causing other nearby cakes you had baked for yourself to gain sentience from the amount of life powder you had scattered during your baking and outburst.

The small cookie seemed much more sinister than ever, with her new red and black clothes, purple dough, horns protruding from her head, and her large black crimson cape. What was she even holding on one of her hands?

She immediately started cackling and attempted to use her newfound powers to scare you, but they were very similar to the dark magic you had started to use a long whole ago and were more experienced as, so it didn’t take much effort to overpower her and prevent her from defeating you. Despite this, her expression and disposition didn’t change in the slightest, as she simply stared up at you and spoke with a sinister voice that sent shivers down your spine.

“My my, you’re a rather interesting witch, aren’t you, creator? Despite seeming so powerful, I can sense you’re scared. You’re unstable. How amusing.”

Your breathing hitches slightly as she speaks, your body stiffening up again as you stared down at her

“I must thank you though. This new body you gave me, along with your powers… how refreshing! But I feel more than beyond that… what are these memories you gave me, hm?”

You began to wonder if you really had accidentally given her part of your soul and memories from how emotional you were during the whole ordeal…

“My whole perception of our purpose as cookies was shattered when I saw your little act, creator! But your memories tell me this was a simple one-off, all other witches only making cookies to be eaten?! Awww, they left you alone for this, did they? And now you’re trapped in this endless spiral of depression and loneliness? How pathetic!”

Your hands began to clench together again as the little cookie continued.

“Well, I’ll tell you that the witches were wrong! I reject this so called destiny! And you should reject your pitiful fate like I have too! ARISE!”

Your nearby newly-living cakes began slowly gathering around you two, but you were too busy still staring down at her to notice them and their howls.

“Why bother accepting the morbid future you’re headed towards? I’m glad to have reunited with you, creator! Your memories tell me that all other cookies you baked all rejected your acceptance and love? They were all not thankful for the life you bestowed them, and neither were the witches that learnt how to bake cookies from you! We’ve both got common enemies; so if you join me… you’ll get your revenge. You’ll make this world burn with me and show everyone the consequences of having abandoned you!”

Despite the fear you developed at this point, the more she spoke, the more… familiar she felt to be close to. You realised that she must hold part of your inner self too; it wasn’t just an illusion when you felt like your emotions and thoughts were being mixed with the ultimate. She’s practically a side of yourself, one that was born from the horrid suffering and emotions that were built up over the years. She was the you that you were hiding away from the world…

And this only led to new emotions developing as the darkness built up around us both. Her words had made you feel lighter, indescribably glad, with a new unhealthy happiness oozing out of your tired heart. Every single word she said stuck to your mind like glue, and you found yourself falling for her words more with each passing second.

Instinctively, you held out your hand, which she was more than happy to descend and stand on the palm of your hand, still staring up at you with the same frightening smirk on her face as you stare down at her. As the darkness kept swirling around you both and your cake creations further, you were only able to tell yourself one thing:

From this point on, your life would never be the same…

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run x reader #cr kingdom #cr x reader #crk x reader #white lily crk #white lily cookie #fanfiction #fanfic #dark enchantress cookie #cookie run x you #dark enchantress cookie x reader

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nico-di-genova · 8 months

Text

Paperwork and Chinese Food

Summary: It was just supposed to be a normal date. Jaime wasn't meant to get so overwhelmed that he launches himself from Jenny's balcony in a desperate search for the air that has left his lungs.

Inspired by a prompt from @averagemartian: too much information. TW: panic attacks

It starts with Jenny. Or really, that’s not fair, because in honesty she’s just the catalyst. What really starts it is the itch at Jaime’s back, where Khaji Da is embedded into his skin, their six little legs like needle points in his spine. It’s the sort of itch that doesn’t go away, a constant low-level annoyance that is now just part of his life. He wants to scratch at it so bad, gouge at the enflamed skin around where Khaji had formed their new home, until he can bury his fingers inside himself and get to the source. He’s taken to picking at his back subconsciously, when he’s sitting down and watching a movie, in the kitchen of their rental listening to Milagro explain to their mother why she’s covered in paint, laying in his bed late at night when he can’t sleep because his brain refuses to conform to anything regarding a normal sleep cycle. He will dig his fingernails into the skin at the notch of his spine, until he’s just there – can feel the promise of reaching that damned itch.

He’s picking at it now even as he’s sat in Jenny’s house – or apartment really, a luxury unit on the top floor where she has a wraparound balcony and a view of most of Palmera. It’s the sort of place Jaime had always thought he would end up, before he realized all of his problems wouldn’t be solved with a piece of paper that cost him six figures of debt. They’ve set up at Jenny’s dining room table. It’s elegant, modern, and made from reclaimed wood that’s been stained and sanded down until it looks less like the notched and un-level version that’s in Jaime’s house – used to be. Used to be in his house, before it went up in flames with the rest of what he had always regarded as home.

Before him is spread a mountain of paperwork. Lease agreements, legal documents, financial statements, all of it scattered across the surface of the table in a chaotic mess that sets Jaime, who is already tense, on edge. Jaime’s name is stamped in clean script across most of the paperwork, because he has been noted as the beneficiary of Kord Industries’ gracious “rebuild the Edge Keys that were stolen from the people who were there first” grant. Jaime went to law school, or at least pre-law, he knows how the corporate paper trail works. If Kord is going to shell out millions of dollars in reparative funds to the family whose home they had first been planning to steal, and then ultimately destroyed, they want his signature as collateral. They’ll take these documents, file them away neatly in a folder stamped ‘Reyes Incident – 2023’, and hand it all over to their legal department who will keep it carefully stashed away from now until the event that took his father from him fades into irrelevancy.

Elbows on the table, arms pressed against his neck so he can feel the reassuring pressure, his fingernails dig further against the notch of his spine, until he can feel one of Khaji’s pincers shift. The bug themself chirps, alarmed, in his head.

“Are you alright, Jaime?”

“What is all this?” Jaime directs his question at Jenny, ignoring Khaji. Even though he already knows what the mound of papers are, he’s still trying to grasp that this is why Jenny invited him over. The dinner she’d ordered in for them is already going cold on the plates she’d placed everything on – an effort to feign a home cooked meal. He doesn’t want to eat orange chicken and fried rice, even if his stomach feels cavernously empty, he knows it would taste like guilt on his tongue and stick heavy in his throat.

“It’s just Kord stuff, it’s not a big deal, just some stuff they need you to sign before they release the money.”

Not a big deal.

Jaime tries to draw in a breath, already feeling the beginnings of anxiety threading its way through his veins. It’s a cold feeling, like ice water is trickling slowly through him and pooling in his gut. He thinks of Milagro’s tear streaked face, the way she had screamed his name, like they were kids, and he was the big brother who was going to bandage her skinned knee and convince her to get back on her bike. Like he was going to fix it all. His hands shake, his breathing stutters.

“I went over everything myself. It’s just the standard stuff, just a formality really. We’re still going to give you the money Jaime, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” Jaime manages, and it comes out venomous. There’s a buzzing building at the base of his skull, a staticky sound. Jaime wonders if it’s maybe Khaji, if they’ve somehow found a way to manifest as more than just a voice and are now buzzing around inside his head like a trapped fly.

Jenny reaches across the table until she’s close enough to brush her hand gently along his bicep. The soothing gesture burns and he flinches away from her.

“Jaime…”

The buzzing grows louder. Jaime looks at the paperwork and it seems to grow in size, it spills off the table, across the tiled floor, fills up the space of the room until Jaime is choking on his own name written in ink. He cannot breathe.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Jenny tries again, still trying to reach for him, to touch him, to keep him tethered here. Jaime thinks of a metal collar heavy around his neck, and then he’s stumbling out of the chair so fast that it clatters to the ground behind him. He trips over his own feet as he blindly stumbles for an escape.

Jenny is still calling for him. He knows none of this is her fault, distantly, he knows that. She is just trying to fix what her aunt broke, and Jaime wants to let her. He wants her to wave some magic wand that he’s always assumed wealth would grant, and for everything to be fixed. He’d have his home back, the photos on the wall, the blankets on the couch, the quiet whir of nana’s sewing machine and the tv playing reruns of his favorite cartoons. He’d have his dad sitting beside him on the couch, and Jaime could curl up against him the way he used to when he was little. He tries to stay in the comfort of that lost place, but the fire finds its way in. There’s a blazing inferno hot against his face, and the paralyzing pain of an electric current keeping him frozen to the spot – forcing him to watch again and again as everything he has ever loved crumbles into nothing.

Jenny manages to grab at him and get ahold of his wrist. He can feel his heartbeat thundering against where the pads of her fingers rest just over his pulse point, can hear the rush of blood in his ears. Benefits of having an other-worldly bug buried in his spine and heightening his senses, or a side effect of his worsening panic, Jaime isn’t sure which.

"Hey. Jaime, look at me,” Jenny pleads.

He tries. He really does, but he gets as far as the worried furrow of her brow before he knows he can’t be here and yanks away with a force that must be Khaji’s doing. He doesn’t ask them to get him out, but Khaji is in his brain now, so they must sense the silent scream building within him. He’s encased in the protective layer of his suit and out on Jenny’s balcony before he can really process any of it.

When Jenny screams his name, scared and confused and mixing with the screams of his little sister that he cannot block out, Jaime is already being launched into the sky.

“You need to breathe, Jaime,” Khaji warns.

Jaime tries, but the air sticks in his chest like a brick. He chokes on a sob and claws at the front of his suit with blind alarm. With the helmet tight around his head and his own half breaths loud in his ears, Jaime cannot think past the base instinct of needing to escape. It is all too much, everything. The itch at his back, the papers on the table, the suit tight on his skin, the quiet sobs he hears coming from his mother’s room every night, it’s drowning him. It’s killing him.

“You are not dying,” Khaji says, factual, “you are experiencing a heightened state of emotional distress. I cannot regulate your nervous system if you will not listen to me, Jaime.”

“I’m trying.”

“You are scared. I understand. But we are safe now.”

Jaime feels tears prick at the corners of his vision, feels saliva pooling in his mouth, feels like he might vomit.

“I can’t breathe,” he cries out to Khaji, hoping they will understand.

When the helmet falls away from him, Jaime sobs in relief. The cool wind rushing against his face chills the heat that has been steadily crawling up his neck and collecting on his cheeks. It dries the tears tacky against his skin. He has always sought out height when feeling overwhelmed. Once, it had been the roof of his house, where he could stand and see the skyline of Palmera in the distance. In college he’d frequented the Wayne building, which housed the school of engineering and also doubled as the tallest building on campus. The door to the roof was usually unlocked, and if not, Jaime would just find the nearest window and open it so he could sit with his legs hanging out over the sill. The height, it soothed something inside him; if he could get high enough he could look down and see the bigger picture of it all. He could feel less live everything was crashing down on him.

Khaji has learned this, in the way that they have learned everything else about him.

“This is the highest you can go without the helmet,” the scarab intones, and then stalls the boosters of the suit so that they hover above the city which has grown small beneath him.

“Are you now able to breathe?”

Jaime tries, finds the air fills his lungs just a little bit easier, and nods, “Y-yeah. Thanks, Khaj.”

"Of course, Jaime.”

They stay there until Jaime comes back to himself, until the fire in his mind is dulled to a simmer, and Jaime can pack everything away neatly. He will sort through it all later, preferably when he’s with his mom and they can lean on each other for support. He will let her hold him as they both cry and he will ask for the horchata she was fond of making him in high school – when homework would weigh him down and he’d emerge from his room past midnight with a headache and an empty stomach. It wouldn’t fix everything, Jaime knows that, but he thinks it could help soothe it all over.

He closes his eyes, breathes deep. It’s quiet here, high above the earth, where not even the distant sound of traffic or music or any indication of life can find him. Jaime floats in a sea of stars, the whisps of clouds, and he feels finally at peace. When he looks back at Palmera’s blinking cluster of lights beneath him, he feels maybe like things will one day be okay.

Khaji returns him to Jenny’s reluctantly, and only at his request. They’re unsure about taking him back to the place that had triggered his panic attack in the first place, but Jaime knows that’s only because it goes against their directive of protecting him. They keep the suit on him, mainly because his clothes have burned away, but also as a layer of defense.

When he lands on Jenny’s balcony, stumbling only slightly because flight is still a foreign concept to him, she is there waiting for him. He can tell from the way she’s curled up on the patio furniture, hair pulled into a messy bun and biting nervously at her thumb, that she hasn’t been back inside since he took off. She’s been waiting for him. When she spots him, she’s on her feet and in his arms in the span it takes for him to blink twice.

“Oh thank god,” she cries, one hand cupping the back of his neck and the other burying itself in the tangled strands of his hair. The pure relief in her voice is enough to make Jaime melt against her.

“I’m okay,” he promises, hugging her back. He hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck, and holds her like an apology. She’s not good with abrupt departures.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs against him, “I wasn’t thinking.”

Jaime pulls away enough to look her in the eye, cups her face in his hands and wipes away the tears with a blue gloved thumb, “Hey. Hey. It’s okay, I’m okay. I just…I just needed some fresh air.”

Jenny nods, sniffles, “Yeah, I know. Your sister told me.”

At the confusion that filters across his face, she holds up her phone in answer.

"I called her. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jaime opens his mouth to say something but instead it’s a half laugh that escapes him. The sound surprises him a little because it feels out of place. But something about his girlfriend frantically calling his baby sister to explain that he’s just blasted off into the atmosphere because of paperwork and Chinese food is funnier than it should be. Jenny smiles before she’s laughing too, and then they’re just two teary eyed idiots giggling on her balcony. Jenny still in her slacks and suit jacket from work and Jaime in his superhero suit.

Eventually Jaime will explain that Kord’s money feels dirty to him, tainted in his father’s blood and dropped at his feet. It’s more than simply signing his name, it feels like giving away a piece of himself, and Jenny will look horrified as he says it. She forgets sometimes, how her wealth has shaped her worldview, and it’s Jaime who puts that in a startling perspective. He’s thankful for her help, but he won’t give any more of himself to Kord.

“My money then,” Jenny will say, “you can take mine. I’ll move some stuff around, I’ll get you what you need. Just enough to rebuild your house. No paperwork, no strings.”

“Jenny-”

“You need your home back, Jaime. You and your family. This is how I can help, please let me do this.”

The paperwork that had loomed before Jaime earlier still sits like a threat at the dining room table, so they sit cross-legged across from each other on the balcony, close enough that Jaime can pick at the fabric of her leggings covered knee. Jaime’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that he’s started to keep in her room, Jenny’s wearing one of his Nightwing shirts he left during his last visit. They’re sharing a bowl of reheated Kung Pao chicken because Jaime’s hunger had finally set in somewhere between him landing back on the ground and the length of time it took him to figure out how to get Khaji to pack the suit away.

Jaime picks at the rice in the bowl with a chopstick and thinks. The money will still technically be Kord’s, given that Jenny is their CEO now. Which is also another thing that seems insane to think about. He is dating the leader of one of the world’s top tech companies, he’s been in tabloid photos as “Jennifer Kord’s unnamed beau.” It borders on overwhelming, so he quickly pushes that to the back of his mind and eats another bite of chicken.

“You do realize this isn’t going to help the Maria accusations,” Jaime says around a mouthful of food, already picturing how his family is going to break out in that damn theme song when they hear.

Jenny smiles, there’s a hint of relief in her eyes, “Yes. But it won’t be like that. It will be just enough to get you guys back to where you were, and then the rest will be all you.”

Jaime knows it’s what needs to be done. He knows his family is sick of sleeping in beds that aren’t theirs, in a temporary rental that reeks of cigarette smoke. They need their own space back, and this is realistically the only way they’re going to get it – since clearly Jaime’s four-year degree is shaping up to be worth absolutely nothing. And he knows Jenny, knows that she’s one of the most honest people he’s ever met. He trusts her, and it’s only because he does that he accepts the offer.

“Okay. Yeah.”

"Yeah?”

“Yes, but only enough to rebuild the house. Nothing fancy. Just…just the same house, okay?” And he knows it won’t be the same, not in the way he means in, but Jenny understands that too and he thinks that’s maybe why they work.

“The same house, I swear,” she says before leaning forward to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky traces of kung pao chicken behind.

She’s the first to head inside. Jaime stays out for a minute to take in a few lungful’s of fresh air, his nerves are still frayed and will be until he finally crashes into exhaustion later tonight. He leans on the railing of the balcony and listens to the sirens, horns, the drone of an airplane overhead. Khaji unfurls from where they’d been resting inside him, and he can feel them taking in the city the same way he is.

“You are still operating at a high stress level,” Khaji says, and it almost sounds like a question, or at least as close to a question as her robotic voice can get.

“Always, Khaj. I’ll be okay, though.”

When Jaime does finally go inside, the papers have been cleared from the table. He doesn’t see them again.

#blue beetle #jaime reyes #jenny kord #jaime reyes x jenny kord #my fic #blue beetle fic #i just really love Jaime and think he deserves nice things #but also he is my milk soaked webkins cat that i like to slam into the wall #i'm also on a mission to make him a nightwing stan

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