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kechiwrites · 6 months

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kerberos

touya, natsuo, and shoto todoroki x f!reader kinktober countdown day four, (foursomes)

synopsis: "...the air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze."

wc: 4k

cw: a dabi-less au, but touya is still a lil fucked up, fem + afab!reader, drunk sex, threats of violence/harm, anal play, fingering, dubcon, foursomes, creampie, oral (m + f receiving), praise, pet names (honey, baby), hair pulling, light choking, degradation, finger-sucking, a little bit of powerplay / dom sub undertones, mdni.

author's note: a fic that didn't make it in time for kinktober last year, finally finished. this originally started as a natsuo fic, but the other boys wanted to play too. (everyone is 20+)

It sounds like someone’s humming, jovially, quietly, when you stir to consciousness, the alcohol in your system thrumming through your veins, loosening your limbs, making it near impossible to guess the hour. The curtains are drawn in the room, the lights low, leaving the room just bright enough to make out the figure above you. Then, the figure seems to split in three.

“I can't believe you got me to do this with you, and I can't believe you dragged Shouto into it too."

A derisive sounding scoff bounces off the walls, and the bed you're lying on sinks with the weight of someone sitting on it. The voice speaking is so familiar. You know you could place it if the world would just stop spinning so quickly.

“C’mon, you saw the way she flirted with us. She’ll love it. I promise.” Another voice stage whispers. A hand brushes your cheek and you follow it, nestling your face into the calloused palm, opening your mouth when a finger presses against your lips, letting the digit settle on your tongue.

“Cute.” The first voice sighs, and it’s too far away to be whoever is touching you, the person who pushes their thumb (you’re sure of it now) deeper into your mouth.

“Good morning sunshine.” Touya Todoroki smiles down at you, all big hands and white teeth and cerulean eyes that meet yours when you finally rouse from half-consciousness. Your face warms in embarrassment, and you draw back, Touya’s thumb withdrawing from your mouth and leaving it woefully, humiliatingly empty.

Your voice is high and tight in your throat when you finally speak, after your eyes have adjusted to the low light of the room. "Ah. Good morning?" You respond, apprehensive and more than a little startled. When you realize exactly who else is in the room with you, the last few hours of the night flood your mind in an instant.

Arriving at the Todoroki Estate for Shouto’s birthday party, drinking a ridiculous amount of tequila with Mina and Momo, grinding against Bakugo until he had to excuse himself to the bathroom, sidling up to Natsuo and Touya in their little “older brother corner”, pressing your hand to each of their abdomens and giggling before prattling on and on about the “family resemblance” and mumbling something about wanting to see if all Todoroki men had “super huge feet”.

You distinctly remember Touya’s knife-sharp smirk when he grabbed you by the chin and murmured to you, “Ask what you really want to ask, honey.”

You also remember whimpering before blacking out right in front of them, crumpling to the floor.

Jesus, that’s embarrassing. Pretty quickly you reason that they must’ve carried you upstairs, and you couldn’t have been out that long, because you can still hear the party raging on downstairs. Your friends are most likely getting drunk in your absence, assured of your safety stashed away.

“I didn’t mean to pass out like that. I just…” You drift off, peeking at the eldest Todoroki through your eyelashes.

“It's fiiiiine." Touya stretches out the word like a seedy car salesman, giving your eyes time to skip from him to Natsuo by his side, to Shouto, who's leaning against the far bedroom wall. "You know Natsuo wanted to keep you all for himself, wanted to lock you up and knock you up.” Touya laughs at his own joke, elbowing Natsuo in the side and receiving a scowl for his troubles.

"But I convinced him it’s only right to share, after all, he wasn't the one who saw you first."

You hear Natsuo mumble something that sounds suspiciously like "neither did you" before he crowds into your vision too. His face up close is a marvel. Steel gray eyes, clear skin and perfect white teeth.

"Is your head alright?" His fingers lightly graze the back of your head and it takes everything within you to not shiver at his proximity.

"Haven't had any complaints." You hiccup your response without missing a beat.

You are definitely still intoxicated.

Natsuo looks concerned while Touya laughs at your expense. Shouto stays blissfully quiet. And though it’s one of your favourite traits of his, it seems it’s short lived. He pushes off the wall and stands at the foot of bed, bringing all three men into your field of vision for the first time.

“Maybe we should wait. At least until we’re sure she doesn’t have a concussion.” the youngest Todoroki looks you over in concern, his face still typically placid.

You sit at attention, head swimming at the sudden shift in your position.

“Wait for what?”

“For us to give you what you asked for.” Touya intones, brows almost reaching his hairline.

Your palms sweat and your heart thumps in your chest, so loud you worry it can be heard over the pounding bass downstairs.

“I don’t wanna wait.” You mumble it so low you can almost convince yourself you didn’t say it. Like the words appeared out of nowhere, spoken by a stupid, reckless, horny spectre.

Four words.

But apparently, that’s all it takes. The air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze.

Natsuo is the first to kiss you, and his skin is so cool, you're surprised you can't see your own breath when you pant a sigh against his lips. His kiss is slow and building, constant, consistent pressure that only stops when he pulls back to stare at your dazed expression. Touya is next, shouldering Natsuo out of the way, his hard on is urgent and searing against your stomach when he plasters himself to your front. Touya crushes his mouth against yours, impatient and searching. If Natsuo is a glacier then Touya is a goddamn wildfire, hot and fast and vicious, all teeth and branding tongue.

Your dress was pretty much non-existent to begin with, strappy black fabric and gold buckles. Natsuo and Touya's hands make quick work of the cloth, stripping you down to your underwear, clothing tossed haphazardly to the ground, discarded, unneeded.

"Are you just going to stand there, Shouto? Because if you wanna watch, that's fine. I just figure our girl here needs as much attention as she can get.” Touya calls over his shoulder, pulling your underwear down your legs. He drops the panties at his brother’s feet while Natsuo circles around you, situating himself behind you so you're reclined between his spread legs, your back resting against his chest instead of the headboard. His fingertips graze a trail in-between your shoulder blades, unhooking your bra, clasp by clasp, pressing a barely there kiss into the middle of your back. You smile at the tenderness of the action even as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening.

The moment doesn’t escape Touya’s attention.

There’s an indent between his eyebrows, betraying his irritation.

“Y’know,” He simpers, settling on the bed in front of you, leering, “I feel like my handprint would look so good,” The eldest brother places his open palm over one of your hips, “right here, permanently. It’d only hurt for a minute” You choke on your answer, but it’s not really a question to begin with. His palm heats on your skin and you scramble back further into Natsuo’s chest, letting him wrap his arms around you,

“Touya, don’t be an asshole.” Natsuo bites, his tone acidic, “You’re scaring her.”

“Then why don't you take charge for a bit, little brother?” Over your head, Touya meets his brother’s eyes, his challenge clear.

You can feel Natsuo bristle behind you, his hackles rising at Touya's goading.

"Fine. Touya, why don't you shut the fuck up and tongue her tits for a while?”

The corner of Touya’s lips curl up, before he descends on you as ordered, mouth nibbling, sucking and kissing at the skin of your chest. The piercings decorating the shell of his ears glint back the light from the lone illuminated lamp in the room, blinding you momentarily before Natsuo angles your head upwards, covering your mouth with his own.

He traces the seam of your lips with his tongue, groaning when you open up for him, the cool surface of his palm tightening around your throat. Your nipples pebble under Touya’s attention, he uses his teeth more than anything else, biting and scraping and only soothing the pain when you cry out when it gets to be too much.

“Fuck,” and Natsuo’s voice is already so wrung out despite you barely having done anything, “you like when he hurts you?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek repeatedly, a perfect contrast to Touya’s canines on your skin. You nod frantically, letting the second oldest sink his teeth into your bottom lip, then soothe the pain with the tip of his tongue.

Shouto crouches at the foot of the bed, watching his brothers touch you with hooded eyes. “I would’ve done this months ago. If you’d just asked me. But you’re greedy aren't you? I wouldn’t have been enough. You wanted them to fuck you too. Didn’t you?” His eyes never stray from your cunt, his voice is pitched low and so, so quiet, it’s almost as if he’s speaking to himself. You stare at Shouto, jaw dropped in shock at the filth pouring from his mouth, and when he finally drags his eyes from your pussy, it takes only a second for him to shove Touya out of the way and kneel between your thighs.

“I-I.” You stumble over your words, the lingering haze of alcohol weighing your tongue down in your mouth, making you clumsy, needy. You give up on speaking coherently, deciding to just shift lower, spread your thighs further, so Shouto can situate himself in between. He places a hand over your thigh, digging his thumb into the underside, crowding so close you can feel the puff of his breaths against your pussy.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me the truth.” He mutters, and you aren’t sure if he’s telling you or reminding himself. Even with Natsuo behind you, away from view, you know they’re all staring at you, you know they’re all waiting.

And it’s mortifying.

You bob your head in the affirmative, hoping it’ll be enough.

“Say it.” Touya urges, his hand on Shouto’s shoulder, finger digging into the fabric of his brother’s shirt.

The words stick in your throat at first, like your tongue is sitting in your mouth wrong, blocking the admission. “I-I wanted all of you.” Touya whistles saucily, Natsuo smiles into the crown of your head, and Shouto sighs, then he gives in.

“What a slut.” There’s so much blood rushing in your ears you almost miss Touya saying it. Instead, you opt to focus on Natsuo sinking his fingers into your mouth, covering your tongue with the rough, cold surface of his digits.

“Our slut.” Shouto corrects immediately and his tone is so insanely earnest you hiccup a laugh, even with your lips stretched around two of Natsuo’s fingers.

Shouto makes good on his promise immediately, his hand sliding between your legs, palm covering your pussy gently before his calloused fingertips move in a silky slide down your wet folds. Your body breaks out in goosebumps, all while Shouto eases two fingers in and out of you, deceptively quiet, letting the room fill with the sounds of you creaming against his hand. Your breath flees as his fingers thrust just inside your slick heat, teasing you with soft friction. You try so hard to stop yourself from holding your breath, periodically remembering how to inhale.

Your thigh is almost uncomfortably warm where Touya’s head lies, cheek pressed to bare skin. He groans happily as he watches his youngest brother’s fingers disappear into the dripping, tight clutch of your cunt.

“Right.” He murmurs, sinking his teeth into the plush flesh below him. “Ours.”

Shouto drops his head to lave at your clit in sweet, probing circles, making your toes curl and your hips twitch. It’s all you can do to not rip his hair from his head when your hands fist in his red and white locks. Natsuo tugs at the tips of your chest, rolling your already hypersensitive nipples between his fingers. It’s mind altering, how badly you want to come from this, your skin is covered in a fine layer of sweat and you jerk and buck against Touya keeping you held down. It feels as though Shouto is doing everything in his power to keep you lingering right on the edge, balancing the rapidly tying knot in your stomach with your desire to have this go on forever.

“As fun as this is to watch, I’m getting a little impatient here.” You watch as Touya palms himself through his jeans, undoing the fly when he realizes he has your attention again.

“We agreed I’d go first.” Natsuo grunts from behind you and Touya's eyes turn flinty in response but his stare never leaves yours, even as he talks down to his brother.

“Well I’m the oldest, dipshit.”

Natsuo continues groping at your chest until you break eye contact with the eldest Todoroki. Your head hangs down, getting an eyeful of Shouto pulling away, licking the taste of you from his lips. You open your mouth, to thank him? To cuss him out for stopping? You just don’t know and ultimately it doesn't even matter because before you can say anything, Natsuo sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, biting down so hard he almost breaks skin.

“Fine.” He concedes, and Shouto wordlessly pulls away from you, eyes downcast and disappointed, like he can’t bear to part his mouth from your cunt. You bear down around nothing while Touya replaces Shouto, tapping the already hard tip of his dick against the puffy lips of your pussy. You buck your hips, silently begging him to get on with it, hoping to provoke Touya into action.

“Should I hold her open, little brother? I wouldn’t want either of you to miss me breaking her in.” He slides his thumbs up the lips of your entrance, keeping you exposed while Natsuo grinds the hard column of his cock against the small of your back. The shine in the eldest’s eyes is borderline scary, his gaze strips all artifice, any blustering confidence. Under Touya’s stare it’s not just your body that’s naked, it’s your fucking soul.

God, you’re really drunk.

Touya fists the root of his dick, slipping the angry red tip over your clit, once, twice, teasing you until you tilt your hips, wordlessly pleading with him again to push inside you. Finally, Touya concedes, shoving himself deep all at once, letting the girth of his cock spread you open. You cunt drips its contentment all over his pelvis, the sound of your hips colliding with his almost drowning out your fevered, breathless pleas.

He presses both hands to your shoulders, pushing you impossibly closer to Natsuo, making it absurdly difficult for you to squirm away.

The way Touya fucks you takes you by surprise. He’s slow, maliciously so. The heavy weight of his dick carves into you inch by inch, like he wants you to go insane. It isn't until he’s halfway in that you realize Touya has a piercing, several actually, concealed by the angle he’d had from above. What feels like six stainless steel orbs bracket the underside of his cock, three on each side. They’re not massive, thank god, so the sensation is barely perceptible at first, but once he’s finally all the way in, his hips flush with yours, the metal nudges and presses against the spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder and when he smirks at you, you struggle to not bite the motherfucker. It’s clear he takes pride in the overwhelmed and impatient expression on your face, keeping his predatory glare on you while he grinds in deeper, not stopping until your eyes turn skyward.

He barely thrusts in and out, opting instead to pick and prod at your already pathetic mental fortitude by crushing his front to yours, bullying your insides with the head of his cock while you shriek and hum and sob with the overwhelming pleasure he brings you. He presses a flat palm to your abdomen, pushing down hard and greedily rubbing his pelvis against yours; “Fuck, you really are something. Natsu, pull on her tits again, bet she gets so goddamn tight.” Natsuo follows the instruction, tugging mercilessly, coercing you into arching your back. Touya takes advantage and slides his free hand under your ass before you can bring your hips back down again. Two fingers rub boldly at the entrance below your pussy, and you flinch violently when Touya pushes against you. You shake your head, hissing from the beginning aches of a forced intrusion and Natsuo and Shouto bite in unison; “Knock it off!”

Touya, to his credit, merely rolls his eyes and moves his hand lower, rubbing at your perineum in slow purposeful circles that occasionally allow the pad of his fingers to catch the rim of your asshole. You squirm beneath him until he starts fucking into you again, piercings, now warmed by your body heat, brushing what feels like every nerve ending you’ve ever had. Touya watches you bounce on his cock, all while you lay in his brother’s arms, thrashing when the feeling gets to be too much. Your cunt pulses around him, milking an orgasm out of him before he can warn you.

Not that you think he would to begin with.

“Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, squeeze down on me, baby.” He jolts forward, and the sound of his pelvis hitting yours is punctuated by the long drawn out groan of Touya being spent. You kick your leg out in frustration when he pulls out, whining low and watery in your throat at not getting to come again. All Touya does in response is lay a quick open-palm slap at your thigh, wink at you and smile, pleased, you assume, to have gotten a nut off before anyone else.

Mission accomplished you guess.

Shouto shoves his brother aside, and you could cry to God with how happy you are to see him between your thighs again. When the youngest brother seals his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking in long, desperate pulls, it feels almost vindictive. Like he’s punishing you for enjoying yourself, for enjoying how his brothers touch you, fuck you. Occasionally, his tongue flicks against it, pressing the peak against the ridge of his teeth, all while he grazes his rough fingertips against your inner thighs. His cheeks are flushed and he’s panting, honest to god out of breath at the sight of you, pussy puffy and used, hazy eyes heavily lidded, mouth slick and parted around gentle, quiet sighs in the shape of his name. He thumbs at the lips of your cunt, pulling you open, spreading you so he can see everything, watching you clench around nothing, watching you leak Touya’s come onto the bed sheets. “So needy.” he mumbles, and you both hang there, just for a second, while Shouto stares, consumes.

And then...he’s on you.

He isn't as big as Touya, but dear god does he make up for it in enthusiasm. So unlike the teasing, drawn out grinding and half strokes of his older brother, Shouto ruts against you like your pussy is the only thing keeping him alive.

The black t-shirt Shouto wears makes his shoulders seem even broader than before, his frame looms above you, arms heaving up and pushing back the weight of your thighs, until Natsuo helps by holding them up too, until you're very nearly bent in half for them. your toes are curled and bounce with every thrust he completes against you. The slow, thick drip of his brother’s cum leaks from your cunt, where the greedy pace of his thrusts disturbs it, sliding down the plush curve of your ass before dripping down into an obscene puddle below you.

The easy glide is perfect, nudging over and over at the rough spot deep within you. The tip of his cock knocks repeatedly against your insides and the sensation disables any and all coherent thought.

You choke on your spit as he fucks into you, gripping the bedsheets so hard you swear you can hear them tear in protest. Your core protests at the strain but you manage it, keeping your legs steady while they bracket the youngest Todoroki’s ears. Shouto tugs you further down the mattress, forcing you to slide down Natsuo’s front, and when your cheek makes contact with the middle brother’s hard-on, you place wet, open mouth kisses on his fly. Natsuo takes a fistful of your hair and tugs, separating you from his cock, brutally. You keen in pain, but Shouto’s dick distracts you from the worst of it, tunnelling inside you and striking that spongy spot that makes your vision go blinding white. Natsuo fishes his cock out frantically, as though he’s been waiting for your go-ahead, which is...sweet. Rather, it would be if he hadn’t agreed to debase you with his brothers while you were still heavily intoxicated. The younger, white haired brother releases you only when he’s completely free of the confines of his jeans, and smacks the length of his cock against your mouth, rubbing the shaft over your tongue when you present it to him for use. Natsuo is thick, thicker than both his brothers. His dick is mouthwatering, straining and red and threaded with angry looking veins you are desperate to taste. He won’t let you take it all though, will only let you kiss and mouth at it while he jerks himself off. Guides you to suck on his balls and stare into his eyes while Shouto fucks you harder, bringing his thumb to the hood of your clit and rubbing with intention. He must’ve been at his limit, because of the three of you, Natsuo comes first with a pleasured grunt, jerking his hips and covering his hand and the side of your face with his come. And though you know logically that it’s impossible, you had kind of expected his nut to be...cold.

Hands trembling, the middle brother returns his attention to your chest, smearing his spend over your nipples, pinching at them in time with the swipes of Shouto’s thumb.

You finally get to come, waves of it hitting you and dragging you undertow, smacking into your body so hard you give yourself a burgeoning headache from clenching your jaw. Your body spasms, over and over and Shouto fucks you through it all, eventually adding his own seed to the mess between your thighs.

At least you think he did. It’s hard to distinguish what happens around the time you pass out from the fucked up cocktail of exhaustion, intoxication and the sedating power of the best dick you’ve ever had.

When you surface some time later, Touya is gone. “Fucked off somewhere,” Natsuo provides when you ask and...well you aren’t sure if it’s a relief or a disappointment.

Best not to think about it.

Shouto is there though, gliding a warm, damp towel over your heated skin, while Natsuo, who it seems, hasn’t moved from behind you, presses soft kisses to the crown of your head, your cheeks, your throat. He plays with the gold hoop earrings you're still wearing, rubbing your earlobes, and tugging on the jewellery every so often.

“How was it?” Natsuo asks, his voice quiet and soothing, and despite having just woken up, you could see yourself succumbing to its gentle tone and slipping into sleep once again.

“Good,” you respond, murmuring quietly. Shouto finishes cleaning you off, tossing the towel into a nearby hamper. “Really good.”

Natsuo chuckles, and his breath huffs over your ear.

“Good.” He tightens his arms around your middle.

“Good.” Shouto nods, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Good.” You repeat.

and so, i make my glorious return to bnha. support city girls who would do anything, including kill, for one night with soft yet firm dom natsuo. reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

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turquoizxe · 10 months

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𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

Hobie Brown x Black!Fem!Reader

content ― drabble; sweet, and straight to the point, black hair appreciation with a lot of fuckin’ , pain kink if you squint

wc ― 0.9k (got a little carried away)

There were no words that came close to how enamored your boyfriend was with your hair.

Hobie Brown, Spiderpunk himself ― not a day went by that he would get his hands on you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he fucked you as you wanted, hands tangled into whatever style you had on.There was almost nothing that he wouldn’t do for his girl, and boy, was he down for anything as long as you were involved.

He loved your versatility, the way you could rock any style you wanted so effortlessly, it made his cock hard in ways that even as bold as he is, was too scared to admit.

Hobie always let you mess with his hair, and that’s because it always remained the same, often letting you wash it, and sometimes you’d place hair accessories whenever he wasn’t paying too much attention. Your hands on him put him at ease.

No, no wigs, absolutely not. He loves the wigs ― a little too much. One night on the couch, he tugged your hair too hard, that shit went flying and you found it behind your television after you pushed him off you. Ya’ll didn’t fuck for at least 2 weeks after that.

When you did the big chop, and went bald, you’ve never seen a nigga so feral over you, and not just sexually. Oiling your scalp, his fingers running over your soft coils. And when you dyed your hair, you just had to pray for your cervix.

You weren’t on board with him touching your hair at first, especially when it took hours for it to look the way it does. However, he was willing to start off slow and sweet. Whenever you got a style done, you always told him to wait at least a week before he touched your hair. He would always ask beforehand.

The first time he touched your hair, you had in knotless braids, nearly down to your supple ass that Hobie also loved very much. You were giving him head, the braids were on the floor, refusing to put them in a ponytail due to being tender headed, despite how heavy they were. The braids were getting in the way of your beautiful face, and Hobie wasn’t having it.

“You too pretty to be hidin’ from me, baby.”

Slowly, his hand moved your braids, one by one, out of your face so the pain wouldn’t be overbearing. He would still sneak in his fingers into your scalp, softly massaging it with the oil that was present, and keeping your braids out with way so they wouldn’t be stained along with your face when he came. He lifted them up, and he saw your eyes roll back from the sudden relief. You loved when he touched your hair, you just never cared to admit that. But he knew.

The second instance, it was soft locs, and as much as they cost in your area, not even your boyfriend would find a way to play in your hair. You wore your bonnet around him. While he couldn’t see your hair unless you were out together, he loved tugging on your slipless bonnet when he fucked you from behind. You moaned for him to stop, but he felt your walls clench everytime he pulled at your locs. You loved that shit, and he knew it. Or, when you ended up fucking in your car, pushing them out of the way so he could tell you how pretty you looked for him. His hand, wrapped around your neck, pulling you back to kiss your neck, making your body feel even hotter.

“Your cunt was made f’me, yeah? I know you like that shit.”

That was the first time he was actually able to see them, and you could tell he loved it, still fucking into you after he spilled his seed, his fingers toying with your clit, etching another orgasm from you.

The third interaction, your hair was in its natural state, because it was wash day, and you were sure that Hobie would have to wait a while until the water was hot again with how long you took. He would start taking it upon himself to join you, washing each others hair, him eating you out, and fucking you against the bathroom counter while your hair was conditioning in a hair mask. You often liked having your hair done for your boyfriend, but mostly for you. You didn’t wear your hair like this often, so you would wear a bonnet around him whenever your hair isn’t done, which is a rare occasion. For him, it’s a shame, he loves playing with your hair in its natural state, his loving hands offering to massage and oil your scalp, as your hands were also occupied, playing with his guitar. Because of him, wash days slowly became your favorite thing to do together.

He had grown to be more affectionate with your hair, he loved it so much because it was apart of you, not physically, but spiritually. The way your hair accentuated your beauty, no matter what style it was in.

And no matter how expensive it was, he started paying for your hair, so he could play in it as much as he wanted. He paid for it anyway.

He still made sure to wait a week before rocking your shit tho.

Just a small break before I continue my series lmao, back to scheduled programming! If you haven’t checked out my series, it’s in the link below. Enjoy :)

-turquoizxe.

‘Just For You’ (Hobie x Spider!Fem!Reader) Masterlist

#hobie my beloved #hobart brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #atsv hobie #atsv #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown smut #hobie x black!reader #hobie brown x f!reader #hobie smut #spiderpunk #spider punk #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x reader #hobie x you

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billskeis · 4 months

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ᡣ𐭩 club encounters w bill

lights were flashing, music was blaring and bodies collided against one another. you were at the club with your friend in hopes to get anything and everything off your mind of how you found your ex-boyfriend cheating on you.

fuck this shit, downing another shot as the alcohol trickles down your throat.

gender is specified as male reader :)

“hey hey! that was like your fifth shot.. in a row!” your best friend elise said, as she rubs your back to ensure that you’re okay. scoffing, you let her know that you’re fine, “don’t worry about me you know about my high tolerance, plus.. we’re here to have fun!” nodding, “you’re right, fuck that guy and fuck that side hoe!”

clinking your shot glasses, you drink another type of liquor that tastes way better than the first one. mm, fruity..

“i’m gonna go dance, come with?” she asks, you shake your head, just simply not in the mood to. elise just kisses you a goodbye to reassure you she will be back after a moment. you nod at her, laughing at her silly antics, you love this girl to death.

from across the room, you look, look at the various activities the strangers within your vicinity are engaging in. drinking, dancing, grinding, making out. for those, it was a night maybe those want to remember, or maybe not.. for you? it was a night to get your mind off the stupid shit that completely wasted your time.

that was until you spotted someone who stuck out like a sore thumb.

he had black hair, that seemed to spike a bit out of his head. eyeshadow accompanied his eyes as he tries to blink the harsh lighting of the club. he wore all black, which seemed peculiar because it was a summer night and it was getting hot, especially hot in the building.

he shooed away another figure that was engulfed in large fabrics of clothing, he had brown matt locs with a straight cap to compliment, holding it all together. his manicured hand managed to irritate the latter until the shorter figure made eye contact with you.

in attempts to look away, anywhere else, you couldn’t help but try to sneak a look at the two once again.

for a short moment, you saw that the dread-head had pointed at you, making the taller one look in your direction. awkwardly, you swirl the liquid in your cup. looking once again, to see the pretty black-haired person still looking at you.

at this moment you’re panicking. shit, what if he thinks i’m weird? wait, who gives a fuck you’ll probably only see this person tonight and then never again. you turn on the island seat, facing the bar to scan the alcohols in seeing which one you haven’t tried yet.

you just got paid at work and decided that this night was gonna be a night to yourself and therefore you needed to spoil yourself.

with a tap on your shoulder, you’re met with not just anyone. but the person you had just made intense eye contact with more than once and had looked like a total loser to (he doesn’t think so).

“hey,” he spoke, his voice a tad nasal, but it was sexy. “hi..” “by yourself?” “nono, my friend’s dancing, see? she’s the one with the tight black dress who—seems to be dancing with that… dread-head..”

shaking your head, “elise.. this is the fifth guy tonight,” “don’t worry, that’s my brother, your friend is quite the dancer,” the boy laughs, leaning his head in a little closer to yours.

“that she is,” sighing, “well, i hope i can accompany you tonight, bill,” he holds a hand out for you to shake, “y/n,” you reciprocate the gesture a tight grip on his. his hands are soft.

“you know i already thought this but seeing you closer just confirms it,” bill leans his elbow on the counter of the bar, his eyes gleam even in the dark lighting that flashes once in a while, “confirms what?” you ask in curiosity.

“how cute you are,” “oh—! ahem, might i say the same for you,” really y/n? you’re blowing it tonight. while face palming yourself, all bill could do is laugh. he loves your awkwardness and all you could do was just stare at him in awe.

he really was fucking gorgeous.

from behind him, there you saw. your ex, and he was closing distance. closing distance between the two of you with the girl he had his fucking dick in while you entered the shared bedroom, bags in your hands to gift him in showing you how much you loved that man.

with such short time, you make your move. “you swing that way?” asking the boy in front of you who had seemingly been talking to you but couldn’t pay attention to whilst you noticed an abomination behind him.

“i do, why—?” bill’s words were cut off by your lips. although in shock, he didn’t push away, giving you the okay to continue the kiss. you swipe your tongue over his lips in asking for permission to enter.

opening his mouth, you glide your tongue within his, intertwining the muscle with one another not even leaving room to breathe. the kiss was messy, but shit was it hot. bill was whiny, as your tongue explored his mouth, he couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

his tongue tasted that of alcohol, to which you had enough to drink but tasting it on bill left you wanting more.

he was especially sensitive whenever you ran your tongue on his. whimpering at the moments you pressed down on his tongue piercing, as the foreign material of metal is fondled with.

bill didn’t know what to do with his hands, so his arms swung over your neck as you pressed your bodies together. in a bold movement, you pressed your knees in between bill’s legs to hit his crotch. you felt a tent begin to form within his pants, not even noticing the growing bulge in yours.

doing this led bill to moan into the kiss. god were his sounds addicting even in such a room where your voices were barely heard by one another. you just needed to hear more.

bill ended up pulling apart from the kiss, saliva in between the two of your mouths. his breathing erratic, and eyelids were heavy, brown irises dark. his lips were now a little more plump than before, but that was inevitable with the way you were sucking on them.

“y-y/n..” “i’m sorry, was that too much?” you ask him, rubbing his back. he leans his head into your shoulder, shying away as he nuzzles himself into you, “mmm nnh.. just felt really good..”

as you look past his body that was now cuddled into yours, you see your ex boyfriend and his side whore looking at you in shock. sticking your middle finger up, all the two of them could do was cringe and walk away into the opposite direction.

seems as though their plans to mock you were ruined.

remembering, you totally forgot for a second that bill was basically on your lap, “bill?” “mhm?” “let me get your number yea..?” he looks up from your shoulder, as he smiles brightly. cute.

opening your phone, you hand it to him to once again see his manicured hands. seeing them up close you didn’t notice the colour but of course they were along his get-up. black.

finishing up, he closed your phone and handed it back to you. getting up from your legs, he propped himself upon the seat next to you. holding his hand out, you instinctively grabbed onto his intertwining your fingers.

“now, lemme get to know you after you basically fucked your mouth onto mine, hm?”

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fluff #2000s #fyp

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silent-raven13 · 9 months

Text

The Punks love Sunflower

(All the Hobies are from those concept art designs from the movie. There's many fan arts of them. One being from drenched-in-sunlight on here. I love their artworks.)

Miles never knew he would get this much attention, in fact he never thought he would be considered attractive. He wasn't handsome like Miguel or cute like Pav or cool like his Hobie. But here he is being swarm by multiple Hobies.

Hobie from Earth 138c having long thick locs with a half up half down hairstyle, he holds Miles' hand being romantic: Hello, gorgeous

Miles merely smile: Hello, I'm Miles from-

Hobie from Earth 138d with blond dies spike hair wearing one purple contacts and another black one: HI, Luv. Fancy meeting you here! -being louder and more cheerful out of the three-

Miles turns to him: H-hi! I'm from Ear-

Hobie Earth 138e having box breads with a red hair ties, his voice much deeper and calmer than the three: Black cat. -he's thinking out loud-

Miles: Huh?

Hobie 138e: Black cat... your cute like one... -he flirted-

Hobie 138c: Luv, are you single?

Hobie 138d: I saw him first!

Miles being handle by Hobies almost being too shy to give them an honest answer: Actually I have-

Hobie 138b, Miles' Hobie: Hey, you blokes! what in bloody hell are you doing? Dats my Sunflower! -He scowls being the jealous one- He's mine! -quickly hugging his boyfriend from behind-

The three Hobies laughs being mischievous: You can't have him all to yourself. You have to share! Right, Sunflower!

Miles: Hobie, it's okay. They are new here. -His boyfriend scowling at the three-

Hobie: How in the hell Mr. Grumps allow these blokes here? -hugging Miles tightly hearing the three mocking and flirting with his Miles-

Hobie 138c: Oy, that's insulting, mate. Right, Sunflower?

Hobie 138d laughs: Yeah, don't be a fucking wanker! Oy, sunflower, how about you show me around- you know, just me and you! -he flirted giving a wink-

Hobie 138e: Sunflower, I really like that name. It's perfect for you. -he stares into Miles' doe like eyes- Yet, you look like a deer. Can I call you, Bambi?

Miles: Huh, what? Me, Bambi? I don't think-

Hobie 138e: Bambi! That'll be your name from me to you -he winks at him-

Hobie scowls almost growling: No! His name is Sunflower!

Then the group was unaware of another Spider-Punk coming into the group: Who da fuck is this? -they all turns being surprised at the figure-

Hobie 138 with black hair and light skinned tone stood with his hands on his hips.

Miles: Oh, you're Hobie 138, huh! Miguel told me, you would arrived today! -his eyes big almost gleaming which caught off Hobie 138 off guard-

Hobie 138 crosses his arms being more of a jerk: Pfft, that's arse. Fuck, him. I got scold because I killed a dump anomaly.

Hobie 138c: Pfft, figures.

Hobie 138 looks at Miles: I'ma call you, Kat.

Miles: Huh?

Hobie scowls at Hobie 138: Da fuck you are. He's mine

Hobie 138's eyes darken: Huh? Are you telling me what to do? -These anarchist never likes being told what to do- I can call him whatever da fuck I want, mate! Right, Kat!

Miles: why Kat?

Hobie 138: Because you look like a cat!

Miles saw Hobie 138e chuckles: So I've been told...

Hobie picks up his Miles: He's mine! You blokes can't have him! -he runs off with Miles. The others follow him-

From afar Peter B. Parker arched his eyebrows at Miguel: I thought you hate Hobie.

Miguel: I don't hate him. He's a pain in the ass. It's good he gets humble. -slurping his milkshake-

Peter: That's why you invited all these punk spider people?

Miguel: Hobie needs to learn. -he slurps his milkshake-

Peter: Huh uh, so... Punk Miguel is part of your plan?

Miguel arched his eyebrow: Who?

Peter points at a younger Miguel dressed in punk fashion: Him!

Miguel: Fuck... -he forgot to double check the invite list-

Hobie runs holding Miles until Punk Miguel pick Miles from his arm: AYE! Who da fuck are you?

Punk Miguel speaking Spanish growing up in Mexico: Oye, este hombre te está molestando? -talking to Miles-

Miles' eyes widen at the tall younger Miguel. 18 year old Miguel O'Hara with a bit darker hair, dark brown eyes and piercings. His skin tone a bit darker than Miguel 2099: No-no, estoy bien!

All the Hobies stop scowling at Punk Miguel: Oy! Who da hell is him? -they already don't like Miguel 2099, now there's another him!-

Punk Miguel: Qué? -not great with English especially British. Hell, he hardly understand them- No entiendo.

Miles: Okay, everyone calm down! Let's be rea-

Hobie 138: Your a fucking poser, mate! Take that shit off! -pointing at Miguel's black leather jacket-

Punk Miguel scowls: Qué dijiste? -He knows what poser is and he hates that fucking word.-

Miles: Hey, guys! How about-

Punk Miguel place a kiss on Miles' cheek, all the Hobies glares harshly at him: Lo quieres? ¡Ven a por él! -he begins running while holding Miles just to pissed them off-

The Hobies chase after that asshole while Miles practically fainted by the drama: I give up!

Peter turns to Miguel 2099: Was this part of your plan?

Miguel sighs: No...

(Part 2)

#punkflower #flowerpunk #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse

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fourthwifematerial · 4 months

Text

garden of forking paths | 四 | part i. guilty

yandere lord tengen x fourth wife, eiji. word count: 7,077. explicit content. 18+ MDNI

man proposes, heaven disposes.

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains ultimatums & coercion of an intimate nature, deception, forced marriage, dubious consent on all fronts, foreplay, degradation, consummation & deflowering, forced orgasms, self harm (not in the way you might be thinking) & scarification, nonsexual voyeurism, an off screen rape & accompanying aftermath, murder, threats of suicide, and a very apologetic author for taking on another behemoth when she still has works in progress

She’s never worn a piece so fine as her sister’s wedding kimono.

Bathed in white, the shiromuku settles heavily on her body and soul… A chilling wave passes through her as she stares herself down in the mirror. Crown to cunt, settling deep in her gut. Her nerves are at a fever pitch, threatening to boil over and lash out at any moment.

She hardly recognizes the woman staring back at her. Hardly an easy feat for one such as Eiji. The heavens saw fit to bring flesh to her reflection, one she was forced to protect their whole lives.

On their worst days, Emiko was more her charge than blood. A painful reality for the younger of the two. Years spent in her shadow, ready to strike those that would see her harmed. For flowers so lovely as the twins, it was ugly work in the Red Light District.

No. Her looks were always a matter of contempt rather than ignorance. The bride is abundantly aware of what she looks like.

The palette, however, is new.

A traditional visage for a traditional bride. Something the girls at the brothels were never granted beyond the realm of a marriage born from ashinuke or a buyout.

She couldn’t give into the temptation to touch. She wouldn’t risk damaging the canvas, eyes and lips painted as they were.

There was little need for it before all this. It wasn’t something she ever envied or missed. The closest she came to seeing herself with a full face was her sister.

Still. Not a trace of either sibling in the looking glass.

Eiji has never looked so beautiful. Nor as frightened.

Even through the beads of sweat lining her temples, she was grateful for the katsura wig concealing her sparse hairs. Remnants of her days in the Sisterhood, her cut had yet to grow past her ears. Her keeper was generous enough to postpone the marriage until after their wounds had healed.

It wouldn’t do for the ruse to end on such a glaring oversight.

The pins adorning the piece look costly. Too extravagant for one as modest as Sister Eiji. Hazarding a guess, it looked to be worth more than a month’s wages at the brothel.

Cocking her head to the side, her eyes catch on the embroidered flowers that rest upon the uchikake. The sharp angles and thorns give birth to a dangerous suggestion.

“Not enough…”

She gives voice to the intrusive thought before thinking better of it. Seppuku is on the girl’s mind, though she’s not fool enough to follow through. Would that she could and spare herself the devastation of this whole affair.

A delicate touch presses on her shoulder. It’s soft, but there’s an edge… as if the owner doesn’t have the strength for a proper scolding.

“Remember what this is for,” breathes a hushed voice of admonishment. “If I’m to marry him, I’ll never forgive you.”

Standing vigil is her better half. Wrapped in more fabrics than she’s accustomed; her kimono a muted black, with what little she has left of her once prized locs concealed under a zukin. The wimple is an unassuming periwinkle. Nearly so blue as the virgin snow.

While Eiji might dance with the idea, Emiko has every intention of bedding it. Neither sister needs the reminder…

Even once more and I’ll die. By my own hand if need be.

The threat lingers unspoken between them. Emiko draws back her hand, holding the wataboshi with a white knuckled grip to match. Placing the bridal hood upon her sister’s head, she collects herself with a sniff.

They meet each other’s gazes in the mirror, color on their lids nearly matching at this point. While one wore rouge, the other bore far less intent. Her eyes are red rimmed from endless days and nights spent sobbing. The anger and resentment, the fear, the loathing—it’ll end her life before the blade has a chance to.

Placing the bridal hood upon her sister’s head, Emiko nods in approval.

“You’re ready.” Her voice is broken, still shot from the fight.

Drying the twin tracks running down her cheeks, she lets her go.

No processional. No one to give her away. No tears in tribute.

She doesn’t even see their betrothed until the purification rites.

For as taboo as it sounds, she doesn’t consider Lord Uzui to be her husband. All the same, she’ll take her sister’s place as his lady wife. She has no choice, not if she wants to keep her alive and unmolested.

It’s all she can do to keep her sister in her prayers as she draws water into the chouyuza’s ladle, washing their sins clean. Twice, in as many hishaku, before rinsing her mouth with a third.

Uzui works himself over in silent tandem. Much as she’s loath to admit it, his refined montsuki haori and golden hakama make the man striking… gorgeous, even. His starlight hair was worn up when last she saw him. And now it rests, barely grazing his broad shoulders.

This is the closest she’s been to someone of the opposite sex who wasn’t a client. He hardly made a favorable impression to start. She didn’t know him well enough now to gauge his intent. Whether she’s walking into a den of wolves or a field of rabbits strikes her as a mystery she wouldn’t solve until he was already inside her, she’s sure of it.

Their union is a somber affair before the Shinto priest. Intimate. Tense. Almost severe.

The priest gives the blessings.

With the marriage announcement, Uzui bows where they stand. She realizes too late that she missed the prayers in favor of the mounting anxieties taking root. Nudging her out of her daze, she follows suit. Muscle memory and a lifetime of obedience takes her hand and guides the path before her.

The saké teases her lips and she finds herself tempted to drink before long. It’s not until passing off the small and medium cup that they are permitted to imbibe. She focuses on her throat, still burning from the alcohol as they move on to the rings. It keeps her present of mind enough to fulfill the task she’s been charged with.

A ring is slid on her finger. His handling isn’t rough with her but he’s hardly gentle. When she does the same, she notes the calluses on his battle-worn hands—a testament to his years spent honing his skills in combat.

The warmth throws her. She stills beneath his touch… Even worse when he’s cast his garnet gaze on her like that. With that smile on his lips, he almost looks fond. He turns her hand over and gives her wrist a small caress, far more tender than he’d been with the rings.

She has the grace to blush. The watashobi only allows her so much coverage from his prying eyes, so she takes advantage where she can. His vows barely register. When it’s her turn, her voice is a hollow echo of the priest’s dictation.

“I will marry this man,” he says.

“I will marry this man.”

“No matter what may come, I will love him, console him, help him. Until death.”

“No matter… No matter what may come, I will love him. Console him. Help him… Until death.”

“These things, I swear.”

“These things… I swear.”

The shrine maiden presents twin Sakaki branches to the couple. In turn, they place the branches upon the altar. Together they bow twice and clap in quick succession.

With the stinging of her palms and roar of her ears, it’s over.

It’s finally over.

In every other respect, this is only the beginning.

There was before Tengen… and after.

In another life, she might have been simple… a simple girl of simple means, grown into a simple woman.

What bliss.

No simple girl would ever endure the hand fate had dealt her. They’d never even know it’s touch, let alone see the blow coming.

Back when Eiji had a purpose, she was a nun.

Her mandate was as simple as things went for her. Find your sister, they told her. Find her, mind her. The task proved easier said than done for an Oiran in the brothels of Yoshiwara.

No. If she was anything like the girls to grow up not knowing any better, she’d have thought it a heavenly night.

The scene was a deep wash of cerulean and coal; falling snow aglow with what moonlight peered behind the kawara roof. A contoured edge ran crisp over the engawa, shadows and flakes stopping in tandem before she could so much as wet her feet.

It was the tenderest mercy she would be afforded in a place such as this.

The languid stream of smoke bled from her lips, too soon to think over another drag as she set her gaze on the abyssal sky.

Her brows furrowed, eyes pleading the heavens for intervention when she couldn’t will the tragic whimpers and panicked groans from breaching the walls.

The only warmth known to her was the burn between her fingers and the fury in her veins, neither poison more bitter than the last.

If her lungs didn’t fail her, it was bound to be her heart.

After a terribly violent gasp, Eiji tossed the remains of her cigarillo into the mounting snow, the pressing need for quiet far surpassing any desire for escapism. Flush palms ran over the veil concealing her ears.

Enmeshed in a deathbed of white, the snuffed out embers found themselves buried under the fresh flakes.

“Stop it.” A whispered bid—painful as it was fruitless. She broke on the words, knowing they’d never reach the bedroom. “Put her out of her misery, damn you.”

If that fucker didn’t come soon, she was going to have to finish the job. Tear the stuck pig limb from limb, out of the frying pan and into the fires of Hell. He would bleed for this.

She wouldn’t betray her vows. She only sought to avenge her sister’s rape. Nothing more, nothing less.

You can’t afford to fall apart. You know she can feel you. You have to be strong for her.

And before she could make good on that promise, there was nothing. Not a breath, not a sound.

The silence was deafening and nearly so oppressive as the screams.

The divine stall, dutifully prostrate before the raging tempest.

Any relief felt was dead on arrival. She knew better than to get comfortable. Her shoulders were still wound tight as a bow primed for the shot. Tense and waiting.

Rooms away, Eiji could hear the pleas so viscerally…

“Eiji—” she cried, her voice a death rattle that cut to the marrow. “Sister… Help me.”

a crash in the distance.

a whisper of fabric on the

wind.

the final screams to prelude

disaster.

The shoji was barely ajar before she’d pushed her way inside. She rushed past the hall of incredulous voyeurs, all with the same questions on their minds and lips.

She didn’t even know where they’d put her tonight. She had to follow the commotion like a dog after a vendor in the streets.

Desperate. Near rabid with its goal to fulfill. Out for blood.

If she centered herself, she could be by her side in an instant.

But her mind was racing. She had no time, no focus. All of her being narrowed on the sole objective of leaving this place for good.

Ashinuke beckoned with an outstretched palm whose finger curled so seductively, there was no need to ask twice.

The door flew open with a shout, “Emiko!”

She surveyed the room. Save the cowering fuck in the corner, it was a barren sight.

Dragging him by the collar of his disheveled robe, she hauled his sweating hull from the ground.

“Tell me where they took her,” she demanded. “I’ll gut you, I swear it.”

He shook beneath her. When the night air kissed the tracks on her cheeks, she didn’t have to look hard. There was a gaping hole in the screen of the shoji, ushering the cold inside.

You cried for me…

She shook the memory, focusing solely on the path ahead of her. Her entire world fixated on what little she could see from outside the door; a mere pinprick of vision in that busted screen. All she was able to manage were the snapping swords of some third party who’d entered the fray.

The pig squealed, fear coursing through him at the prospect of a fight.

“Useless,” she spat.

Blood came when the words failed him. The blade from her sleeve made fast work of disposing his filth without preamble or mercy.

sank into his ear…

pull out game for

the gods.

…dragged across

his throat.

He slumped pitifully at her feet, exsanguinating below her turning frame. She was already following after the chaos—dried her tears and righted the cloth just under her eyes.

The body was still warm as she made for the biting cold.

Eiji sullied the courtyard’s pristine canvas. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Didn’t make it very far in the dark; someone flew overhead, missing her entirely.

What should have urged her all the more only brought her to her knees.

She couldn’t afford to falter like this, not when the wager was her sister’s life.

“No one’s after you,” she muttered to herself. “There’s no time for this… Get up.”

She had to press on. So why couldn’t she move?

Eiji refused to give way to the fear. Surveying the perimeter, there was little to be done and less to be seen.

It had to be now.

Closing her eyes, she leveled her breath. Slow. Deliberate.

She emptied her lungs with a hiss in her throat and put her all into seeking Emiko out.

With the rolling of her stomach subsided, she picked herself off the street.

Nails bit crescent moons into the meat of her palms, arms trailing behind her as she took off into the direction she foresaw.

She felt her. She saw her in mind’s eye.

Smelled the cracked wood in the air. Burnt, not yet ablaze.

Blood… so much blood.

Eiji found her before too long, limbs akimbo under the caved-in front of a vacant business.

Her sister wasn’t alone. Shock coursed through her as she took it all in.

Three women crowded the body. One at her head, keeping her still, as the others made quiet work of removing the debris from her broken form.

She didn’t have to turn to know they were less alone than the moments that had passed. “Is she dead?” The man asked, feckless to a fault.

He was an eager one, wasn’t he. If this had been out of character for the man, if he’d been a stranger to them… surely they would have reacted.

The smallest among the women only threw herself at him with tears in her eyes.

“Lord Tengen,” she sobbed. “We couldn’t find the lair. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded towards Emiko, his eyes never straying from her unconscious frame. “And the girl?”

“An Oiran.” The name fell from Eiji’s lips with the ease and vitriol of a curse, “Kyogoku House.”

Every stranger encountered this night turned to her, suddenly occurring to them she was worth acknowledging at all. Turned on her just as quickly.

“Kakushi are meant to be seen… not heard,” he warned with a snap, all bitterness.

An incredulous echo fell from her lips, “Kakushi?”

He pinned her down, swiftly and effectively cutting the indignant echo from the root.

“Now what did I just say.”

The man towering over wasn’t asking, not remotely. He looked at her nearly expectant, all but daring her for a response.

Thick arms neutralized the struggle, pressing into her to drive the point home. Voice lowered in tandem with his head, the words in her ears enough to fill her gut with coal.

“If you’re going to interrupt, at least make it worth my while. Might just be tempted to take matters into my own hands and modify the offense.”

“Don’t. Please… stop. You can’t touch her. Please don’t touch her.”

Eyes fell shut as she laid witness to the swan song rasping from her sister’s bruised lips.

Tears streamed, hot and itching. Time slowed to a crawl. “Emiko. Forget about me,” she bade. “You have to save your strength.”

Gravel dug into her cheek the rougher he forced her down. A hitch in her breath. Eiji kept her gaze fixed ahead, locked on the carnage.

The women on assist weren’t concerned with lowering their voices.

“The hell’s a nun doing in the Red Light District?”

“You can’t say that in front of her, idiot.”

She burned under the heat of their scrutiny. Even more as his touch grazed her prone form, searching for weapons. It seemed he’d been blessed with brains to match his brawn and beauty after all.

“You’ve got red on you,” he noted. “You must have seen something.”

“Not my blood.” The words ran cold on her tongue. Near metallic as the blood staining her veil. “He’s dead now.”

“And the demon spared you after it fed?”

“Sir, there was no demon.”

He turned her over. Crouched over her thighs, urging her to continue.

“Patron. Something took her and he was a shit witness. I eliminated my sister’s rapist. If you have complaints, I suggest you keep them to yourself.”

“Eliminated, huh?” He pressed, incredulous. His eyes returned to the women tending to Emiko’s injuries. “Don’t suppose she’s one of ours?”

His aubergine companion spoke with unbidden ease. “Lord Tengen.” A pressing gentleness, as if shepherding apoplectic cats in their twilight years rather than the man straddling her. “In polite society, there are certainly ways to extract such information.”

He eyed her beneath his rippling thighs. Considered the account she’d woven for him. “You really don’t know anything?”

“If I knew what you were talking about, I’d tell you.” She met his gaze, beseeching. “Please, just help my sister. Kill me for my crime if you must, but please… She needs to leave this place.”

When the weight on her thighs was suddenly relieved, she had little time to breathe. He loomed over her, making fast work of tossing her over his shoulder.

“Don’t go getting too dramatic on me, Sister. Isn’t blind faith supposed to be your thing?” He gave her backside a condescending slap before taking off.

Too burnt out from the fight to argue, she merely allowed herself to be lulled by his hellish pace.

She hadn’t slept in so long. The push and pull of the jostle took her back to that day.

Fractured memories of the shore. She was no more than a child then. Now a woman grown, the bitter cold kissed her cheeks.

She looked out on the water’s edge. The drag of the waves. The crash as they touched back down.

Walking into the sea, she collapsed. Falling onto her knees, the water soaked her kimono. She abandoned her zukin, letting the habit drift away. When she looked down, there was an isolated pool of blood.

Her eyes widened, hands shaking as she dragged her touch underneath. The source of the bleed was heavy. She pulled desperately, fighting the mounting tide and her own limitations.

When it breached the surface, she was loathed to lose her grip.

She knew that face. She wore that face.

Realization dawned on her and she was all the more desperate to retrieve what the watery grave that saw to claim from her.

Limp in her arms. On death’s door, if she hadn’t crossed the Sanzu River already. When she opened her eyes, they were worse than void—they were dead.

Eiji woke with a start, her own eyes locked on the ceiling of the infirmary with a scream locked in her throat.

The medical wing remained so unclouded, so quiet, there was a small part of her that considered she might be dead already.

Eyes blinking into consciousness, she wondered to herself how everything got so fucked.

“The prodigal daughter wakes,” came a rasping welcome.

“Emiko!”

She nearly tripped over herself trying to reach out to her; the hand beckoning her closer so small under the covers.

Closing the distance between them, Eiji was treated to a slap to the cheek. She didn’t even register it at first. Her expression thrown, ears roaring.

“You’ve killed me, bringing me here.” Her voice was as weak as her will to live. “Good as signed my death warrant, you bitch.”

Eiji stared in shock before it hit her as one thousand blows.

She was asleep.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t protect her. Hell, she was barely able to find her on time. She’d failed her and the burning realization that there might be more threatens to consume her.

“What happened while I was out?”

Emiko turned away with a hiss—either from aching injuries or her own malcontent, she’ll never tell. “You heard what Lord Tengen said,” she groused. “Demons and the like. He works to annihilate them…”

Her throat went dry in an instant. “What?”

“Sissy, I’m tired.”

Already having rolled to her side and brought the bedding past her ears, Emiko’s eyes pooled. She let the tears fall away from view but couldn’t hide the way her shoulders shook.

exhaustion. trauma. betrayal.

Thoughts swirled in a vicious cycle. She was as furious as she was suicidal.

exhaustion. trauma. betrayal.

The unspoken reverie was loud enough to hear even separated from the bond their blood allowed.

exhaustion. trauma. betrayal.

It was all Eiji could do to crawl into bed with her, arms wrapped around her trembling body.

“Are you more angry that I couldn’t save you… or that I did?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Emiko rolled to face her sister, curling tight against her as a babe to its mother.

“Too late,” she teased gently. Her voice is gentle as the touch that ran up and down her back. “Then tell me. What is it?”

“Just cursing the heavens for damning us with this face and body. And all the bastards who came before Uzui.”

Eiji kept her eyes on the wavering fist curled around the sterile linens they both wore. Trailing her fingers up her back, she brings her palm to her sister’s hair. Pulled her in close, stroking her scalp. She said nothing, merely gave her the means to speak.

“He’s a Hashira. Former Shinobi, by his own account.”

“Shinobi,” she echoed, incredulous. Aren’t they meant to be a dying breed?

“I can’t deliver on the promise I made. I was coerced into accepting his hand, it was the only payment he wanted…” Emiko kept talking over her, vision clouded as if in a daze. “I couldn’t just let him kill you… we needed safe passage.”

A fresh tremor coursed through her. The sight chilled Eiji’s blood.

Bloodshot eyes nearly so vacant as her dream stared back. She didn’t have to hear it to know.

“Emiko… look at me.” She was desperate with tears of her own threatening to break.

“I can’t go through this again. I refuse. Even once more and I’ll die. By my own hand if necessary.”

Her head shook, stunned to silence.

“Those women are his wives. Says I should get used to them.”

“I can’t let you go through with this!” She refuted further, “I won’t. Not for my sake.”

Holding her hands flush against her ears, Emiko’s eyes shut. Face twisting in anguish and grief, she pushes away from her. “Sleep first, then dream.”

“I’m not dreaming. I’m pleading… Let me help you.”

“You don’t understand,” Emiko argued. “That night… It left me with scars, scars you haven’t seen. He saw me. He saw all of me.”

Eiji’s face flushed with anger. “He fucked you?”

“No… He only kept me talking while I was bandaged. Said he wants to wait until the wedding night to touch me.”

“Show me,” she insisted. “If he’s seen it, I need to see.”

It’s a beat before either moved, let alone spoke. Eiji pushed herself off the bed to stand on shaky ground. She was wary, but didn’t argue. Her sister looked away in a pastiche of offered modesty.

“You can look,” she prompted, voice faint.

When Eiji returned her gaze, visions of that night returned with a vengeance.

pierced. mutilated. shattered.

Breaking on a sob, she saw her under the roof collapse so vividly as she did that night.

pierced. mutilated. shattered.

Her sister’s skin was tattooed, marred with the visible representation of her own failure. Hypertrophic scars cut around her waist. A contracture piece gnarled on her back. Superficial grazes claw across her breasts.

pierced. mutilated. shattered.

She had to avert her eyes, choking on her own shame. She would never forgive herself.

Head raised to the heavens, she was anywhere else.

“The Madame will never have me back now,” Emiko noted wryly. “At least there’s one good thing out of this mess, even if it won’t last—”

With the shattering of glass, the words died in her throat. It took seconds for her eyes to catch up, watching her sister follow after the broken vase. Eiji was there, already on the ground. There seemed to be no rhyme, reason, nor method to her madness.

“What are you doing?”

She sifted through the rubbish on hands and knees, seeking out the perfect instrument for her needs. She’d have to start soon while the sight was fresh in her mind… The rest were tossed aside.

“I’m not letting you down again.”

“What does that even mean?” She pleaded, “Eiji, stop… You’re scaring me.”

And still, she refused her. Not until hope was secured.

Lord Uzui ushers his bride inside the bedchamber, quickly sliding the door shut behind him.

no prying eyes, no vying wives.

Eiji makes to sit on the marital bed, still lost to the events of the day. It’s an absolute miracle her knees haven’t given out already.

“Not so fast.”

The command chills her to the marrow. He’s behind her before she can react, let alone flee. Uzui pins her in place, a belt of his corded arms wrapping around her middle. Despite the warmth, she’s frozen in place as she stiffly shies from his touch.

His voice in her ears only drags her further. “Let me look at you.”

It’s not permission he’s after. He’s taking what he wants tonight.

Kissing down the column of her neck, he gives her tit a rough pinch. The assault punches a groan out of her throat, “Lord Tengen, please.”

“Look at that. My prized whore acting like a virgin for her husband. How quaint is this.”

“I just don’t want to sully the garments.” She pushes past the fear and finds her voice. “With all your wives, I don’t see you stopping at four… who knows when you’ll need it again.”

The man drops his arms. There’s a soft sound, almost muffled. She looks over her shoulder and he’s laughing behind a manicured fist. Her eyes widen, the whiplash becoming all too much to bear.

He watches her, watching him. He doesn’t react to being caught. Doesn’t scold her or tease. Merely lowers his hand, leaving only a seductive beam in its wake as he leans forward to take the wataboshi hood from her head.

His gaze lingers on her lips. Before he thinks to act on base impulse and desires, he turns to place the hood away for safekeeping. She trails after him and shirks off the uchikake, offers him the robe and fan. Fingertips graze, earning a hum of anticipation from her husband.

“If you’d prefer me not to do the rest, I suggest you undress yourself.”

She bows. “Thank you, Lord Tengen.”

“Your respect and frugality are refreshing.” A sigh escapes him. “With any hope, you’ll rub off on the others… In more ways than one, I imagine. And I can imagine quite a lot.”

Her cheeks flush at the suggestion.

He gropes her ass as he passes, already stripping as he takes his spectator’s seat at the foot of the bed. Uzui watches her as an expectant beast would his prey. She takes a steadying breath when he bids her to start.

Eiji thinks of the shamisen players in the brothels. She wills the strings to the forefront of her mind. Her eyes are closed as she tugs at the knot of her obi-jime…

No more than a feather on the stream, the silken cord spills to the floor with unbidden ease.

Her ivory obi joins the pool of fabric at her feet. She gives herself over to the music, abandoning her nerves.

Deftly unfastening the datejime leaves her kimono hanging loose. She sheds the rest like a second skin, stepping out of her confines in only her slip of a nagajuban.

More than a chrysalis. A rebirth.

The juban is her only defense. She knows it’s guileless to hope, to dream. It’s all she could have wanted just to keep her sister from the bedchamber.

No. She will do what needs to be done.

When the last whisper of cloth leaves her exposed, she’s quick to cover herself. A futile gesture born from her days in the convent.

A hand catches her wrist and she’s far too exhausted to fight him. Neither for her body, nor her modesty.

Fingers curl around her own as he guides her to the bed. Pushing her gently, back flush against the futon, he holds her in check with only his right hand; keeping her arms raised so nothing might obstruct his view.

He appraises every inch of her flesh, taking his left to explore with the pad of his touch.

neck and collarbone. sternum. breasts.

Kneading her aching tit, Uzui nods in approval. “Scratches are gone,” he notes. “Didn’t even leave a scar.”

her ribs. her waist.

He traces the lesion with reverence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t of more use to you then.”

The words tumble from her lips before she can stop them. “You’re blameless,” she says under her breath.

“Come again?”

“My… my sister. She feels every bit of shame for that night. There’s nothing left. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

Moments pass without a word. Just when she’s about to take it all back, he’s pressing kisses into the worst of it.

Eiji chokes on a whine, eyes widening in shock. “Ah!”

“I think your sister would disagree with you there,” he whispers tenderly against her belly. “I only met her once but she looked like she wanted to kill me for even breathing the same air as you.”

Her heart stutters in her chest, conflicted between the sensations roiling through her and the threat of being found out. She keeps her mouth shut. Neither pleasure nor information would pass her lips. Not when she’s come so far…

She would not let her down again.

Once she found the ideal shard of glass, she made fast work of undressing herself.

“What are you going to do?” Emiko asked desperately.

Eiji walked to her sister’s bedside. She caressed her face. “I’m going to protect you.”

She returned to her own bed, drawing the curtains around her.

Before she lost her nerve, she pressed the glass into herself. She kept digging the piece further inside until she was certain it would take.

She ignored the cries and pleas of her sister. She had to do this. She had to make this right.

With a trembling fist curled around the bloodied glass, she took a leveling breath.

“Once more,” she urged herself.

She dragged the piece along her back, piercing herself to the hilt. Eiji didn’t need a reference to know. She’d never forget for as long as she lived… It would take her a great deal longer to forgive herself.

Falling to her knees, she curled in on herself… With her body shaking from the shock of it, the deed was finally done.

“Never… Never��”

He laps at the trail of pink with his lips, relishing what reactions slip past her schooled features.

“Even still, it’s healed up nicely,” Uzui remarks, dragging her back with him. “Clean margins, not a trace of infection.”

“You certainly know your way around a battered woman.”

“If you recall, my girls are former Kunoichi. Scars are a part of the work culture… You’ll fit in perfectly, my little prize.”

Eiji masks her disgust with a breathy titter. “And here I thought I’d scared you away,” she quips.

“Thought or hoped?”

With those three little words, the room chills around her. She won’t allow herself to falter.

“I am but a traumatized woman.” A dangerous answer to feed a dangerous question. “You don’t think they're mutually exclusive?”

He bullies her legs open with the mass of his bicep. Abandoning her arms, he locks her in place with a firm hold on her hip. Rakes his nails against the meat of her thigh, all too quick to soothe the path with his tongue, just as before.

“Answer me,” he growls against her.

Before she can think better of it, she pushes against his shoulder. He buries his face in her cunt, undaunted by her silent protests.

One swipe of his tongue and she’s gone.

“I… I thought!” Her thighs tighten around him, despite herself. “We had—ngg! We had a… a deal—”

A harsh slap to thigh has her opening back up for him. She stifles a cry behind a shaking palm. He carries on batting at her clit in rapid succession, her groan turning helpless when he buries himself past his knuckles.

Two fingers with a wail on the third, too thick as they scissor inside.

She’s anywhere else.

The cacophony of noises bleeding from her lips has her mind racing in tandem with her pulse.

Unrelenting pleasure. Blinding sin.

He makes quick work slinging her legs over his shoulders. Colors her thighs with his affections, cups her cunt. She jerks further into the assault.

Propping himself on the balls of his feet, he suckles his fingers. Uzui laves up the juices, savoring every morsel of her essence.

“And you’d never do anything to rescind a deal, would you, sweet Emiko.”

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t dare dignify him with a response. If Uzui wants to go fishing, he can drown in her silence for all she cares.

Slow to start, he presses down and teases her all the more. Middle finger lapping her juices, he fucks them deeper every time. His wrist twists without resistance. It’s all she hears. He latches onto her clit, a steady staccato of tongue and teeth with his forearm shining with sweat and her own wetness.

Bracing for the forced release, she maintains a white knuckle grip on the sheets beneath her.

Thighs shaking. Stomach tensing. But it’s over before she can fall over that razor thin edge.

He pulls out without mercy, without warning. She sobs at the loss, sweat beading along her temples and brow.

Uzui takes his time spreading her lips, appreciating her cunt twitching around nothing apart from a watchful eye and wandering touch to match. He slaps her tit, diving back into the fray. She’d scream if she thought it would help.

She’s never felt anything like it.

His nose prods her clit while he gives her a tongue lashing she’s never known. He laps up her juices like a condemned man drinking his last.

Hooking his fingers, Eiji sees white. She came under him and he fucked her right through it, fingering her while spreading his idle hand over her middle. His pinky caresses her scar with such care, almost worship.

It takes her far too long to register he’s been grinding into her splayed thigh.

He’s hot on her bare skin, heavy and thick… She doesn’t have to see him to know.

As if he can read her trepidation like a damn book, he takes her hand and drags it encouragingly over his cock. “You can touch,” he offers.

She says nothing, denying him all the more. Pushing against his advances, she means to end this encounter. Any longer, she fears he may see fit to fuck her into the little hours.

He pushes her back no less than three times before relenting. Fed up with her efforts, he scoffs angrily. “Should’ve brought Suma in to sit on your face,” he laments, all petulance.

Tossing her over his shoulder, he settles her before the bureau.

“Hands against the wood,” he instructs her curtly, nodding where he wants her. Damn bastard’s already slotting a knee between her legs. “Forearms, too.”

When she does so, he roughly forces her back into an arch. Eiji hears the whistle of the strike before the pain registers. Feels the dresser’s chill graze her nipples before the burn on her bottom. She grits her teeth, detaching herself from the scene.

His touch roves across the handprint left behind before drawing back to hit her again.

Appreciating the canvas before him is a short lived reward.

One hand with an iron grip on her chin forces her attentions. He pinches and gropes what he can reach with the other, the taunting lilt of his voice never leaving her.

“Open those eyes.” The order sends tingles down her spine. “Let me see my gorgeous bride.”

Another thrashing leaves her crying out. He tightens around her jaw, tears flowing freely now.

She does as he commands, her deep brown gaze at last meeting his scrutiny.

It’s when she catches sight of herself in the mirror that her resolve nearly crumbles at his fingertips.

where did emiko end…

…where did eiji begin?

He takes her in his arms, flush against her back as he cages her against the dresser. Uzui sucks a bruise just under her ear, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He feeds his cock inside her, ears singing with every scratch of her nail against the wood.

A rough gasp tears its way through her. Eiji remains frozen to his whims as he callously fills her to the hilt. Barely four thrusts as he meets no resistance.

He can’t help but groan at the sight of her.

Stuck-still, she’s too shocked to move, to speak or breathe.

It’s not long before he tires of her cockwarming and his grunts fill the room with a renewed pace. One sharp snap begot the rest and her cunt fell so tight around him.

He sets a punishing staccato, the sounds of them filling the room in a symphony gone wrong. Coaxing the cries from her, Uzui kept pushing and pushing… bottoming out until he was coming apart himself.

“How can a whore like you be so damn tight,” he murmurs, nearly slurring his abuses. “All that work getting you open? What a waste…”

Beads of sweat make a mess of his forehead, the silver strands of his hair catching on his skin. She flushes beneath him as he nears his release.

“Keep those eyes on me,” he commands. “I want you to see who’s making you come.”

She holds more than her will as she looks at her husband. She holds her contempt. Her rage… Her every motive and intent. That’s why it’s such a shock to them both when she meets him thrust for thrust for thrust.

even as the wooden borough grates against the floor and wall. even as he works his spit inside her asshole.

“Fucking close—”

He throws his head back with a trembling exhale and stuttering hips. Eiji’s unbidden wails fall on deaf ears as he spills his seed.

His shaking breath echoes off the walls in a strange marriage of ecstasy and quiet discontent. Would that he could, he’d stay buried inside her forever.

Uzui pulls out with a hiss, beyond loath to leave her pristine warmth. Releasing her, his gaze falls to their combined fluids trailing down her legs. He spreads her cheeks, reveling in the sight of his debauched bride.

Spent. Humiliated. Done. Eiji rests her weary head against the wood, between her trembling hands.

No blood, she relishes inwardly… with Lord Tengen none the wiser, Eiji has fulfilled her duty. If there was a shadow of a doubt, it’s gone now. He wouldn’t find proof of her innocence. It was gone by her own hand the day she gave herself her sister’s scars.

Kisses press against her spine, all the way down to her tailbone. He massages her bruised and bruising flesh while huffing in the musk of their consummation. She twitches under his watchful eye and it’s all the prompting he needs to dive back in for seconds, albeit gently this time.

The deft tongue that pleasured her is the deft tongue that cleans her. She doesn’t shy from it this time. He feels the stark contrast as she bears down on his face, grunting his approval as he lazily stokes himself.

It’s not just for her benefit. Tengen knows that despite the closed doors, this intimate moment was always going to be shared.

Not his wives. Not even the heavens.

He knows the nun is sitting vigil at this exact moment, waiting outside those very doors to tend to her battered sister.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that was her role back in Yoshiwara. Poor girl’s never known the touch of a man, has never come apart by another’s tender care… judging by her disdain that night, she’d likely only ever heard the shameful encounters of brutes and bastards.

Who was he to deny her? To deny either of them?

If the Sister wanted a show, he’d give that holy voyeur the most flamboyant fucking of her damned life.

Emiko sits beneath a wash of indigo, the stars shining bright enough to spite her. She wrings her hands, anxiously praying he’d be done with her soon. The sun was barely set when they arrived back from the ceremony… He’s had her in there for hours.

It’s all she can do to pray he’d leave her soon enough.

“Stop it.” The familiar prayer falls from her lips, a hush of a bid. She broke on the words as her sister had done so many nights. “Put her out of her misery, damn you.”

In the quiet isolation of the veranda, the only voyeur is the moon above. Emiko weeps for her sister. She weeps for herself.

No one will mind. No one is around to hear it.

#yandere tengen uzui #tengen x oc #tengen x wives x oc #can be read as #tengen x reader #tengen x wives x reader #yandere tengen x reader #for my brown eyed girlies #.garden of forking paths #.shi #honestly the tags are down to a marketing issue... please advise if possible

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infinityerlingx · 1 year

Text

Baby Fever

erling haaland x (fem)reader

plot - babysitting erling’s nephew has erling’s mind all over the show

genre - fluff

a/n - i do not know the name of erling’s nephew, so he will be called Isaac in this fic :)

part two here !!

part three here !!

You loved babysitting Erling’s nephew, the way his big eyes would stare up at you, with a little toothy grin as you made him giggle. The small boy only being 2 years old, he was beginning to talk a lot and wanted to run around everywhere.

Gabrielle had brought him over to Erling’s apartment one afternoon, with her struggling to find someone to look after him, you were always happy to take care of the little boy. His smile grew as he saw your face, opening his arms to be held by you. Gabrielle thanked you once again before making her way out. Erling was in the kitchen, making some food for Isaac as you brought him into the kitchen to meet Erling. Erling’s face lit up as you passed Isaac to him.

The afternoon was spent in the living room, Isaac on the carpet, multiple toys around him and colouring pages scattered around, Erling sat on the edge of the sofa, watching with a smile as you and Isaac drew pictures together. His mind couldn’t help but wander and think of you doing this with your own child in the future. Erling knew for a fact that he wanted children with you, he just couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Isaac was beginning to get tired, his little yawns made Erling get up from the sofa and pick him up, taking him into the guest bedroom and letting him have a short nap.

“He’s asleep” Erling spoke softly as he wandered back into the living room, finding you on still the floor, picking up Isaac’s toys and cleaning up the papers, before stretching your body and standing back up. You sent him a smile before sitting back onto the L-shaped sofa, getting yourself comfy as Erling joined you, throwing himself down next to you, pulling you into him for a cuddle.

“Glad he’s asleep, tired me out all of this today” You hummed into Erling’s chest.

“I guess it can’t be that bad can it? I mean look how much fun we’ve both had today with him” Erling spoke.

“What do you mean?” You spoke sitting yourself up, watching his face.

“Y/N, you’re so good with him, seeing you with him has 100% made my mind up” Erling spoke seriously. You knew what he was insinuating but you wanted to hear him say it, so you played dumb, not wanting him to catch on with your mind. Your eyebrow cocked making him sigh before speaking again.

“I want a baby with you” Your eyes widened at his confession, even though it wasn’t a surprise, you didn’t think you’d hear them words ever come out of his mouth. “You’re the only person I want to have in the rest of my life. You’re everything to me Y/N, I don’t see myself with anyone but you, I want it all with you, the big house, with 2 maybe 3 little versions of us running around the garden” He carried on, his hand linked with yours. “If that’s what you want, but I really want a baby with you”

“Of course that’s what I want Erling, I want a baby with you too” You spoke and you’d never seen Erling smile so much in his life. His hands on your hips pulling you on top of him, sitting on his lap, he pulled you into a hug. His head tucked into your neck. His arms tight around your waist, your cheek resting against his head. “You’re the only one for me Erling” You spoke softly. Erling squeezed you in response, your heart fluttering at his actions.

Isaac had woken up just less than an hour later, finding you and Erling cuddled up on the sofa, his little arms extended wanting to be included. You picked him up, placing him on your lap, Erling watched you with a smile on his face. It was like you were made to be a mother.

Gabrielle arrived at the apartment after another hour had passed, Isaac jumping up and running straight for his mum. Gabrielle thanked the both of you and you said your goodbyes to her and the little boy, giving him a little kiss on his forehead.

Once the door was locked, Erling had his arms wrapped around your waist, his head on your shoulder, you leant into his touch, resting your back against his strong frame. You let out a deep sigh, your eyes fluttering shut after a long day. Your hands rested on top of his own. Your eyes opened again, turning your head you placed a short kiss onto Erling’s cheek.

“Wanna go get in bed and watch some Netflix?” You questioned quietly, Erling hummed and you felt his head nod. His arms loosening from your waist as he pulled away and walked with you to your shared bedroom. The pair of you getting changed into comfy clothes before getting into the large bed.

After a while the movie was forgotten about, you both lay facing each other, your leg pulled up over his waist, one of his large hands on your thigh, one of your hands resting around his shoulders, playing with his long hair.

“I mean every word I said today, seeing you with Isaac confirmed everything, I know we’re only young but, I mean, I think we’re both ready aren’t we?” Erling spoke “Unless you don’t want to yet, I’m ready whenever you are” He carried on, not wanting to rush you.

“Erling, stop worrying. I think I’m ready” You spoke with a smile. Erling looked at you with widened eyes. “Yeah we’re young but what’s stopping us? Nothing” You assured him.

“I’m so excited min kjære” He spoke softly, leaning down and giving you a long kiss. “Plus there’s one other thing” He said, a smirk making its way onto his lips.

“Hm, what’s that then” You replied, confusion spread over your face.

“You’d look so sexy pregnant, my baby inside of you” He smirked, his hand pushing against your lower stomach making you bite your lip slightly.

“Is that right?” You teased, pressing a small kiss over his Adam’s apple.

“Indeed it is” He replied, looking you up and down, his tongue darting out before kissing you again.

“Let’s do it then” You spoke against his lips, Erling didn’t need any more encouragement, he was bound to make sure that he would do anything to please you and make this the best night for you both.

Next thing you knew you were lay back on the bed, Erling’s large body covering you, his lips on yours and you knew that you were in for an incredible night.

#erling haaland #erling haaland blurb #erling haaland fluff #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland angst #erling haaland fic #erling haaland smut #erling haaland fanfic #erling #haaland

672 notes · View notes

getwhore · 4 months

Text

Come & See Me

❀Summary : Nothing major, just loverboy connie & his girlfriend.

❀cw : None really, whooole lotta fluff (barely any smut, very subjective at the end.)

❀Notes : YALLLL...I'm back (prolly not for long.) had a long hiatus, college is no joke. decided to put something together while im on break. not proofread so ntm. like always if u enjoy plssss like & reblog. asks are always open my loves <3

“Amour, when are you finally gonna come ‘n see me? Been missing you.”

Hearing his soft, but deep voice emitting through your phone’s speaker made your stomach flutter.

Connie had been in France for a few weeks now for ‘business’. Most men can handle being away from their partners for months or years at a time. Connie does not fall into that category. He’s definitely on the clingier side, not being able to handle being away from you for longer than a couple of hours. He’d been begging you since the day he left to come with him, but every time you turn him down.

“I told you Con, I gotta wait for my paycheck.” You sighed as you curled the ginger colored hair around your curling iron. “Tickets to France are not cheap. And I’ve been missin’ you too, a lot.”

“Then lemme pay for your ticket. You be actin’ like imma make you pay me back or somethin’.”

You set the iron down and face your phone. Seeing Connie’s face in that lighting truly did make you wonder how you bagged that. Connie looked at you still, waiting for your response. You knew Connie had more than enough money to pay for your ticket, maybe even your whole family’s ticket if you wanted him to. You just hated having him spend so much money on you and you can barely afford to spoil him back. Even though he refuses to allow you to, you still want to give him as much love back as he’s given to you.

“Connie no. You already do too much with that spoiling shit. I wanna get it on my own, you know that.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Damn mami, stop being so damn stubborn. Just lemme help you.”

You picked up your curling wand again, twisting the ginger loc of hair around it. The more you thought about it, who were you to deny Connie? You knew if you said no, he’d just keep asking. That’s how you got the new Birkin hanging from your wall, and the bouquet of flowers sitting on your dining table, and the ginger lace you’re curling as you look at his puppy dog eyes. Finally, you give in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. You can buy the ticket.”

“Merci, mon amour.”

“Just don’t buy me no first class shit Connie. I’m serious.”

He just chuckled as he booked your tickets on his computer. A few minutes later, you got an email. Looking at the message, you saw Connie had booked a ticket for early the next morning, and it was first class. You rolled your eyes and removed the wrap from your head. You fluffed your hair and fixed your edges before walking to your closet for an outfit.

“Matter of fact, iré a buscarte yo mismo.” Connie mumbled under his breath.

“What’d you say Con?”

“Lemme call you back mami.”

You said goodbye and heard the dial tone a little after. You continued searching for an outfit, finally finding one. When you finished getting dressed, you grabbed your phone from your vanity and headed out of your room.

As you made your way to the kitchen, your phone rang. Picking it up was like holding up a mirror. You saw Connie’s contact at the top of your phone, but took the time to adjust your hair a little. After a few seconds you accepted the call, waiting for the reception to pick up before seeing Connie’s face in the camera. You sucked your teeth.

“Damn, Connie. You close enough to the phone or what?”

He chuckled, pulling his phone farther away from his face. He set it up on his desk before rummaging through his room. He was out of view, but every few seconds he’d throw a pile of clothes in the opposite direction. You squint your eyes, waiting a few seconds to confirm that what you were seeing was what you were really seeing. After a moment, you saw another pile of clothes fly in and back out of view again.

“Connie, what the fuck do you have goin’ on over there?”

You damn near choked on your water as he walked back into frame. He was shirtless, sporting a pair of sweatpants that were slightly too big for him as they sagged at his waistline. He bent over to look at you through the phone, flashing a smile. Damn near blinded you.

“Regarde-toi, tu es belle, bébé.” Connie muttered, licking his lips sensually.

You didn't completely understand what he was saying, but you knew enough to know what he was saying. It made your face heat up a little. You cleared your throat, maintaining your composure.

“Merci, Connie, but what are you doing over there?”

“I said it earlier, miel, I’m gonna come and get you.”

“Come and get me from where, Connie?”

“From the airport, duh. Cmon mami, I know you aren't that slow.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping Connie off before grabbing your keys from your kitchen counter. You locked the house up and started up your car, setting your phone in the phone stand beside the steering wheel.

You and Connie went back and forth during your drive. He complained about you not letting him buy your clothes, you complained about him begging to buy your clothes, and then complained about yourself being ‘too nice’ by giving in.

“Sabes que no quiero que pagues por nada, cariño.”

“Ingles, Connie. You know my Spanish ain’t good.”

“You know I don’t need you payin’ for nothing mama, it’s all on me.”

You rolled your eyes, turning the engine off and stepping out of the car. You locked the doors, heading to the entrance.

“What store you at, mama?”

You giggled, walking into the front door and greeting a few employees. “Well, since it's on you, I need some more Fenty. I’m at Ulta, baby.”

Connie quietly winced, packing a few buds into his grinder.

“Pace yourself, you know how you get in Ulta, and Sephora, and all these other places.”

You rolled your eyes, walking to the foundation aisle. You picked up and tested multiple bottles of foundation, finding the right shade. Dropping it into your basket, you continued to wander around. You got to the hair product aisle, looking at the hair curlers and blow dryers. You picked one up, looking at the box before hearing Connie’s nagging on the phone again.

“No lo compre. You have enough curling irons.”

“But I don't have enough blow dryers. You know what Connie, how are you gonna tell me to buy what I want, but when I do issa problem.”

Connie coughed after taking a rip from his bong. He set the glass on his table, looking at you with small eyes.

“Not a problem, baby. Just tryna teach you better spending habits, that's all. But, if you want the iron then buy it, amour.”

You finished up your shopping, moving from Ulta to other clothing stores in the mall. Once you finished, it was almost 4PM. You took a quick trip to grab some food before finally making it home. You tossed your bags onto your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine. As you plop onto the sofa, glass of wine in hand, you finally let yourself relax. Connie was still on the other line (and had been for hours) but he was silent aside from the occasional background noises. You stared at him on the screen, watching as he paid close attention to whatever game he’d been playing.

You sigh loudly, making Connie’s head turn in your direction. He pauses his game and turns his attention to you. “Qué pasa, baby?”

“Nothin, Con.” You yawned, sighing again as you set your wine glass on the table before you. “Just sleepy.”

“You gotta stop stayin’ up so late, baby. That shit fucks with your head eventually.” He scolds you (but not rlly).

You snuggle up under the blanket on your sofa, moaning from the comfort. You don’t respond to his semi lecture, just allowing yourself to relax. It doesn’t last that long though and you’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

Grumbling curses and complaints, you shuffle to the door and open it. You look around but nobody’s outside. Instead, a box sits on your welcome mat. You grab the box and close your door. Flipping the lights on and making your way back to the sofa, you see Connie’s back on the game. You call him, putting the box in the camera.

“Connie, did you send this?”

He squinted his eyes at the box, his eyes widening immediately. He smiles and leans back into his chair, one hand combing through his hair while the other nurses a neatly rolled blunt.

“I bought that like two months ago. Was supposed to be for our anniversary, but it'll definitely come in handy for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You try to piece together his hints. You’d honestly forgotten all about your flight the next morning.

He chuckled, taking another inhale from his blunt. “Don’t stress out about it, mama. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Yeah alright, Connie. Don’t make no promises that you can’t keep.”

He scoffed, ashing his blunt in the tray. “What exactly does that mean, baby?”

“The last time you were talking about some ‘tomorrow’ you passed out as soon as we got to the hotel. Talked allllat shit and spat all that game, just for me to not get no dick.”

“Ah, that’s what you’re worried about? Ne t'inquiète pas, bébé. Je te baiserai bien demain. You won’t even know what to do with yourself when I’m done with you.”

It was your turn to scoff this time, rolling your eyes. “Aight, if you say so. But when I have you begging for me tomorrow, I don’t wanna hear nothing.”

He laughed, mocking your words while you looked at him irritatingly through the camera. You took the gift box, wine, and your phone to your room to begin packing. Connie ended the call shortly after for a meeting. You took this time to listen to some music and pack your suitcase. The multiple glasses of wine had you feeling extremely relaxed. You’d find yourself distracted, singing along to whatever song was playing or dancing to the beat (or both). It took you two hours to thoroughly pack your suitcase, having to take many dance breaks and trying on multiple different outfits.

Once you knew what you’d packed tightly into your suitcase was what you were taking, you grabbed the box cutter from your desk. Carefully, you slice through the thin tape over the box, setting it aside afterwards. You open the box slowly, your eyes widening as you look into it. Before your eyes was a somewhat elegant white lingerie set. It included the one piece lingerie and a silk robe to match. You picked it up out of the box, admiring the frilly pieces attached. Under the robe was a pair of heels to go along with the ensemble. Finally, you picked up a small pouch. You opened it, finding a note inside.

‘Feliz aniversario, mi corazón. Can’t wait to see u in this later. -Con’

You packed everything into a small bag, which matched with your suitcase. You’d finally finished packing. It was almost 11pm, so you decided to put your bags in front of the door for tomorrow. You placed a pair of sweats and a hoodie out for your airport outfit tomorrow. Finally, you turned off all the lights in your apartment, scheduled your alarm, and curled up under your blankets as you fell asleep to the soft murmuring of the tv.

Early the next morning you’re up an hour before your 4am alarm. You use this time to do some last minute arrangements to your luggage, fix your hair if necessary, and do a little makeup.

Your flight was at 6:45, so you needed to be out of the house by at least 5:30. You didn't leave until 6, meaning you’d have to speed to the airport and try your best to get through and on your plane. Luckily, you made your flight on time (only because of a delay) and took off safely. You sent a text to Connie before turning your phone on airplane mode before drifting to sleep.

You woke up to the flight attendant softly nudging you, letting you know you’d be landing shortly. You thank her and get yourself together. When the plane lands, you make your way to the baggage area. You text Connie, confirming your arrival before you grab your bags and head to the front to wait. As you made your way to sit in a nearby chair, you heard someone call your name. You looked to your left, then to your right, but you didn’t see anyone. You heard it again, but this time it was closer. You turn behind you to see Connie jogging towards you. Immediately, your bags are abandoned and you meet Connie, finally getting to feel his touch and inhale his scent after weeks of going without it.

Connie pulled away, kissing your temple before stepping back. “Damn ma, you look so good. Tu m'as manqué, bébé.”

“I missed you too, Con.”

“Your French is getting better I see.” He teased. You smacked his chest, walking to grab your bags. Connie tsk’s as he takes your bags and carries them himself. The gesture was just bare minimum behavior, but it still didn't keep the butterflies in your stomach from forming quickly.

When you stepped outside of the airport, you didn’t expect to see the night sky mixing with the near setting sun. When you asked Connie for the time, you didn’t expect to hear him say it was 4pm. You were still adjusting to the time adjustment so your brain was somewhat foggy. When you made it to his car, he opened the door for you first and allowed you to get comfortable before putting your bags in the trunk. When he gets in the car, he can't help but to lock the doors and kiss you. He missed you way more than you knew, but you knew that he’d do anything possible to make it up to you.

“Cooon, not here..” You whispered breathly in his ear. He just groans and pulls away from you.

He kissed you one more time, then turned on the car. The drive to his hotel was somewhat silent. You’d think he’d be more talkative because of how badly he missed you. Instead, he kept a firm grip on the steering wheel, only speaking a few times the whole ride.

When you arrived at his hotel, he opened your door again. You fought with him to carry your duffel bag up to the room while he carried your suitcase and the room key. The hotel was beautiful to say the least. When you walked into the room, your heart fluttered and thumped in excitement. The room was dark except for the candles flickering. When you flipped the light switch, you inaudibly gasped. He had petals on the ground leading from the walkway to his bed, where a few boxes laid on top.

“Connie..you didn’t.” You felt tears brimming your eyes, looking up at him. He held your duffle bag, urging you to go inside. When you get inside, he closes the door behind you (and makes sure to hang the ‘Ne Pas Déranger!’ sign on the door handle).

You waited until he stood in front of you to open the biggest box (as he instructed). Inside was an assortment of toys and a set of handcuffs and a blindfold. You looked up at him with a ‘really?’ look. He simply shrugged.

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I use toys on you. Open the last one now, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but picked up the box. You unwrapped it and looked at the small, black box. Hesitantly, you open it. Inside was the most beautiful ring you’d seen. When you went to look up at Connie, he’d already been kneeling in front of you. Your face scrunched up, trying your hardest not to cry as he holds one of your hands in both of his. He inhales, swallowing tears of his own.

“Do you remember the day we met, baby? You were working at that coffee shop on campus.”

You giggled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, and you asked me some stupid ass question about-”

“How many grams of protein was in the bagel and the cream cheese you’d just given me.” He interrupted, laughing with you. “You gotta give me credit, baby, it was the only way I could think to talk to you. You were way outta my league.”

You scoffed. “Nah, you were out of my league. But you still got my number though..after waiting like two months.”

“Yeah, you’re a stubborn one.” He looked away from you for a second to collect himself. “But that’s what I love about you.”

“You know what you want, and you make it known that you’ll do whatever to get it. When you said we could be friends, you have no idea how excited I was. I made sure to text you every morning, between classes, and before bed. I knew you were busy, but I wanted you to know I was gonna be there for you always. When I broke up with my last girl, you were there for me. When your ex cheated on you I was there for you. Even though you stayed longer than I’d like, I still showed my support for you.”

“Through all that, I saw how much trust you put in me and how much you let me into your heart. Two years after we met I asked you to be my girlfriend. Of course you said no, because you’re so damn stubborn.”

“Connie you asked me to be your girlfriend in the Wendy’s drive thru, of course I was gonna say no.”

He held his heart as if he were hurt by your comment. “It wasn't even about allat. I loved you and I knew if I didn't at least try I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

“But I eventually said yes, didn’t I?”

He nodded, kissing the back of your hand. “Si, you did. And now I’m asking you to be my wife.”

“In a hotel.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oui, but a hotel in France.”

“I’m joking, Con. I’ll marry you. Doesn’t matter where, when, or how. I love you.”

“And I love you, cariño.”

You handed him the box and watched as he slipped the ring on your finger. He stood to his feet, embracing you tightly. When he pulled away, he wiped the tears from your cheeks, sighing at your complaints of him ‘ruining your makeup’.

“You think it’s ruined now? Just wait until I get you naked on this bed, mami.”

You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You can’t not make a sex joke, can you? It hasn’t been 2 minutes since you proposed and you’ve already got sex on your mind.”

“It’s what I’m good at. Besides making you scream..”

“Connie..” You walked away from him, walking into the bathroom to touch up your makeup. He followed, letting his hands grab at your waist.

“Baby, can you grab that box out of my suitcase?”

“What b-oooh that box.”

He smirked at you through the mirror, leaving a kiss on your neck before walking away to rummage through your luggage. Through your peripheral vision, you could see Connie tossing article after article of clothing out of your suitcase and behind him onto the floor. You rolled your eyes, poking your head out of the door to scold him, but it was almost as if he felt you staring daggers into the back of his head as he muttered a quick ‘désolée’ before finding the box. He stood to his feet, walking back to you with a smile on his face. You give him a sarcastic smile back, pushing him out of the bathroom before shutting the door and locking it.

No longer than 10 seconds and he was already complaining on the other side of the door.

“Mamiiiiii, do you really have to have the door closed and locked? Tu es si dramatique”

“I’m not dramatic, Con, you just can't control yourself.”

You rolled your eyes as he sighed dramatically on the other side of the door. You slipped into the lingerie set, not quite being able to reach behind to tie the string. Grabbing two towels, you wrap one around the top half of your body and one around the bottom, leaving only your back exposed. Unlocking the door, you open it to find Connie leaning against the doorframe. Sighing, you turn back around, facing away from him.

“I need you to tie the string.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “Why all the towels?”

“You can’t control yourself.”

He scoffed, taking both pieces of string in his hand to pull them and tie them tightly and properly. Turning you back around, he looked in your eyes, then down to your stomach, then back up to your eyes. You watched as he basically eye fucked you before closing the door again. Sitting on the lid of the toilet, you slip your feet into the clear heels he’d also gifted you, tightening the strap on both. Slowly, you stood up, walking over to the mirror to fluff your hair a little and adjust your breasts. Finally, you slipped on the robe, tying it around your waist.

Flipping the switch, the bathroom quickly lost light. You took a deep breath, feeling your anxiety bubble up in your chest.

“‘Kay, I’m coming out. Close your eyes, Connie.”

He giggles, covering his eyes with both palms. “They’re closed, baby. Amène ton cul sexy ici, bébé.”

You twisted the knob on the door, slowly opening it. You walk over to Connie, your heels announcing your every step as they knock on the floor. Connie knows when you’ve stopped walking. Not just because your heels stopped hitting against the floor, but he could smell you. Keeping his eyes closed, he removed both hands from his eyes, pulling you closer between his open legs. He smooths his cold hands over your body, groaning softly as he tugs at the silk fabric. You shudder at that, trying your hardest not to moan.

“You can open 'em now, Con.”

Quickly, his eyes shot open, taking in everything he saw before him. The sight of your hair pinned back, just to keep the strands from in your face, the way your tits sat up beautifully through the see-through silk robe you had on, your painted toes peeking through your heels. Everything made Connie insanely hard. He knew he should take his time, but it was hard seeing you so…nude, but not even nude. He brought his hands up to your waist, toying with the ribbon. Your silent whines let him know all he needed to. Slowly and calculated, he unties the ribbon, letting it fall. The robe opened up just enough for him to see your belly piercing in front of his face. Placing a soft kiss on your belly, he pulled the robe open, exposing the rest of your front. He could finally see those thighs on full display, wanting nothing more than to mark them up and make you cry.

“Take it off, mami. Go ahead, don’t be shy. You was talkin’ all that shit yesterday, what happened?”

“Shut up, Connie.” You slipped your arms out of the robe, letting it drop to the floor behind you. Connie looked you up and down again, licking his lips seductively before turning you around. Roughly, he placed both palms on your hips, squeezing them enough to have you groaning. The sounds that left your mouth made him twitch in his pants. As much as he wanted to tease you, he was tired of waiting to have you. It was so much easier when you weren’t standing in front of him.

Quickly, Connie stood up from the bed, cupping your face in his hands. The way he towered over you made you feel so small…so submissive. Softly, he moved his hands from your face to your shoulders, softly pushing down on them. You quickly received the hint and got onto your knees, placing your hands on top of them. You watched intently and quietly as he slowly unbuckled his belt, removing it completely and tossing it on the bed behind you. When you reached up to unbutton his pants, he softly slapped your hands away.

“Almost forgot. Go ahead and grab those cuffs in that bag next to you.”

You reached into the bag, grabbing the matte black handcuffs and handing them over. Once you set them in his hand, Connie moved behind you, cuffing both of your wrists behind your back. Once he had you confirm the cuffs were tight, he moved back in front of you. He held a slight smirk, placing his hand on your head while he looked down on you. He lightly tapped the side of your face with his other hand, sighing heavily.

“You know what your safeword is, right?”

You nod. “It’s __.”

“And what’s my name for tonight? What are you gonna call me when I’m digging in it?”

“Daddy.”

“Or…?”

You bite your lip in concentration, fingers fidgeting behind your back while he looked at you impatiently. His intense look made your eyes twinkle with realization.

“Papi…or sir, but you don’t really like sir like that Con, do you?” You ramble. He chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“And in the event that you’ve got my dick or sum in your mouth, what do you do when you wanna stop?”

“Three taps, pinches, or slaps on whatever I can reach."

He didn’t respond, just nodded. Finally, he kisses your forehead, unbuttoning his pants. He keeps them at his waist, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna beat that pussy up, baby. Gonna make you cum until you cry.”

#[☆]-the naughty room #connie springer #connie x you #connie springer x reader #connie springer smut #aot x reader #aot smut

108 notes · View notes

non-stop-imagines · 11 months

Text

Part Two: Everyone Knows

One Part Two Three Four

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Freelance Journalist Black Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k (w/ some social media au)

Warnings: My own terrible example of Twitter environment, everybody basically feeling physical pain watching Mick and Y/n, hopefully thinking for the rest of the season

A/N: Part 2! We've got a part 2! This was so fun to write, you guys have no idea. The social media stuff took quite a bit of brain power (now have even more respect to writers that do smau a lot) but I think I got it, kinda. Be kind to me there, okay, it's my first time doing something like that. But I'm proud of the job I've done with this and I hope you all like it too!! Love you all!!💖💛💖💛

Tagged: @thisismeracing @omgsuperstarg

Masterlist

Silverstone

Mick let out a sigh of relief as he saw you strolling toward him, a bounce in your step that causes your hair, which was down today, to sway with your movements. The smile and little wave that you gave him once you spotted him made his chest tighten and the act of breathing more difficult. He waved back, then lowered his hand slightly when you were stopped by the same woman who you were thanking last night while coming out of the press room. She hands you what looks like a pass and then a business card before briskly walking to the next place she needs to be. You finally reach Mick and give him an exaggerated wide smile.

“You’re not wearing your glasses.” He now had an unobstructed view of your alluring brown eyes as they looked at him innocently.

“Yeah, when I know I have more writing and note taking to do, it's just nicer to be wearing my glasses.” You stopped your words and rolled your eyes at your own bluff before looking back to Mick, who sported adorably scrunched eyebrows. “And...I also actually gave myself time to get ready this morning so I was able to put in my contacts. This was also partially because I realized, like, half way back to my hotel that I had no idea what time we were meeting and that I wasn’t able to ask you because I didn’t have your number.” Your hand movements got more vigorous as your explanation went on, which was highly amusing to Mick who wished you would keep talking just so he could keep watching you. “So, that was my night and morning. Plus getting my article done and sent to the website I am writing for this weekend.”

“Wow, busy night…and morning.” Mick got lost for a moment, tracing the ends of the silk wrap that you had tied like a headband and how it draped with your locs that reach midway past your shoulder blades. He shook himself back to the present. “Uh, here’s your pass.”

“Oh, thank you. I also got one to get into media pit after the practice sessions, qualifying and the race, I think, from Julie...the girl I was just talking to. She was so sweet and let me stay in the press room to get all of my notes and stuff together after everything was done and she gave this to me just because I helped her straighten the room up.” Watching you gush about this encounter makes Mick’s heart warm, glad that his new friend has had a positive experience at her first race so far. That’s right. You're his new friend. That’s why his pulse starts to race at even the thought of you. Why looking into your eyes is just as good as getting a hug. Why he can’t help but smile when you smile, and wants to be the reason for it. This is what happens when you make a new friend, right?

“That’s awesome! I’m glad your day started on the right foot.” Mick’s smile was bright and genuine. “Um, let’s exchange numbers real quick so you won’t have to worry about when to get ready next time.” Next time. Something in you reacts at the thought of being able to spend another race weekend with Mick looking after you. He has been very friendly over the past day. You hope that there will be a next time, because you want nothing more than to be closer friends with Mick. To be able to spend more time with him.

After exchanging phones to input phone numbers, you and Mick enter the Mercedes motorhome, saying hello to people who pass and being introduced to anyone that stays long enough to talk. That’s all that Mick wanted to do. Introduce you to anybody and everybody you two come across, but this feeling conflicts with a flint of selfishness from wanting to keep you to himself and stay in the intimate cocoon you guys were the previous night. Still, he introduces you and eventually things calm down for a while and you guys get some time to talk. It was just comfy small talk sprinkled with important details about yourselves. After the 45 minute lull in Friday festivities you knew more about Mick’s sister and her competitive horse riding and what he does when he goes home to Switzerland, and he knew about your recent move to LA and a bit about your journey to becoming a freelance journalist. There were also an ungodly number of dog pictures shown between the two of you. The commotion picked up a bit suddenly which caused you both to automatically look towards the door to see Lewis enter. Through the automatic glass door you can see George and Carmen, exchanging a few more words before giving each other a kiss goodbye and going their separate ways. George inside the motorhome and Carmen off to some other area of the paddock, waving in through the window before leaving.

You and Mick stand from your seats to head over to the two Mercedes drivers, but you trailed behind Mick, nervous to be so up close and personal. You listen and them exchange brief hellos and bro hugs, and give a polite grin when Lewis looks towards you, his face instantly letting you know that he recognized you. “I remember you from yesterday, uh, gosh I’m sorry I don’t think I remember your name.” From the face Lewis had, you could tell that he was racking his brain to remember, but you just reach out your hand to introduce yourself.

“Y/n Y/l/n. It’s nice to see you again.” As you were introducing yourself, Mick guided you just in front of him, standing slightly off to his left but close enough to feel his body heat radiating, warming your legs which were exposed since you were wearing shorts. You could feel his eyes on you as you shook Lewis' and George’s hands.

“Yes, that’s it. Geez, I’m sorry. The question you asked yesterday was good though.” A large smile popped on your face at the compliment. You adjusted the cream colored tote bag on your shoulder to occupy your hands that wanted to find Mick’s that you knew were somewhere close.

“Woah, your shoes! Those are quite cool!” George’s comment sends everyone's attention, including your own, to the custom Air Force 1’s you wore that had a sunflower design on the toebox and along the swoosh. Your most recent splurge, sans the British Grand Prix trip.

“Your entire fit is rocking actually! Yesterday’s too.” As you partially shy away from the compliments that were being thrown your way, Mick takes the moment to get a good look at you. He saw how you had your hair when you got to the paddock this morning, but his focus on your face kept his eyes away from the black cropped halter top you wore underneath a cream colored linen button up that remained unbuttoned and your jean cutoffs that worked wonders for your legs. You swapped the larger hoop earrings you wore yesterday for smaller ones, still gold to match the layered necklaces you wore. You shift your tote bag further up your shoulder.

“Yeah, you look amazing today.” Even though all three Mercedes drivers were complimenting you simultaneously, your attention immediately went to Mick upon the sound of his voice.

“Thank you.” You voice was soft and accidentally went up an octave, but neither of you noticed as sappy grins grew on both of your faces. With you two in your own realm for the moment, Lewis and George were both left to watch the longing between you two then, after looking at each other with the same knowing look, Lewis cleared his throat to bring you guys back to Earth.

“You gonna be in the garage all weekend, Y/n?” You couldn’t help but smile with Lewis’ gapped smile, but look towards Mick briefly, telepathically asking if what he gave you was a multiday pass.

“Oh, yeah. The pass is for the rest of the weekend.” Mick stuffs his hands in his pockets, which seems to be the only thing he can ever think of to stop himself from wanting to touch you.

“I guess I am.” You laugh, shrugging then grabbing onto your bag handle with both hands.

“Alright! I guess I’ll see you later then.” Lewis shakes your hand and turns to go further back into the motorhome, waiting for George.

“It was very nice to meet you Y/n.” George

Once they were out of earshot, George lightly elbowed Lewis to get his attention. “You saw what I saw, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Was all Lewis could muster. He knew that this was going to be excruciating to watch.

ynthewriter

Liked by mickschumacher and 2,673 others

ynthewriter An exciting race and new friends are what the British grand prix is about 🏁

Also my article for @motorsportcom is up now!!! "Should Red Bull be Worried about Mercedes' Hastened Improvement?"

view 124 comments

chels2001 Came for the black F1 fan representation, stayed for Mick being your "new friend"

schumimick Us Merc fans gotta stay delusional together

mickschumacher It was lovely meeting you yn! Hope we can hang out again soon! 😊

↳ mercfanf1 ARIANA! WHAT R U DOIN HERE!? HAHA

↳ ynthewriter Thank you for the navigational help! And I've already started to plan our next hang out 🖊️📒

tanirose98 I was so glad to see @kymillman add a black girl to his Women of the Paddock post!!! Her fit was so cute 🥺

Spa

You leaned your head onto Mick’s shoulder while laughing at the joke bouncing between the two of you, Esteban watching the interaction from across the table. Esteban took a bite of his food before interjecting sarcastically. “No, no. That’s fine. Laugh at my misfortune.”

“How can we not laugh at a video of your kart just drifting out of frame…” You couldn’t finish your explanation as you began hysterically laughing, Mick and Esteban joining into the angelic, contagious sound. Mick saw tears starting to fall from your eyes due to your laughter and swiftly grabbed a napkin for you, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Esteban.

“It was wet! They're lucky that I didn’t take everybody behind me out too.” You chuckle at his hilariously disgruntled rebuttal and take a drink from the wine glass in front you.

“That’s true. But to be fair, that would have made it ten times funnier.” Mick jokes with his friend then reaches around the back of your chair, moving one of your locs off of your shoulder before ultimately resting his hand on the chair. You all take the well needed lull in the moment to eat some more of the food in front of you guys, look around at the quaint Belgian restaurant you guys decided to have dinner at Wednesday night before the race weekend began.

“That motorsport article was good. A lot of good insight on how not just Mercedes, but most of the grid is starting to catch up to Red Bull.” You smile at the acclaim given to you by Esteban, briefly turning your head toward Mick when you feel his hand rubbing your shoulder for a moment.

“Thank you. So many comments are saying that I’m delusional, but they’ll see. Motorsport obviously published it for a reason.” You start to dab at your eye when it starts to feel like something was in it and excuse yourself to the bathroom after politely turning down Mick’s offer to look for the offending object himself, leaving just Esteban and Mick at the table.

“She’s nice. But, I feel like I’m sensing something between you two.” Esteban flicks a finger from Mick to the direction that you went.

“We’re just friends.” Mick flashes an innocent, unknowing smile. “She’s nice to have around and talk to, and I hope she thinks the same about me.”

Esteban’s eyes widened in shock at the genuine comment from his friend, surprised at the naivety. “Okay.” He gives an exaggerated nod, deciding not to say anything else as a means to keep his own sanity, grinning at you when you return and sit back down, Mick’s attention completely on you.

Monza

“You what!?” You walk out of the bathroom of your hotel room, face still lathered with face wash as you stare at Mick sitting on your bed.

“I’m racing this weekend.” You gave him no reaction at first, going back to rinse your face off, put your glasses on and stand in front of him, staring at him, analyzing his facial features. His eyes that you have recently noticed look at you with a certain sense of longing, smile lines next to the mouth grinning up at you, hair flopped back due to his head positioning and messy due to his participation in the second practice session that day. You get back to the matter at hand.

“One more time. In my good ear, please.” You exaggeratedly flip your locs away from your ear leaning closer to Mick, making him chuckle. Your close proximity allows him to get a whiff of your sweet smelling hair.

“I’m racing this weekend. George is pretty sick and so they decided that it would be best for me to drive tomorrow. And since I would be driving in qualifying, they decided I should just drive through the rest of the weekend.”

“Wow. I mean, I’m sorry to hear about George, I’ll need to text him.” You sidebar, looking around from your stationary position for your phone, quickly giving up. “But that’s awesome! What!” You instinctively wrap your arms around Mick’s neck in a hug, having to bend down for a moment as he was still seated on the bed in front of you, but he gently stands up, slowly changing the angle of the hug.

“I know. I feel like I should be nervous, but I’m really just excited, you know?” The way he looked at you displayed the pure joy that he was feeling, and you couldn’t help but share that joy, wanting to make sure he keeps this joy. About 30 seconds into the quiet moment of you two, you realize simultaneously you were still embraced, your arms draped over Mick’s shoulders and Mick’s arms wrapped around your waist. You guys break apart, pausing for a beat before Mick continues. “I, uh, also was wondering if you wanted to head to the circuit with me tomorrow?”

You were about to agree, but then Mick’s unsure smile to the request reminded you that he has been riding his motorcycle to the track the past two days, hence the reason you haven’t arrived with him. “On that death machine? No.” You shake your head, your locs shaking side to side.

“Please? I would think if I were to have a good luck charm, it would show up with me.” His smile was now more convincing, boyish, like he’s trying to convince you to give him some ice cream.

“Good luck charm, huh?” You try to keep a straight, skeptical face as Mick comically nods his head. On the inside, though, you were mush at the thought of Mick saying you were his good luck charm. You sigh. “I guess flattery gets you some places, Schumacher. Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, really. I promise I’ll be careful, but you’ll be surprised at how fun it is.” He brings you into a hug as he speaks, cradling your head briefly before pulling away. “And if tomorrow comes and you really don’t want to get on the bike, that is okay.” You guys exchange mundane comments and goodbyes before Mick leaves your room to head back to his own, leaving you with a feeling in your heart that you shake off before finishing your night routine.

__Friday, Autodromo Nazionale di Monza___

Mick stops his bike near the paddock with you still clutching his waist, before your ears registers the lack of sound from the bike. Though the ride itself was adrenaline riddled, you were comforted by Mick’s scent surrounding you, not only from hugging him close as he steered, but also from having to wear his backpack during the ride. You climb off and remove your helmet, regaining your composure as you wait for Mick to remove his helmet to hand him his bag and rearrange your tote on your shoulder that hand to be sandwiched between you two. You guys then begin to head toward the paddock entrance, stopping to say hello to fans standing nearby, then entering, which happened to be at the same time as Toto and Susie Wolff. They’re attention was initially on someone explaining a piece of business that you didn’t pay attention to, but then Toto called Mick over, leaving you and Susie to greet each other.

“You must be Y/n. I have heard a lot about you.” You shake the hand of the lady in front of you, starstruck.

“Mrs. Wolff, it’s so nice to meet you. I hope it’s all good things you’ve heard.” You give her a spritely smile, and though she returns the gesture, your nerves still get to you.

“Trust me dear, it’s all been great. And call me Susie, please.” You see that her attention moved to just behind you which prompts you to turn and look, seeing Julie hesitantly approach as to not rudely interrupt the conversation.

“Hi, sorry. I just wanted to give you these. Just a little thank you for helping me out with set up and clean up and honestly with basically everything else.” She hands you two 4-day press passes that you smile at, confused. “For Vegas and Abu Dhabi.” You go to thank her, but with a wink, she swiftly leaves to her next task.

“Oh, those are a hot commodity.” Susie’s voice inflection makes you feel even more special than Julie’s gesture as you wrap up straps around the passes and place them in your tote.

“I know. What she was talking about, you know helping her, it's just...it's easy to get bored hanging around the track all day so I usually find her and help with whatever she’s doing. I didn't expect this, just wanted to help. I’ll need to find her and thank her later. ” You look in the direction she sped off to then look back to Susie, eyes briefly crossing the path of Mick who also took that moment to look at you. You guys grin at each other, which causes onlooker Susie to smile in amusement.

“Your recent article about Ferrari’s unexpected win in Zandvoort, was good.” The accent laced in her flattery was like music.

“Thank you! I’m glad you liked it. You have no idea the number of comments there's been about me being impractical about the course of the season.” You tend to reach a certain level of passion when discussing your writing, rightfully so, and the familiar tone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Mick who turns his head slightly to see you, this time peaking Toto’s interest.

“It’s because you have the balls to challenge Red Bull’s dominance.” Her words briefly shock you, but once you realize who you were talking to, you both laugh at the comment that was undeniably true.

“And considering everything, I definitely need to find Julie to thank her because I only see both championships being decided in either Las Vegas or Abu Dhabi.” At this point, Toto and Mick had came and stood behind their respective lady, Toto wrapping his arm around Susie and Mick standing extremely close, messing with your hair a bit before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“You need to spread that optimism around the paddock.” Chuckles echo around the group at Toto’s comment.

“I’ll try, but I think I need to get past everyone thinking I’m crazy.” You giggle, making everyone smile. Mick shifts his stance and crosses his arms, not in a way that signifies annoyance, but more in an attempt to physically keep himself together as he stares at your hair, locs up in a high ponytail.

“Trust me, no one thinks that. You’re like a vigilante.” Toto’s oddly worded compliment makes you feel warm and fuzzy, and when he takes a peek at his watch you also check the time on your phone.

“Oh, I guess we better get going. I’m sure we all have somewhere to be.” You comment, everyone agreeing as scattered final remarks are said.

“It was very nice meeting you Y/n.” She pauses for a moment, eyes flashing at Mick and then back to you. “I’m gonna figure out a way for us to work together in the future, okay?”

At first you just look at her in shock, having to tell yourself to reach out and shake her handat first. “Okay, that would be amazing! Thank you! And it was great meeting you, too, Mrs- Susie. Susie." You correct yourself, then wave and say bye to Toto before heading further down the paddock with Mick, leaving the two Wolff’s to debrief on the undertones of the conversation.

“She’s a sweetheart. And a lion with a pen.” Susie comments, Toto’s arm now removed from her shoulders as she turns to fiddle with her husband’s appearance.

“Oh, very nice girl, strong minded. But besides that, you saw them, right? I know I don’t usually concern myself with this stuff, but-” They begin to walk toward the Mercedes motorhome, waving at people as they heard they’re names.

“Oh yeah. They’re in love.” She didn’t even look back at Toto when she spoke, sure of her observations as she stepped into the motorhome.

#black reader #f1 x black!reader #mick schumacher #mick Schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x black!reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smau

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secretwhumplair · 3 months

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Awakening

1,006 words | Mirai and the serpent king (sequel to Nightfall)

Content | Slavery, fear, nudity, non-con touch/kissing

Notes | Exciting developments! Mirai is introdused to his new living situation!

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator

»Good morning, Mirai.«

Mirai blinked his eyes open, and for a wonderful moment, he didn’t know where he was. He was comfortable and warm, and barely hurting or hungry. Someone had just softly called him by his actual name.

The first thing he saw, however, were smooth brown scales which started to shift as the serpent king leant over him and kissed his temple.

It took him several seconds after snapping back into his usual obedient, mercy-seeking mindset—with an aching sting through his chest from remembering something sweet and long-gone—before he remembered his new master wanted him to speak. »Good morning, Master.«

His voice was as wrecked as ever, and that fully grounded him back into reality.

»Have you slept well?« The serpent king’s fingers ran through his hair.

»Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.« It was true. He had been so exhausted that even surrounded by his terrifyingly overpowering and enigmatic master, he had slept deeply and dreamlessly.

And he was grateful for it.

»That’s good.« The serpent king cupped his cheek, kissed his forehead, and then got up out of the bed. »Get dressed. I will show you where you’ll live.«

Mirai was quick to obey, and while he closed the clasps of the excuse for clothing he had been given, the serpent king continued.

»There’s something important you need to know, Mirai. You will live with my other pretty things. You all are at liberty to interact with each other as each one involved pleases, but if someone hurts you in any way or makes you uncomfortable, you may tell me. If it cannot wait, you may tell the guards to tell me. I want all of you to be cared for and I will not tolerate bullying or petty games.«

Mirai looked up at him, a whole new world of worries suddenly opened up to him. »Th-thank you, Master.«

Once again, the serpent king must have sensed his fear. He smiled down at him. »Don’t worry, they’ll love you. But I want you to know you are not without recourse if anything happens.«

He led the way out of the room, and Mirai followed him, trying to shake his newfound anxieties.

»Further, if there is anything else you need or want, you may ask also. I may say no, but you will never be punished for inquiry.«

»Thank you, Master«, Mirai muttered, barely managing the words out loud. There was a lump in his throat. This all sounded so good.

There had to be a catch somewhere.

The serpent king brought him to a door flanked by two guards, who bowed their heads respectfully, but not without giving Mirai curious glances. One opened and let them in.

The room was large, the side opposite the door once more consisting of arched windows, framed with heavy curtains on either side. Multiple doors lined the other walls, some ajar, others closed. The room was furnished with several tables, couches both after the fashion of the legged folk Mirai was familiar with, and designed as oval-shaped platforms similar to the throne, as well as various seat cushions. Shelves held board games, books, and other knickknacks. Lamps hung on the walls between the doorframes, albeit currently extinguished.

More than the design of the room itself, though, what caught Mirai’s attention were its occupants.

They were all very beautiful. It was about a dozen, half serpentkind, ranging in colour and size from a slender, brown-patched woman to an olive-green man spotted in yellow and black and larger than the biggest guard Mirai had seen yet, half humans, from a woman as blue-black as night with long, neat locs to a fire-headed man as pale as birch bark. There was one slender-legged, shiny-coated bay centauress, and one other elf, bronze-skinned and curly-haired. His bright eyes found Mirai immediately, and Mirai could feel nothing but shame worse than the others put into him, even knowing they were in the same position.

Well, they weren’t, truly. This stranger, most likely, could sing.

All were dressed in attire somewhat similar to his, terribly exposed, but each different from one another, clearly designed to suit the person it adorned.

And all turned towards the opening door, looking curiously at the serpent king or the new slave he had brought.

Mirai felt awfully exposed; for a moment he had the childish impulse to hide behind his master. But that was as ridiculous as it was stupid. These people were likely much less of a threat to him. He had lived in households with several slaves before; even if they couldn’t do anything to help one another—sometimes banned from even touching, all touch belonging to their masters—it had been a bittersweet comfort not to be alone in his misery.

Yet, that all meant he was even more worried about making a bad impression.

The serpent king did loop around Mirai once more. »This is Mirai, sweets. Rizi, will you show him around?«

A tawny-skinned human with soft black waves on their head nodded. »Of course, Master.« The fiery-coloured silk bands of their decor, Mirai noticed, framed a pair of fine scars crossing their chest; delicate enough to have been masterfully made without resistance, but not wholly removed by magic, the way the dog bites on Mirai’s skin had been. They smiled at Mirai, and Mirai felt a spark of comfort.

The serpent king moved away from around Mirai, then paused. »One more thing. You will have Hishissa lessons every day. This is your home now; I want you to learn the language. Do you know how to read and write?«

»Only… only Nirezali, Master.« He had not, when he was receiving what little education he got, expected to leave the country he had been born in. No one in his family had. How and why would they?

»Then you will have lessons in that also. Make yourself at home,« he added, smiling at him one last time. »Have a good day, sweets.«

And with that, he left him to the others.

#whump #whump writing #my writing #slavery whump #mirai and the serpent king #mirai #eshihir

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blueberrypancakesworld · 5 months

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Can you write where Euronymous and fem!reader meet at his concert and they have a few beers and one thing leads to another she's at his house. (can be smutty)

Concert of dark love

Euronymous x fem!reader

warning : alcohol, implied smoking, flirting, smutish

Info : Thanks for the request anon and I'm so sorry that it's been like month but I haven't had the time. So here you go and have fun reading :)

Loc - masterlist

Rory's character - masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How had it come to this? How had it come about that after a normal concert visit she now found herself in the run-down house of Mayhem's band founder.

His cool hand on hers, he mumbled something about his friend, band member and singer being outside in a cemetery.

He placed his hand on her hip and her thoughts were interrupted by his lips as the alcohol she tasted mingled with the flavor of smoke.

Her pleas went under as he took it from her. ,,I knew you were perfect," he murmured, breaking the kiss for a moment, his makeup slightly smudged by the kiss and giving him a consumed smile. But the sinful connection to his outer self didn't seem to bother him or her.

And in that small moment of calm, she suddenly remembered how she had ended up here in the older man's arms. He pulled her upstairs with him, she knew they were going to his room.

She felt his gaze on her. The kiss was only the beginning, the tingling on her body where he had touched her grew stronger. When he opened the door and this time she engaged him in a kiss.

She casually heard the rustling of clothes as they tried to undress, the alcohol, the lust and the feeling of arousal between them making it all seem more intense.

She knew that he wanted her, that she wanted him. That they had both wanted each other since they had seen each other at the concert.

As the band's music almost burst the audience's drumbeats, the lights flickered and the hall was bathed in blood red. She stood in the middle of hundreds of spectators, enjoying the music, feeling it in her body and wanting more.

She had almost finished the beer in her hand and slowly felt the tingling sensation of her screaming voice drowning in those of the hundreds of others. But the look at the stage let her know that he had seen her.

Saw the broad smile on the older man's lips, saw the leather and the rivets shining in the light, saw that he had noticed her and saw that he was watching her. Watched them move, move to the music and he more than just noticed them. He wanted them.

And when the concert was over and the crowd slowly dispersed, she saw how the band withdrew for the time being...or so it seemed. When she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice, her first reflex was to pull the bottle over the stranger.

But when she saw who it was, she paused in her movement. ,,Careful, sweetie, I didn't think you were into discipline," he said, smiling when he saw her surprise and then her slight shyness as she lowered the bottle.,,Sorry...you were fantastic, truly from hell," she said with a wink as she saw him smirk and let his eyes wander over her without hiding it.

He looked up from her legs surrounded by the tight leather pants, her hips where the belt hung, the visible skin through the dark thin top. ,,Have you thrown away your bra yet?" he asked, handing her another beer and she accepted it and took a sip. He knew he was watching as she wiped away her shoe, the small rivulets running down the corner of her mouth and chin.

She licked her lips, tasting the slightly bitter make-up with the beer, but none of that seemed to matter when their eyes met.

,,Just for us," she said, leaning forward slightly and giving him a good look at her neckline, watching his grin widen. ,,Us?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as his hand moved to hers. His coldness met her warmth.

She smirked and looked down at his hand, ,,Maybe just for you," she said and saw his knowing look as he drained his beer in one go and leaned towards her, his lips brushing her cheeks before he said, ,,How about an exclusive tour of my room?" a question she answered with a kiss and went with him.

And all at once she knew again how she had ended up here naked from her clothes having him over her watching her fingers play with his dark strands of hair as he kissed and bit her body. Oh yes it was a concert of perfect dark love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @icarus-star

#lords of chaos 2018 #rory culkin #loc euronymous x reader #loc 2018 #euronymous x reader

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meenawrites · 1 year

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Trudy Lives AU: Spider's Hair

We all know hair is super important to the Na'vi in general, but I think it's doubly important to Spider because his hair represents his connection and wanting to belong to the Omaticaya.

Obviously with Trudy being Spider's mom, he doesn't have as strong abandonment and self-esteem issues as he does in canon. I think he would still have some because obviously kids feel a lot and notice a lot even if adults don't specifically say anything. Plus he just loves Na'vi culture so he would still want to belong.

Trudy notices this desire from him early on as a kid when he freaks out whenever someone tries to give him a haircut and how he holes up and cries afterwards on the rare times someone succeeded. She hadn't understood the first few times until he saw him stare at Lo'ak's braids and queue when the kids came to the lab to visit him and Grace and touched the short ends of his own hair with something like shame.

From then on, she stopped letting anyone give the kid a haircut. If he wanted his hair long like the Na'vi, he could have it long, what right did they have to stop him. He's already having a tough time as it is being a human born on this planet, a person torn between both races and cultures, an orphan of such a bloody conflict. So she just lets him be; what's most important to her is his happiness after all.

I'd imaging in the short time he's with the McCoskers in this AU, they tried to humanize him a bit, which is another part of Trudy chewing them out and taking him in herself because they can clearly see how miserable it makes the kid and still insist on it as if short or long hair is such a big deal or end-all, be-all.

Obviously his curly hair starts getting tangled and unruly and tangled though and Trudy doesn't have much experience dealing with his hair type. So she scrounges up some old youtube videos maybe or talks to one of the remaining scientists who DOES have curly hair for tips and tricks. If there is a scientist left with curly hair (which I'm just gonna say yes there is), I'd imagine she has figured out what natural plants she can use to take care of her hair in the years she's been there, so she helps Trudy out with that. So Trudy takes care of his curls for him, but also finds herself trying out different hairstyles on him.

Like I mentioned in a previous AU post, Trudy learns to braid for him so he can feel included in Omaticaya culture (and it also frankly helps her deal with his curly hair). But none of this matted loc nonsense for Spider this time around, not while she's alive and in charge of his cleanliness and hair. When his hair isn't in a protective hairstyle, she tries out a lot of different styles on him, and it ends up being something she really enjoys doing. It's good mother-son bonding time for the two of them as well because he'll like sit between her knees on the floor and talk to her about his day or something in a very relaxed setting while she works on his hair and he loves her motherly touch on his scalp (because again he still has touch starvation issues). She does a lot of hairstyles on him that like Earth people might consider girly but he loves them and thinks he's an icon. She does stuff like french braids, dutch braids, waterfall braids, fishtail braids when she dries his hair straight. She's definitely given him a braid crown before, and Tuk went gaga over it and begged Trudy to do one to her too.

She basically switches between protective hairstyles, full on big braids to keep his hair out of his face, and letting his hair go curly. Because his hair is so well taken care of now, I'd imagine that Omaticaya kids an adults see his golden braids and curls and like kind of break the ice there is between him and them and approach him to touch his hair or ask about his braids.

Also, Spider 100% learns to braid and insists on braiding Trudy's hair every once in a while because he insists she has nice hair and it's a waste for it to just be put up in a ponytail all the time. So he gets really good with hair, and starts braiding some of the Omaticaya's hair when they ask like on special occasions if they want waterfall braids or a braid crown; it gives him a role in the village that he didn't really have before and he loves it. Not all the animosity held towards him goes away with this obviously, but no one can deny that the boy is talented. I'd like to say even Mo'at gives his skills a go one time when she notices him staring at her hair repeatedly for a week preceding some sort of big Na'vi celebration and relents to him.

Anyway, yeah hehe, I just want to talk about little things like this that improve in Spider's life under Trudy's care.

#Trudy lives AU #Trudy is Spider's mom #Trudy stan #Trudy is my wife #Trudy for best mom #Spider Socorro #he deserves parents #Spider deserves love #Spider Avatar #Avatar 2 #Avatar the way of water #Kiri #Tuk #Tuktirey #Mo'at #Lo'ak #Neytiri #Omaticaya

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mariatesstruther · 3 months

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Okay but what about hairDresser!maria?

Sarah is growing up and starts to get more vain with herself, and tommy notices she's having a hard time with her hair. So after he picks up the girls from school for joel, tommy leads all of them to the salon and that's where they meet maria. Man just imagine maria giving sarah all the tips for her hair and trying different hair styles🥺Maria focusing on braiding sarah's hair and trying to ignore all of tommy's flirt attempts lmao. And cute little ellie asking for braids too awwwwwwwww

we LOVE hairstylist maria over here!!!! i could’ve sworn i made a hairdresser au already where tommy takes sarah to salons and maria teaches her to do her hair but i cant find it 😭😭😭

i do imagine that as sarah grows up past like 4-5 and realizes her hair is different from most people around her, she’d be less vain and more self-conscious (i really doubt you meant vain in that way so don’t worry about it, im just sensitive to language regarding black little girls and their hair). austin texas in the 1990s-2000s was only about 10% percent which isnt bad, but i know from growing up in a predominantly white area that it heavily impacted how i saw myself and my hair.

i LOVE the idea that tommy and joel would put extra effort, as much as they could, into making sure sarah’s hair is loved and taken care of. i love the idea that maybe they start taking her to the salon as soon as she’s old enough, like 3-4, to sit in a chair long enough to get herself and her hair pampered

so here’s some actual plot: maybe sarah has a regular hair stylist that she’s gone to since she was literally 2, mama shirley (HEY MAMA SHIRLEY LETS BRING U INTO ANOTHER AU). unfortunately mama shirley is getting older, her hands not as agile and quick as they used to be, and she tells the miller boys that she’s planning to retire soon. they’re both pretty anxious about it because sarah like routine and sameness, and getting her hair done is already enough of a feat for her with all her sensory issues, which mama shirley always accommodates for. luckily, mama shirley assures them she’s found a brilliant replacement that’s she’s been training for months

when sarah meets maria, it’s like the little girl is meeting an in real life princess. maria has long, long, long locs that go all the way to the back of her knees, some streaked blue and purple and pink—all sarah’s favorites. maria has gentle hands and rounded nails that feel good when they scratch at sarah’s scalp in the washbowl, just like mama shirley’s. she has a whole punch of stim toys and fun charms on her locs, necklaces, and bracelets that she lets sarah reach up and play with while she works.

she talks to joel and tommy about their life with her and how she’s doing in school and how they take care of her hair at home, making gentle suggestions here and their based on her own experiences growing up as a black girl in a predominantly white area—fuckin’ omaha, nebraska. she lets joel and tommy step in and try whatever she’s doing with sarah’s hair. tommy, bless him, is so nervous and into her that his hands are way clumsier than usual. luckily, his poor attempts just make her laugh and place her hands next his to show him how to smooth out sarah’s hair correctly, without flicking the product all over himself and his shirt

she remains sarah’s hairstylist for years, and tommy falls in love with her slowly at first, considering he only really sees her once every four weeks. eventually he starts going in for his own hair, then offers to do free repairs for the salon—then, finally, maria pulls him into the back room one day and says “ya know, miller, you don’t have to work here to spend time with me. you can just ask me out.”

“i—i can?”

“you can. you’ve taken long enough.”

“i—uh. alright. sorry to keep you waitin’, ma’am. dinner? tonight?”

“dinner sounds good :)”

gonna tag my hair babies @boilingcowboy and @clickergossip bc i feel like they’d appreciate this idk and i feel like rose may be the only person to remember my other hairstylist au 😭

#and then they make out in the backroom and all the stylists in the front are like yeah we been knew #anon THANK U THIS WAS FUN #sarah would love love love love her salonists and they would alk be obsessed with her too #she comes in the weekend before her bday to get her bday hair done #and not only does maria refuse to let joel pay she gives them like 3 months worth of free products #and they have cupcakes and gifts for her #maria gets her a radio and some signed cds like brandy destinys child bc shes been to concerts #mama shirley visits and gives her silk bedsheets and pillow cases #sarah cries joel cries tommy cries maria does NOT lol #but she hugs them all #hairstylist au #i swear im gonna find the one i already made that was close to this #i have too many aus #mama shirley #tommy x maria #neurodivergent miller tag

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pantherastevens · 7 months

Text

His Sunshine in The Darkness: A Love Birthed From Blood

Bro, I'm not even going to hold y'all. Just writing this took a lot of me, I had to chuck this day by day. But finally, FINALLY, I present to you all Part 3 of His Sunshine in The Darkness.

Yandere!Miles42 still gives me extreme brainrot and I've been mentally jumping ahead to the part where Panthera finally finds out everything (that's part 4 and I haven't even started it yet. That part might be the shortest of them all and I'm still debating a Part 5). But I have to try to pace this out (not the greatest at it but I try).

Enough of my blabbering, on with the story!

Here are Parts 1 and 2 if you missed them.

Warnings: Blood, Death (Murder), Yandere tendancies (?), Suggestive themes (nothing crazy, I promise), Cursing

---------------------------------------

It all started on a chilly Friday in February. It was a week shy of Valentine's Day, and the school was abuzz about the upcoming holiday. Miles would roll his eyes about it as if he wasn't sporting a black eye due to a fight he got into yesterday over a cute purple and black panda plushie (he saw the stuffed animal first, damn it) to gift to Panthera on the holiday (amongst other things...)

The boy was minding his business in study hall, which was luckily the last class of the day, determined to finish his homework until his ears picked up a familiar name. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to find his two "homeboys" chatting.

"Aye, Andre, what do you think of that Panthera girl," Jamal asked. Andre, in return, raised a brow, noting the flustered look on his face.

"That weird, quiet girl from creative writing class? I mean, she aight, but she nothin' special," Andre said with a shrug. Miles felt his eye twitch at the clear dismissal of his girl. Jamal smacked his lips out of annoyance.

"You only sayin' that 'cause you prefer yo girls high maintenance 'nd shit," he scowled. Andre gave another shrug.

"So? Panthera's cute, but she ain't no bad bitch like Jasmine or Monique. Why you even asking about shorty anyway," Andre breezily asked. Miles could see the sheepish grin on Jamal's face and tighten the grip on his pencil.

"I'm thinking of asking baby girl to be my Valentine to be real..." Andre snorted.

"Be so fuckin' for real, bro. Weren't you talkin' to Beatrice just last week?" Jamal scoffed, shoving his friend.

"Nigga, shut the fuck up. I thought I was interested until I found out she was only talking to me to ask about Miles..." The Afro-Latino rolled his eyes. He knew who they were referring to and wouldn't touch the girl with a ten-foot pole. The girl thinks it's fun to collect niggas' hearts like Pokemon, and he's definitely not interested.

"So why Panthera? The girl is weird. Her hair looks like she's been without a retwist for two months, plus it makes her seem more like a nigga than a female. She barely interact with anyone outside of class. She speaks a weird language sometimes. She's named after a literal animal, for Christ's sake! Don't know what her parents were thinkin' when they named her. What about her seem to grab you by the balls, bruh?" Jamal, and Miles, gave Andre the evil eye.

"Mad disrespectful. I think her hair makes her unique. I know she takes care of it, or it wouldn't look as long and thick as it does. And her having locs doesn't make her look like a nigga. And I'm fine with quiet girls. That means she's not caught up in the rachet bullshit that goes on at school. She actually told me that it was the language of her grandfather from some African country. It's unique, which I think is pretty cool. And her name is pretty, don't be a dick. You might notice some really nice girls here if you stop letting these hoes come up in your face. I'm tryna find me a little boo, not someone to post flicks on the gram and then maybe lead into a one-night stand. Panthera could be the one for me." Miles was a smidge appreciative to hear Jamal come to Panthera's defense, but he still didn't like him.

He liked HIS girl. Miles can not let that slide.

"Tch, whatever you say. I can't help you with your lil crush, but I bet we know someone who can. Ayo, Miles!" Miles did his best to keep his face neutral as he turned to face his "friends."

"What's good," he said. Andre smirked, nodding to Jamal.

"Jamal here is thinking of asking Panthera to be his Valentine. You two are friends, right? Maybe you could help a brother out."

"Joder no." Jamal and Andre blinked at the Afro-Latino.

"Uhhh, come again," Jamal asked. Miles shrugged.

"I said I don't know," he lied. Jamal's eyes pleaded with the boy.

"C'mon bro, is there anything you know she may like? I kinda wanna impress her..." Tawny brown eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Miles knows a lot of things that Panthera likes.

Her favorite chocolate and ice cream were cookies and cream. Her top five favorite movies were "Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron," "Princess and the Frog," "Finding Forrester," "Dragon Ball Z: Cooler's Revenge" (and "The Return of Cooler"), and "Wall-E." Her favorite flowers were sunflowers, hibiscus, and roses. While she wasn't crazy about fashion, she loved some nice or cool-looking jewelry (as long as she could afford it). She loves art, finding comfort in her sketchbook or with her canvases. One of her treasured items was her iPod, filled with various playlists for her moods. Her two favorite games were Temple Run and Fruit Ninja. She loves basketball and can play the sport (his uncle had a good ass laugh watching her wipe the floor with Miles). She likes boxing and even helps Miles with his workouts. Her favorite colors were black, gold, silver, purple, green, and red. She loves canines and wild cats but has a soft spot for pandas. She loves to watch the sunset or the sunrise to watch the sky explode into a series of colors. She likes stargazing and getting lost in the vast night sky.

Miles could write a book about her if he wanted to. But that information is for him and him alone.

"Maybe Miles doesn't want to tell you because he likes her himself," Andre said with a shit-eating grin. Jamal blinked before narrowing his eyes at the Afro-Latino.

Jamal didn't have anything against Miles. He felt bad for what happened to his dad and even attended the funeral. When greeting him, Miles' eyes seem thousands of miles away from here. He heard his heartfelt speech about his dad and how he felt sympathy for him when he was nothing but a wreck of tears. Of course, that same day, he saw Panthera.

Now, it wasn't the first time he noticed her. But that day, it was impossible not to notice her. From her attire, her speech, the song she sang...

Jamal thought she was so beautiful.

He saw Miles sought for her comfort during the service and even where they laid the Police Captain to rest. Jamal thought it was sweet for her to be there for the grieving boy.

That's when Jamal's crush really started. He was excited to share at least two classes with her that year: creative writing and music.

And to be able to sit next to her in their creative writing class?

Jamal thought God was finally blessing him...

...only he could never get his mouth to work and talk to her.

They only had a handful of conversations, and they were in February. Besides, calling them "conversations" was Jamal being generous. Unless Jamal could wriggle in some small talk (which Panthera didn't seem to be a fan of), their conversation would be strictly on the assignment given by the teacher. The boy tried talking to other girls to get his mind off the beauty, but it never worked. None of the girls were really into him like that, and a good majority were only using him to learn about Miles, which pissed him off more than he liked to admit.

What did Miles Morales have that he didn't? Yeah, he didn't have an accent or that effortless mysterious, bad-boy vibe Miles started giving off this year, but it's not like he was anyone special.

The one person he wanted to like him was being hoarded by the guy almost every girl in their grade wanted.

He can't take this shit anymore.

"Ain't no way Panthera would like him like that," Jamal huffed. Miles glared at him.

"What is that supposed to mean," Miles asked quietly, tawny brown eyes meeting near black ones. Jamal scoffed, his jealousy bubbling to a boiling point.

"You've known Panthera for how long 'nd you mean to tell me y'all still not togetha? She probably just pities yo sorry ass. You were the awkward kid mid-freshman year who she just happened to notice. 'Oh woe is me; I lost my daddy to gang violence.' Big fuckin' whoop, my guy. Ain't no way someone like her would ever like crybaby bitch like-ACK!" Jamal's rant was cut off by a sudden hand wrapped tightly around his throat. Fearful dark eyes met menacing light ones.

"Like what, bro," Miles asked quietly. The two boys were nose-to-nose in a silent stare-down. Miles could feel Jamal's pulse fluttering under his fingertips like a frightened caged bird. It made the darker side of him purr in delight.

"I-I..." Jamal couldn't get his words out. Even if Miles' hand wasn't wrapped around his windpipe, the dark promise in his eyes would've still rendered him mute.

"Thought so. This is your only warning, Jackson: Don't let me catch your sorry ass talking to Panthera. You know nothing about our relationship and what she means to me," Miles mumbled, never taking his eyes off his prey. He moved his lips to Jamal's ear, whispering menacingly,

"Panthera's my girl. Always was and always will be. I'm not afraid of getting rid of anyone looking to come between me and her... and that's not just a threat. It's a fucking promise..." Miles shoved the boy away just as the bell rang, walking out of the still classroom without turning back. Still in shock over what happened, their classmates slowly filtered out of the room. Jamal gave a few ragged coughs, half-heartedly accepting Andre's help.

"Damn, he got you good," Andre mumbled as he held Jamal up. When he decided to be a little shit on purpose, he didn't expect Miles to lash the way he did. Miles wasn't going for a fight or anything, as if he knew the outcome.

Jamal shoved Andre back, irritated.

"Ion care what that nigga say, he thinks he big and bad and what he says goes. Nah, Imma try to see if I can ask Panthera out today just to show that fuck nigga he wrong," Jamal hissed, grabbing his bag. Andre stared after his friend with an eye roll, grabbing his stuff and jogging after him.

He wanted front-row seats to this, after all.

-----------------------

Panthera was shifting through her locker, grabbing the necessary materials for her homework, and placing the material she finished during her classes that day. The girl had her headphones on, humming along to a new song she discovered as she did this. Once she was sure she had everything, she shut her locker.

Only to jump at the sight of Jamal leaning on the locker next to hers. Panthera pulled her headphones off from her ears to rest around her neck.

"Hey, Jamal," Panthera greeted softly, her brows furrowed in confusion. Jamal willed his heart to calm down at the cute expression on his crush's face.

"Hey, beautiful," Jamal said with a flirty grin. He watched as Panthera's cute eyes grew a fraction wider.

"Bast, what happened to your neck?!" He let out a soft hiss when the light touch of Panthera's fingertips brushed against the rapidly forming bruises on his neck. He caught her hand with his, silently hoping his grin didn't transform into a grimace.

"Nothing you should worry your pretty little head about, but I appreciate the concern, sweetness. I got a question for you, though..." Panthera narrowed her eyes briefly, eyeing her hand in his, before meeting his gaze.

"...shoot," she said.

"You busy the night before Valentine's Day, princess? I would love to take you out on a date," Jamal said, feeling bold enough to kiss the palm of her hand.

Panthera blinked.

"You would love to do what now?" Jamal chuckled.

"I said-" Panthera shook her head.

"No, no... I heard you... I guess my real question is why. We barely speak outside of class."

'And that's on purpose...' she thought.

"I always admire you from afar. I'd figured now would be a good opportunity... so how 'bout it, baby girl?" Panthera sized up the boy for a few moments before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Jamal, but I'm gonna have to decline. I don't see you like that," Panthera sighed, freeing her hand. Just as the girl was ready to walk away, she felt a hand grab her shoulder.

"C'mon ma, just one date, I promise," Jamal pleaded. Panthera let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Bast, give me strength... if it keeps you from following me home. Fine," Panthera huffed. Jamal gave her a boyish smile, hugging the girl. Panthera let out a confused squeak at the sudden action and was released.

"I promise you won't regret it, Panthera. Meet me at the flower garden near the park at 7, alright?" Panthera gave a nod, watching as Jamal walked up to his homeboy. She shook her head, turning on her heel to walk to the school entrance, only to run face-first into Miles' chest. A steady hand found the girl's waist to hold her up.

"Easy there, gatita..." A soft flush colored Panthera's cheeks at the soft rumble of Miles' voice.

"H-Hey Mi," she said, looking up into his eyes. Miles nuzzled her hair.

"I've been waiting for you. What was taking you so long," he mumbled against her forehead. Panthera let out a tired chuckle.

"Looks like I got a date with Jamal next week." Panthera had her face buried in his chest, which prevented her from seeing the dark smile on Miles' face before it faded into a softer one.

"You don't sound too excited about that," he teased. Panthera looked up at him with a pout.

"I'm kinda not, but I'm not trying to be followed home until I say yes." Miles smirked, gently bumping his nose with hers.

"Hey, if anything happens, you could always hit me up. You know I'll do everything possible to bring that beautiful smile onto that sweet face." Panthera giggled, playfully shoving him.

"Mi! Stop flirting with me. My damn face hurts!" Miles chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he and Panthera walked out of the school building. Miles sent a quick text as they walked before asking his little kitten about her day.

Elsewhere at a corner store, Jamal's phone buzzed with a new message. It was from an unknown number with a single phrase.

Unknown: Bet.

"Ayo, c'mon bro. You found everything," Andre asked. Jamal mentally shook his head, turning to his bro.

"Y-Yeah. Let's go."

-----------------------

It was the eve of Valentine's Day. The days flew by much quicker than Jamal anticipated, but he felt ready for tonight.

It was 6:30 PM. Jamal sat on a marble bench in the middle of the flower garden. He was dressed in his freshly ironed white button-down shirt, the nicest jeans he owned, and his white Air Forces. He got a haircut yesterday, helping his newly twisted hair pop. A simple Cuban chain hung around his neck, and his nicest watch was on his wrist. He wore his favorite cologne for the finishing touch.

Beside him were a heart-shaped box of chocolates, a cute Valentine's stuffed bear, and a bouquet of purple and light pink roses.

'God, I hope she likes this. I really want her to like me... wait, what's that noise?' The sound of footsteps approaching caused his heart to quiver in excitement. A glance at his watch let the boy know it was 6:37. The young teen scrambled to his feet, holding the bouquet. Jamal could hear those footsteps getting closer, just about to round the corner to the space he was waiting.

He prepared his best smile to greet his date.

"Hey Panthera, you're ear-" The person standing in front of him wasn't Panthera.

Neon-purple lights lit up the garden surrounding them. The person wore a mechanical mask over their face, narrow white slits making up their eyes. Jamal noticed the spray-painted symbol on the person's chest and the sleek metal claw on their arm when the person's identity finally clicked in his mind.

"Y... You're the Prowler," Jamal whispered. A distorted, deep chuckle escaped the person's throat.

"You sound disappointed... expecting someone else," the Prowler asked rhetorically, approaching the frightened teen. Jamal tried to keep his distance as his mind raced.

Why was the Prowler here out of all places? Everyone knows about his reputation as a vigilante, though it was always wise to stay out of his way. Jamal picked a safe place when he planned this date; it didn't make sense for one of Brooklyn's notorious boogeymen to be here-

"Y-Yeah, actually... I-I have a date, so if you d-don't mind. S-she should be here soon..." The vigilante paused for a moment.

"Oh, I know..." Jamal's blood ran cold.

"Wha-ACK!" Before he could even ask what he meant by that, He felt the wind being knocked out of him. Jamal wasn't sure what was happening until searing hot pain shot through the boy's nervous system. Dark eyes looked down to find razor-sharp claws embedded in his abdomen. A firm, gloved hand gripped his jaw, focusing Jamal's teary and terrified gaze on the soulless white glare.

"W-Why," the boy whimpered, blood bubbling from his throat and spilling over his quivering lips. The Prowler didn't answer him, simply staring at Jamal.

Until the mask automatically pulled back. Jamal's lungs choked on his breath.

"M-Miles...?" The Afro-Latino smirked down at his "friend."

"I told you... Panthera's mine. I'm not afraid to take out those who try to take her away from me. Since you refused to listen..." Miles reactivated his mask, removing his claws from the gushing wound. He slowly trailed the bloody tips up the heaving chest before wrapping around the healing handprint he had left nearly a week ago.

"I'm just gonna have to make an example out of you. For anyone foolish enough to try come after what's mine." Jamal wanted to scream. Yell at the boy that he was crazy and that Panthera would never look at him the same way ever again if she found out. But before Jamal could utter a word, Miles swiftly broke his neck.

Those white digital eyes watched as the light faded from those dark eyes before dropping the body. Miles grabbed his phone to check the time.

6:43.

Good. He had plenty of time to leave so he could clean up before Panthera would call him. Luckily, one of the hideouts he and his uncle used wasn't too far away. The young vigilante darted into the night, leaving his victim to bleed out in the garden alone.

-----------------------

It was 7:02, and Panthera had finally arrived at the flower garden entrance. She would be the first to admit she wasn't crazy eager for this date.

Mainly because she didn't see Jamal like that. But also because she had to deal with the headache of trying to find a nice outfit for the first real date in her life. When she got home from school last week, she immediately went online to find something to wear, already knowing she wasn't gonna find a real outfit in her closet.

It took her ages to find something she liked, seeing how most of the outfits showed too much for her liking. Like she would have to be careful if she needed to pick up something too much.

But she found her ideal dress. She paired it with her silver angel wing necklace and matching earrings. She had delicate silver rings decorating her right hand. White gladiator sandals covered her feet to complete her look. For her hair, she opted for a half-up-half-down situation with a single loc in front to frame her face. She even went ahead to do a bit of makeup. Not much, since she wasn't looking to impress this boy. Just something light. Some brows, mascara, and some mauve-tinted lip oil.

She liked the look she created, only wished she didn't go through all this effort for a guy who she barely looked at twice.

'Welp, at least I look cute for my first, and probably last, date of my life...'

The girl shook her head at the fledging thought. Many people might deem her a "Negative Nancy," but she's calling it how she sees it. No dude at their school would look at her twice. She's heard the whispers and the jokes.

"Would you sleep with Gabriella with no condom on... or go on a date with Panthera?"

"I rather risk catching something than be seen with a girl who is mistaken as nigga outside her uniform any day of the week."

If the girl wasn't secure about who she was as a person, those comments might have hurt her. From Panthera's point of view, those who say ignorant shit like that don't deserve her, and seeing the many sides that make up Panthera Stevens.

Only one guy thus far has seen her for who she is and hasn't shied away from her. And that's her best friend and ever-growing crush, Miles.

When did those feelings start becoming apparent? If Panthera had to take a guess, it would be the night she kissed him. The domestic atmosphere never left the two, from her feeding him in the kitchen with his arms around her to watching the boy snuggle up against her, seeking her out in his sleep.

Everything about that boy was just so endearing to her. Even as they started the school year and Miles gained more popularity amongst their classmates, especially the female population, he would still seek her out for moments of reprieve.

He would always seek after her.

Panthera sighed as she walked through the garden, searching for the center.

If only he asked her out instead of Jamal. Panthera knew she could just come clean to him and see what happened, but damn it. She wanted to be courted.

According to her father, she would be a princess in the land of their ancestors. Was it wrong of her to want to be treated as such?

The girl sighed as the center of the garden came into sight. She was on a date with Jamal, not Miles. The very least she could do was try to give the boy a fair shot...

As she got closer, she immediately felt something was off. Firstly, there was no Jamal in sight. The garden was quiet except for the occasional chirp from the crickets. She double-checked her phone, noting that the time was 7:05. The boy should be here by now...

Cautiously, she explored a bit deeper, looking for anything amiss...

And then it hit her.

Just barely hidden under the natural perfume of the flowers was a sharp metallic smell. A smell Panthera was very familiar with.

Blood.

The girl froze, eyes narrowing as she tried to take in her surroundings to find anything amiss. Nothing. With a shaky hand, she reached into her bag to grab her phone. Jamal had input his number earlier that day so she could call or text him if she ran late or anything of the sort. The girl wasn't looking to use it, seeing how it meant the boy would have her number, but she had to call to see where he was.

Maybe to change the location of their meet-up. Something. Anything.

She hit the call button, bringing the phone to her ear as she heard the line ringing. Quickly, a phone rang to her right, a little beyond a bush. The girl prayed silently that the boy probably dropped his phone as she stepped along the stone pavement to where she could hear the phone ringing in time with her call.

Her heart stopped at what she saw.

The boy looked back at her with lifeless eyes as he lay in his own pool of blood. The roses he had bought were now stained red, along with the pavement underneath him. His neck was twisted in her direction, seeming broken as his lips were parted with a single streak of blood coming from the corner.

With numb fingers, she ended the call with Jamal and dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Yes, hello... I-I... I would like to report a murder..."

-----------------------

Miles had just finished thoroughly cleaning his claws when his phone rang at 7:29. The boy smiled as he heard the sound of Juice WRLD's voice.

Panthera was calling him.

He answered after the second ring, putting the phone on speaker as he got dressed.

"Hey, gatita. How's your date," he greeted. He could hear the sound of police sirens and people talking in the background.

"M-Miles... can... can you come and get me, please? S-Something happened..." The boy expected the tremor in his little beloved's voice, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt his heart to hear it.

"Of course, Panthera. Where are you now," he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"T-The garden... by the p-park..." Confirming that he'll be there in a few minutes, he hung up. Grabbing his jacket and slipping on his Jordans, Miles was out the door.

-----------------------

Panthera sat a little ways away from the crime scene, knee anxiously bouncing. The girl knew this was a common occurrence in their city, but she seriously wasn't expecting this.

After the police took her statement, they pretty much left her alone. That's when the girl called Miles, not feeling mentally sound to be alone. Her stiff posture finally relaxed when she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her.

"Hey, gatita," Miles softly said as the girl curled against his chest. He allowed her to use him to find the comfort she sought, rubbing her back soothingly.

"He's dead," Panthera said flatly as she clung to her best friend. Miles looked down at her, "rightfully," confused by what she meant.

"Jamal... he... he's dead... I found his body," Panthera mumbled. Miles squeezed her closer, kissing her forehead. He could feel the tension ease out of her body as he held her.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Panthera..." Panthera pulled back to find worried tawny eyes staring back at her.

"Can... can I go home with you? Baba isn't gonna be home for a few days... and I don't wanna be by myself..." A kind smile spread on Miles' face.

"Of course, muñeca. As a matter of fact, let's make a date," Miles suggested as he pulled her up to stand alongside him. He chuckled at the confused look on his little kitten's face.

"C'mon, Panthera, let me bring that beautiful smile onto that gorgeous face like I promised. You went through hell tonight. It's the least I could do. Especially when you look so beautiful in your new pretty dress," Miles coaxed, tugging the girl closer by the waist. He watched in mild amusement as she hid her cheeks behind her hands, looking away from him.

"Okay, okay, you flirty menace. Take me somewhere," Panthera relented. Miles smiled, kissing her hand as he tugged her away from the crime scene.

Just as Miles planned.

-----------------------

It was 9:10, and the pair sat on the rooftop of Miles' apartment. To Panthera's pleasant surprise, Miles had ordered from her favorite restaurant, making sure to get her usual order of a full rack of baby back ribs, lemon pepper fries, and mashed potatoes, and arranged for them to have a little candle-lit dinner in the familiar warm atmosphere of his home. Miles refused to stop complimenting the girl, watching on fondly as the girl blushed and giggled at his comments.

After eating, the pair made their way to the rooftop, where they chatted and gazed out their city.

"You really have no right being this beautiful, muñeca. I could bask in your beauty forever," Miles murmured lovingly as he traced small hearts on Panthera's shoulder. The girl flushed, fidgeting with one of the rings on her hand.

"Miiiiiii, stop," the girl whined, the heat in her face making the girl lightheaded. A light chuckle brushed against her eardrum, eliciting a small shiver. Miles leaned in to kiss a warm cheek, wrapping his arms around his girl.

"Nah, you're too cute when you blush," he teased. Panthera slapped his chest in retaliation, but there wasn't a lot of force for it to hurt. Miles chuckled, taking ahold of her hand as he stood up. Panthera's confused gaze was met with a boyish grin.

"Dance with me, gatita," Miles whispered, tugging her closer. Panthera gave him a shy smile.

"Okay... what song do you have in mind," she asked. Miles whipped out his phone in a quick, decisive fashion, quickly going through his playlist before finding the song he wanted and cranking the volume up.

Panthera felt her face flush more as she recognized the beat. It was the ringtone Miles had set for her, but she never heard it longer than a few seconds. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist, she listened to the lyrics.

"...Really think I found my home,

Shorty make me feel at home...

She made me leave the thrills at home,

And I'm fine with it..."

"This is a nice song. I love it," Panthera whispered, looking into those tawny brown eyes that always seemed to hold a special kind of warmth for just her. Miles rested his forehead against Panthera's, content with drowning in her dark eyes and the lyrics.

"I'm glad. It's how I see you," Miles whispered, watching Panthera's eyes flutter with an innocent blink, the same one she does whenever she's confused or curious.

"There's love at my front door, short notice,

You're not like the same girls I notice...

Think I met my soul mate,

Yeah, I know it...

When it gets dark outside,

In you I confide...

You help me face my demons,

I won't hide, hide...

Girls like you are hard to find,

I hope you don't mind...

If I give you the time of your life, life, life..."

"Miles..." "Shhh... just be with me in this moment, hermosa..."

As the song continued the play, the pair continued to dance on the rooftop. The boy couldn't take his eyes off the beauty in his arms, often twirling her under his arm to get that sweet smile he oh-so-loved. Miles loved how Panthera fitted in his arms.

How right it felt to hold her in such a way.

It felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Deep down in his heart, he knew he had found his soulmate, his other half, his person.

"...Now that you're here,

I want nothing to change...

You pick me up when I'm down,

I need you around...

You seen me through my darkest times,

Girl, is there something that you try to find?

You brought meaning to my life,

All because of you, I do right..."

Panthera found herself in a trance. She could only acknowledge those brown eyes staring into her soul and the prancing of her heart.

With the song filling the space between them and her being wrapped in the loving warmth of Miles' arms...

Panthera felt like she was home.

"...We're just two lost souls,

But we're fine with it..."

With the last lyric fading into the beat of the song, the pair stood in place, swaying gently.

"Panthera?" Dark eyes fluttered open to find a lighter pair staring at her. She smiled.

"Yes?" Miles felt his knees weaken a bit, the weight in his pant pocket becoming more apparent.

"There's something I wanna ask you," Miles said slowly, pulling away a bit to hold both her hands in his. Panthera's brows pinched closer together as she gave a slow nod. Miles took a deep breath.

"I always looked back at freshmen year fondly. Being a new kid during the middle of the school year wasn't something I was happy about, especially since I managed to crush on a super pretty girl in several of my classes, and I had no idea how to approach her. But she turned out to be much bolder than I could ever be and sat next to me in art class to ask if we could be friends. Her smile reminded me of the sun; I just wanted to stay in its warmth forever. Our friendship was something I would always cherish because she always saw me for me and wanted me just as I was. My parents loved her to the point that they saw her as a daughter. My uncle had basically adopted her years ago and was ecstatic to have her back in his life again. She brought something special to my life..." Panthera could feel her heart thundering in her chest. The heat from her cheeks chased away the chill of the cool night air.

But she didn't dare take her eyes off the boy standing before her.

"Even during my life's darkest point, she shone bright as the sun. Wrapping me in the warmth of her loving arms, smile, and heart. She never left my side. Before papá died, he... he told me how she would be good for me. That she would take care of my heart the same way mamá did his; he would've loved to see the two of us get together. I already know mamá y tio having been dying for us to get together... and to be honest, gatita... I've been wanting to ask you this for a long time. Ever since the night of my dad's party, when we both said we loved each other..." Panthera watched with bated breath as Miles lowered himself on a single knee. He released one of her hands to grab the black box in his pocket.

"Panthera Genesis Stevens, I've had a crush on you even before our first conversation, which only grew with each day I've spent with you. While I always loved you as a friend, I knew my heart saw you as something more. The night of the party, I wasn't confessing my love as a friend but as someone who dreamt about being called yours, where I could show off that I had the heart of a literal angel in my possession. I would love nothing more than to shower you with love, affection, respect, comradery, protection, devotion, and dedication every day for the rest of our lives. That one day, I'll find myself in this very position again to ask you to become my Mrs. Morales. Where one day, we'll wear matching rings and be known as husband and wife. But for now, I ask you this... Panthera, mi vida, mi ángel, la reina de mi corazon, will you be my girlfriend?" Miles slowly opened the box, revealing the ring inside.

Panthera stared at the boy with teary eyes, her free hand holding an overheated cheek. But Miles could see the happiness in her sparkling eyes and her smile.

"Yes, Miles... I would love to become your girlfriend..." The stars couldn't rival the brightness in the boy's smile. Unable to contain himself, he quickly stood up, picking up the girl to spin her around. Panthera's joyful laughter was music to his ears.

"MI! I'm getting dizzy," she shrieked, clinging to the boy. Miles chuckled, slowing them to a stop before setting her down. Miles took ahold of her left hand with a smile, slipping the ring onto her ring finger. He watched fondly at his girlfriend's cute expression of awe.

"It's so beautiful," she murmured, lightly trancing over their names. Miles grinned, tilting her chin up so she could meet his gaze.

"Anything for you, mami," he said, squeezing her close. Panthera gave him a shy smile, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Kiss me, Papi," she asked. Miles inhaled sharply. His hands found her waist, squeezing down briefly.

'Mio dio...'

"Ask me again, gatita," Miles whispered, his tone reminded Panthera of a man starved. Their lips were just an inch apart, teasing the both of them, but they knew that Miles wasn't gonna close the distance until she asked. A canine tooth wore down on the glossy bottom lip as one small hand slithered down the boy's neck to rest over his erratic heart.

"Please, Miles... kiss me..." Who was Miles Morales to deny such a pretty, pretty plea?

Their first kiss was only witnessed by the celestial bodies from up above.

It was the start of something beautiful...

...and the birth of something deadly.

-----------------------

"Miles?" It was the next week. Valentine's Day weekend was a weekend Panthera would never forget. Miles had spent the weekend at her place, and the two spent the next two days inside, per Panthera's request. And boy, was she spoiled.

Her favorite chocolate? Miles got it.

The cute purple and black stuffed panda she named Milo in honor of her new boyfriend? Miles bought it (and fought for it, she came to find out).

Her favorite flowers sitting in a pretty vase in her room? Miles.

Her feet hurt? She would find her feet propped up on her boyfriend's lap, his steady hands working out the tense soles.

She wanted to watch one of her favorite movies? She would find herself lying on Miles' chest under a blanket with the said movie playing on the screen.

She wanted a scalp massage? Her boyfriend's gentle fingers would massage circles throughout the roots of her locs.

She was craving something? Miles already got a delivery app open.

Those were just a few examples. Panthera truly enjoyed herself (and enjoyed covering a lovesick Miles in kisses).

It was now Monday morning, and Panthera was just about to leave to head to school when she opened her door to find Miles standing on the other side, hand raised to knock.

"Good morning, gatita," Miles purred, kissing his girl's cheek. Panthera blushed, playfully pushing the boy away.

"It's too early for you to make me blush like this. What are you doing here," she chuckled. Miles cocked his head at her.

"I'm here to pick up my wife so we can walk to school together." Panthera would deny the deepening blush if you asked her. Miles laughed when the girl smacked his shoulder.

"Mi! What did I just say?!" Miles raised his hands in surrender despite the mischievous glint in his eyes. When he kissed Panthera's lips, he wasn't pushed away.

"Sorry, gatita," he said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's waist. As much as Panthera tried, she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"Fine, I forgive you. And good morning to you too, handsome," she said, nuzzling his chest.

"Ready to go," he asked. The girl nodded, locking the door before the pair headed to school.

The walk was peaceful enough, and when they got to school, they arrived early enough to where there weren't a lot of people there. Which Panthera was grateful for, knowing the day was going to be a tense one.

Someone literally died. And she was the one who found his body.

Plus, she got into a relationship with her best friend/crush literally that same night? With his promise ring on her finger?

Yeah, she knows she's about to be a hot topic for a while...

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours," Miles mumbled in her ear. The young couple was sitting on one of the many benches that could be found in the school's courtyard. Miles, ever the needy one, had the girl in his lap. Panthera fiddled with her ring.

"Just all the attention I'm about to get today... I'm not looking forward to it," she weakly chuckled. Miles tilted her head towards him so she could look into his eyes.

"Try not to stress over it, mi amor. Remember, I'm with you, Panthera. Always..." The girl smiled, kissing her boyfriend's cheek.

"Thank you, sithandwa sam..."

-----------------------

When the school day officially started, and just as Panthera expected, everyone was staring at her. And they were nowhere near subtle about it. Her keen ears could pick their whispers.

'...she was suppose to go out with him that night...'

'...she found his body...'

'...where did she get that ring...'

The situation wasn't much better when Miles picked her up from her math class to go to art together. The kiss on her cheek was enough to enrage the female population of their grade.

If Panthera didn't love him, she probably would've killed him for that stunt. Because now every girl in her classes was giving her the evil eye.

She's just trying to exist. Is that too much to ask for?

"Hey, Panthera." The answer was yes; it was too much to ask for.

Trying to keep the annoyed look off her face, Panthera looked up from her textbook to find Beatrice James looking down at her.

Beatrice was a rather pretty girl: sun-kissed golden skin, cloudy gray eyes, long black curly hair. She was only taller than Panthera by two inches, but she always found a way to look down at the quiet girl.

It wasn't a surprise to find Beatrice in front of her. While Panthera wasn't in drama, she certainly heard about it. So, she was well aware that the girl demanding her attention wasn't pleased about her relationship status change with Miles.

"Good afternoon, Beatrice. How can I help you," Panthera replied monotonelessly. Beatrice placed her manicured hands on either side of Panthera's desk, leaning into the girl's space.

"Don't play coy with me, Stevens. Is it true?" Panthera simply raised a brow at the girl's attempt to look menacing.

The girl literally had death stare at her dead in the face. Besides, if Beatrice were to put her hands on her, Panthera's hands were rated E for Everyone. She was trained to fight, even trained to kill if necessary. If this girl thought she could scare her, she clearly doesn't know Panthera well.

"Gonna have to be a little more specific in what you're referring to," she drawled. She did her best to suppress a smirk at the subtle twitch in Beatrice's left eye.

"Are. You. Dating. Miles." The girl was practically spitting venom at this point. Not that Panthera was particularly concerned or anything: quite the opposite, matter of fact. Something about having the guy that was unattainable to others was a bit of a power trip. While she knew wearing the promise ring was a recipe for trouble... she was proud of her relationship with Miles. She belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her.

"Why? Looking to get an invite to the wedding," Panthera taunted. Beatrice's face steadily turned red; if they were in a cartoon setting, Panthera was 100% sure that steam would be coming from her ears.

"You little-" Beatrice was suddenly cut off by Panthera's hand suddenly thrust in her face. Her ring-cladded hand.

She could clearly make out Miles and Panthera's names engraved on the metal, their birthstone sparkling in her face.

"Does this answer your pointless question?" 'Oh, this bitch...'

Panthera yelped when she pulled out of her seat, feeling the slight burn sensation erupt on her cheek.

'Oh, is that what we're doing? Bet, hoe.'

Panthera growled, the sound a little more animalistic than human. It was enough to give Beatrice pause and give Panthera the opening to return the favor with a punch to the nose. The satisfying feeling of bone meeting bone made Panthera smirk.

"You bitch," she shrieked, going to scratch Panthera's face again. Two small hands wrapped Beatrice's wrists, grip ironclad. Panthera yanked her towards her, her knee connecting to Beatrice's stomach. Beatrice doubled over with a pained gasp. The girl didn't have time to react before Panthera grabbed her arm and flipped her on her back, her head hitting the floor hard.

Panthera glared down at the girl; blood trickled down her cheek. The girl pressed a foot against Beatrice's chest, looming over the dazed girl.

"I'm not some doormat for you to walk over, Bea. I suggest you learn that," Panthera said softly. Beatrice, stunned, didn't utter a word. Panthera finally tuned in, hearing the teacher yelling at her to get off the "poor girl" and go to the front office. The girl simply rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and walking out.

She suspected that she was probably gonna get suspended or something. Visions didn't tolerate fighting on school grounds, no matter the reason. Not like Panthera cared; she was ahead of her classwork.

Beatrice was sent to the nurse before being sent to the office. Panthera was glaring sightlessly as she was being reprimanded, her eyes only narrowing when she caught sight of Beatrice. Said girl shivered at the cold look in those dark eyes, opting to sit two seats away from the obvious predator in the room. Panthera fought back a smirk while listening to the principal drone on about her punishment. Her dad was "out of town," but he put her umalume as an emergency contact just in case anything happened to her. So he was called in for a quick conference, and she would go home with him.

Less than thirty minutes later, Aaron appeared in the office. Panthera couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

"Umalume!" The man stumbled back a step when Panthera rammed into him, her arms coming around his waist as she nuzzled his chest. The older man chuckled, squeezing the girl briefly.

"Mr. Davis." The older man made eye contact with the principal with a raised brow. The man didn't partially care for Mrs. Manson until today. He was a bit confused when he received a call from the school. At first, he thought it was about Miles, which to him would still be strange because if the boy were to get into trouble (if he wanted to risk the chance of the wrath of the infamous chancla), they would've reached out to Rio first.

But no, it was about his little niece.

Hearing that Panthera got into a fight struck the man as odd. As far as he can recall, Panthera was a rather passive individual. He knew Eric taught the girl how to fight; that man was adamant about his little girl's safety. But he knew that knowledge was supposed to be used to protect herself.

He knew his little cub wouldn't get into a fight for shits and giggles.

"Mrs. Manson," he greeted curtly.

"Mr. Davis, since you're Ms. Stevens' emergency contact, I hope you'll pass this along to her father when you can. Ms. Stevens will be suspended externally for a week for fighting and injuring Ms. James." Aaron balked at the woman before training his eyes on the other girl in the room. He could see the bandage over the girl's nose and the ice pack she was holding to her head.

"Ms. James sustained bruises on her stomach and back as well as a broken nose and swelling to the back of her head," Mrs. Manson informed. Aaron looked down at Panthera, finding deep scratches on her left cheek. The man narrowed his eyes at the dried blood.

"Any reason why you didn't send my niece to get her cheek bandaged," he drawled, his voice rough around the edges. Mrs. Manson didn't miss a beat.

"Panthera is a big girl, she could handle a small scratch-"

"Nah, you see, that's where you lost me. Those nails on that other girl are literal weapons. Matter fact, who struck who first," Aaron laughed mirthlessly.

"I don't see how that's relevant-"

"Lady, I'm giving you a second chance to answer my question. Don't expect a third." The older woman looked at Aaron with slight unease, eyes quickly scanning him for any possible weapons. She cleared her throat.

"It was Ms. James-"

"And how long is she suspended for?" Mrs. Manson did her best not to wither under the sharp gaze of Aaron Davis.

"Three days internal suspension-"

"Enough said. Fine, suspend my niece over a petty fight that she didn't even start and got no treatment for while this little girl gets coddled because her daddy got money to fund this place. Panthera, let's go." The girl already had her bag in hand, following the man out the door.

"The nerve of that wrinkly, heartless white bitch, the fuckin' favoritism in this damn place is disgusting. I'm gonna need a fuckin' smoke after that," Aaron grumbled angrily, speed-walking off the school hallways.

"Umalume! Slow down! My legs aren't as long as yours!" Aaron paused, remembering about his little niece. He turned to embrace the girl once she caught up, taking her by surprise.

"Umalume?"

"Sorry, lil cub. You didn't deserve to be caught up in some bullshit by some nigga's spoiled brat that led you to get kicked out temporarily..." Panthera noted the sad look in her uncle's eyes before nuzzling him.

"It's alright, umalume. I expected today to be eventful... but it's okay! I'm still ahead of my classes, and I have some extra days off from school... that is, if I'm not in trouble..." Aaron chuckled, squeezing the small girl.

"Of course not. I know how you are and how your ol' man raised ya. Whatever that girl did mostly deserved it. Matter fact, what did she do?" Panthera nibbled on her lip.

She and Miles had planned to tell Aaron and Rio about their newfound relationship... just not like this.

Just before she could answer, her stomach grumbled loudly. Aaron raised an amused brow.

"Didn't have lunch yet," she mumbled. She always got hungry at least an hour before lunchtime. Aaron laughed, throwing an arm around the girl's shoulders as they walked off to where he parked his motorcycle.

"C'mon then. Let's clean up that wound, and then we can talk this over some burgers and milkshakes. My treat."

-----------------------

Miles was sitting in the cafeteria with some of his "homeboys" with a bored look on his face. He actually got there first in hopes of him and Panthera sitting together, but the guys found him first. He was half listening to what they were saying, something about Jamal's death and other random shit he didn't care for, all while looking for his precious girlfriend.

But the girl was nowhere in sight. He glanced at his phone, finding no new messages from her, and let out an irritated sigh. It wasn't like his precious gatita to ignore him...

"Yo, ain't that Beatrice walking up to us? She looks like hell," Kieran whistled. Logan chuckled.

"Haven't you heard? She got her ass beat by one of the girls last period. That one chick with the dreads. She was supposed to go out with Jamal the night he died, forgot her name..." That got Miles' attention.

"Panthera," he offered, finally turning his attention to the group.

"Yeah, her! Actually, it had to do with her relationship with-"

"Hey Miles~" 'Oh for fuck sake...'

"I'm a little busy, Beatrice," Miles said with a dismissive wave. The girl narrowed her eyes.

"But Milesssss, I need to talk to you! It's important," she whined, leaning dramatically on his shoulder. Miles could feel his eye twitch at the contact, shrugging the girl off.

"I said I'm busy-"

"Busy talking about that brute you call a girlfriend?" Miles froze before slowly turning his head to face the girl.

"Excuse me," he said. He finally took note of the girl's bandaged nose and slightly disheveled appearance. He could slightly see the change of colors peeking out of the bandage.

"Panthera's your girlfriend, isn't she," she asked rhetorically. The other boys focused on the duo, silently eager for more details.

"Damn straight she is, but she's no brute," Miles scoffed. Beatrice pouted.

"She nearly cracked my skull in the middle of class! All because I asked if you two were dating. It's not a good look for you to be with such a loose cannon, Miles. Especially with her seemingly violent family." Tawny brown eyes glared into gray ones.

"First of all, Panthera would never fight anybody without someone giving her a reason to, so I already know you're bullshitting me on a few details there. Second of all, what the fuck do you mean by that," Miles asked, his accent becoming thicker the angrier he got. Beatrice continued to try to play into her innocent act.

"The principal called her uncle into the office to let him know that Panthera has external suspension and she's supposed to be sent home immediately. The man looked as if he was gonna murder Mrs. Manson! He had the nerve to defend Panthera as if she didn't beat me up so viciously. My stomach and back are gonna be bruised for weeks!"

Panthera's uncle... Uncle Aaron.

So, not only is she talking shit about his girl, but she talking about his uncle too?

Miles chuckled. Everyone at the table looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Yo bro, what about that is funny? Beatrice got hurt, and Mrs. Manson was threatened," Logan asked, slightly unnerved.

"So you expect me to fully believe in a girl who basically used other guys as she pleased and wanted me to be her next conquest over a girl I've known ever since I came to this damn school? You want me to believe a girl who is talking shit about my girlfriend but my uncle too? Are you so fucking serious?" Everyone blinked.

"You're dating your cousin or something," Andre asked after being silent most of this time. Miles stared at him blankly.

"No, cabrón. My uncle knew Panthera and her dad ever since they moved to Brooklyn. He's basically an uncle figure to her. My uncle is my dad's brother. As for you-" Miles returned his gaze to Beatrice, who looked a little shocked.

"Hop off my dick and find another to ride. I don't like you and will never like you, perra de dos caras. You already managed to get my baby suspended and disrespected her and my uncle. Lo juro por Dios, if I hear you continue to start some shit about her-" Miles paused, forcing himself to breathe. He simply glared at the group and walked off.

He had a phone call to make...

-----------------------

"IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME!" Forget the cigarette; this was the best news Aaron had heard all day.

"Umalume! Not so loud," Panthera scolded as a few patrons turned to look in their direction, though the effect was lost thanks to her flushed face. Aaron playfully cooed, pinching one of her cheeks.

"D'awww, no need to be shy, little cub. I'm just happy for two of my favorite people," Aaron chuckled. Panthera swatted his hand away, looking away bashfully.

"You said my nephew bought you a ring? Lemme see the bling, girl!" Holding out her left hand, Panthera allowed the older man to inspect the metal band on her finger. Aaron whistled in appreciation.

"On the left ring finger, too, haha. Panthera, you sure Miles asked you to be his girlfriend and not his fiancée?" The older man cackled when his niece smacked his arm, her blush worsening.

"You're horrible," she said with a pout. Panthera took a sip of her milkshake in a futile attempt to help her cool down as she waited for Aaron to pull himself together.

Miles wasn't kidding when he said Aaron would be eager to hear they were finally together. She could only imagine how Rio would react...

"You can't blame me for my reaction, lil cub. Do you know how down bad my nephew has been for you? I swear that boy had heart eyes every time he saw you. Jeff, Rio, and I have been dying, waiting for you guys to finally come clean to each other and tell us the good news." Panthera's eyes softened as Aaron mentioned Jefferson. It's been months since he passed, and to think on his death bed, he basically gave Miles his blessings for a potential relationship with her filled the girl's heart with warmth.

"Well, now I know, thanks," she grumbled. Aaron smiled good-naturedly at her, taking a bite out of his burger.

"Soooooo, how long have you guys been together," he asked. Panthera took her time nibbling on her fry.

"Not long, just a few days... I was actually supposed to be on a date with someone else when Miles asked me..." The raised brow silently prompted the girl to elaborate.

"His name was Jamal, Jamal Jackson. He and I had creative writing and music class together. Almost a week before Valentine's Day, he asked me out the night before Valentine's. At first, I told him no since I didn't see him like that, but he was very persistent. So I said yes... the night I was supposed to go out with him..." Aaron frowned, not liking the nervous expression on Panthera's face.

"What? Fool stood you up or something," he asked as he casually sipped his shake. If her answer was yes, then he clearly had another person on his shit list-

"He was murdered." Aaron blinked. Once. Then twice. And then...

"He was what?" Panthera sighed.

"He was murdered, umalume. I found his dead body. He... he had claw marks in his abdomen, and his neck was broken..." A frown tugged on his lips.

'Claw marks, huh?'

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, lil cub... you okay?" Panthera gave him a weak smile.

"I'm fine, umalume. After I called 911 and the police took my statement, I called Miles, and he took me on a date to take my mind off it. He asked me to be his girlfriend on the rooftop of his apartment." Aaron nodded.

"At least something good came out of it. I'm just gonna take a wild shot in the dark and guess that your fight with that James girl was over your relationship with my nephew." Panthera scoffed.

"Yeah..." Another person on his shit list next to Mrs. Manson.

"No need to pay that crazy little girl any mind, lil cub. I know that Miles loves you more than life itself. That boy is not going anywhere-" Aaron was interrupted by Panthera's ringing from a FaceTime call. Aaron didn't recognize the artist by a long shot, but just by the small snippet, it definitely fits his nephew's cheesy, lovey-dovey nature.

Panthera blushed, silently telling him to shut up with a glare before answering the FaceTime call.

"Mamiiiiii," Miles whined. Panthera hid her smile behind a hand, doing her best not to laugh.

"Hey there, Papi," she cooed, snickering at the pout on the boy's usual passive face.

"Don't you 'hey there, Papi' me. Why you ain't tell me you're not in school anymore? Left me all by my lonesome with this bum ass niggas and clingy ass hoes," Miles pouted. The boy was looking forward to holding his girlfriend while she sat in his lap while he stole some kisses. Only to find out he's gonna be without her for a whole fucking week, the boy pissed-

"Not like I had time between getting suspended and getting lunch with umalume. He knew better not to let me go hungry," Panthera sassed. Both males knew how scary or cold the girl could get when she didn't eat.

"Fair- wait a damn minute... what happened to your cheek," Miles asked with narrowed eyes. Panthera let out a nervous laugh.

"Nothing, just a small scratch," she tried to wave it off, but Aaron wasn't having it. Kissing his teeth, he snatched the girl's phone. Miles regarded his uncle with a raised brow.

"Tío?" Aaron used one hand to hold Panthera's wrists so she couldn't get her phone back as he answered his nephew's unspoken question.

"Yo Miles, you know some girl by the last name James? Lightskin, dark curly hair, gray eyes, with some long ass nails that might as well be literal weapons. 'Cause apparently, she was bold enough to use them on Panthera," Aaron asked. Miles blinked at his uncle before letting out a curse.

"That two-timing spoiled bit-"

"Miles, focus." The boy took a breath to cool down his anger.

"Yeah, I do, unfortunately. The puta had the nerve to come up to me during class pretending to "look out for my well-being" by telling me that Panthera's a loose cannon and a brute and how "dangerous" her family could be to me." Aaron raised a brow.

"What was that last comment supposed to mean?" Miles shrugged.

"Something about you condoning Panthera's violent behavior and threatening the principal." Aaron chuckled. Miles knew that chuckle and smirked.

"Ah, so little Ms. James is an actress, okay then. And that old hoe was testing my patience. That little girl had a lesser punishment despite starting this mess first." Miles froze, eyes narrowing.

Panthera frowned, deciding she was done hearing about the two women who seemed to have it out for her.

"Can we change the subject? And can I have my hands back, umalume?" Aaron chuckled, releasing her wrists with a smirk.

"Sooooo... a little birdy told me you off the market, Miles," Aaron started. Miles groaned.

"Mio dio, tío. Don't start." Aaron laughed.

"Oh boy, just wait 'til your mother hears about this. She gonna end throwing a party in y'all's honor."

"Umalume!"

"Tío!"

-----------------------

Needless to say, after school, when everyone was in the Morales' residence, Rio was told the news.

At least more than half the neighbors heard her shout of joy—much to Panthera and Miles' fond embarrassment.

-----------------------

Beatrice was pissed. Livid. Utterly incensed.

Despite getting rid of her rival for a week and smearing Panthera's name for all it was worth (which, according to Beatrice, wasn't worth much), she still didn't have the boy she wanted.

Beatrice would be the first to admit that she wasn't looking at Miles Morales twice in the beginning. He seemed to be like the quiet nerd. A cute one, but still not someone she would really give the time of day to.

Then, junior year started, and Miles returned as a changed person.

He had grown a couple more inches since she last saw him during the summer from the funeral. He lost the rest of the baby fat that lingered on his cheeks from their sophomore year. He buffed up a bit, not crazily so, but his lithe form had more muscle than what she remembered. His accent was much more pronounced. He seemed to lose that shy nerd vibe and took on what could be a bad-boy vibe.

Miles Morales became the most desirable boy in their grade, and Beatrice wanted him. She would flirt with any boy she saw hanging around him for more than a week in hopes of gaining some intel on Miles' type.

That turned out to be much more difficult to gain. Miles doesn't talk about his personal interests with the boys, and he gives no real reaction to girls who flirt with him. Beatrice briefly entertained the idea that he might be closeted because how come some of the prettiest girls in their class only get a blank stare and single-word responses from the boy while others would break their necks and ankles to look and chase them?

Then she thought that maybe Miles could possibly have a girlfriend. It almost sounded just crazy as the gay theory because Beatrice had never seen him interact with another girl like that.

Or so she thought.

She finally remembered Panthera Stevens when she saw her and Miles walking to one of their classes together. She remembered always seeing them together in the halls when Miles first got transferred to Visions Academy. She was Miles's first and perhaps the only friend for a long time. The sight of them together now shouldn't have struck her as unusual, but it did. The boy was holding one of her books and was smiling at her—and not just any smile.

It was one of those "Damn, I love her" smiles. One of those "I'm down bad" smiles. One of those "Where have you been all my life" smiles.

At first, Beatrice thought she was reading too deep into it. Panthera was... well... unique. And she didn't mean that in a nice way.

There was nothing eye-catching about the girl's appearance per se. She had regular dark brown eyes, dark skin, and wore her hair in locs. The girl stuck out because she was so plain-looking. Seeing her wear makeup to school or even having her nails done was incredibly rare. Plus, she was one of the only girls who would even wear her natural hair.

What did Miles see in her that he didn't see in any of them?

Beatrice couldn't wrap her head around it, which pissed her off.

And apparently, Miles wasn't the only one. Jamal Jackson seemed to harbor a crush on the quiet girl and even went as far as to ask her out. It was like a miracle because finally, someone could get the one obstacle to Miles out of the way, and one of the girls, preferably Beatrice, could get with Miles.

The day for their date came...

Panthera found Jamal's body.

And now a promise ring could be found on Panthera's ring finger, with Miles' name on the metal band.

Panthera Stevens became a hot topic overnight, and Beatrice has had it. She wanted to ruin the girl.

So she started a little rumor that Panthera killed Jamal so she could be with Miles; no other guy was feeling Panthera in the first place. Why would anyone date a murderer?

Now Beatrice doesn't really know if Panthera killed Jamal or not, but if people choose to believe it, who was she to correct them?

This should appall Miles so much that he had to break up with her.

Only... it didn't pan out that way.

It was Friday, and the murder was all anyone could talk about. A lot of people thought it made sense. With word about Panthera's fight with Beatrice and her (and Miles, shockingly) uncle's not-so-subtle threat to Mrs. Manson already circulating, it added some "validity" to the rumor. Beatrice couldn't help but feel pleased with herself. When Panthera returned next week on Monday, she would virtually become an outcast in their class. The attention of it all would eventually be too much for Miles, and he'll break up with her.

And Beatrice would be right there, ready to console him.

To celebrate, Beatrice went out with some of her friends for a night out.

The girls went out for a night of dancing and flirting with a few older dudes. Beatrice may have had a drink or two, but that was no one's business but her own. The girl called a car service to take her home safely since walking in the devil's playground at night while tipsy might as well be a death sentence. Beatrice called one of her friends, Jasmine, to let her know she got home safely. As the girl was chopping it up on the phone and fumbling around in her mini purse for her keys, she had no idea that white digital eyes were watching her.

Finally finding her keys, Beatrice opened her front door and stepped inside. Beatrice shut the door behind her, completely forgetting to lock it, before walking further into her house. Quickly and silently, the figure entered through the front door, quietly stalking the girl in the shadows of her own home.

"Whew, girl! I'm so glad to be home; my feet are killing me," Beatrice said as she kicked off her heels. The figure watched as Beatrice laughed at something Jasmine said.

"Girl, even when I get with Miles, Imma still make time for my girls. What are you even talking about?! Just because I'm in a relationship don't mean I can't have fun," the girl giggled. Jasmine said something more, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"Girl, whatever, bye." Beatrice walked into her room with a yawn. The girl would love to crash in bed and call it a night, but unless she wants her face to look like that back of a Crunch bar, then she better-

White digital eyes met her eyes in her full-view mirror. She could feel her heart freeze in her chest, her blood slowing to a crawl as the cold brush of fear caressed her spine. It was like all the alcohol that was buzzing in her system was fizzled out.

"W-who... who are you?" The mask the person was wearing lit up, neon purple lights flooded her room. Only one entity would light up the night with those colors.

"P-Prowler..." A distorted chuckle filled the quiet room.

"So you are smart, aren't you, Beatrice?" The girl let out a soft whimper.

"How d-do y-you-" The question died on her lips as she felt a gloved hand grip her waist and a clawed hand around her neck. The Prowler lowered his head, almost resting it on her shoulder.

"Such a smart girl, but yet you decided to make the stupidest decision you could've ever made," the Prowler cooed mockingly.

"W-what are y-you even t-talking about?" Beatrice watched as the mask pulled back, revealing the cold eyes of Miles Morales.

"M-Mil-"

"I fucking warned you, Beatrice." The girl hissed when the hand on her waist tightened roughly.

"I told you not to start shit about my baby, and what do you do?" The tips of Miles' claw began to dig into her skin.

"You accuse mi dulce ángel inocente of murder?" Beatrice's chest began to rise and fall faster and faster with each breath.

"I-I-I'm sor-" Beatrice was whirled around to face the boy, a sneer tugging on his lips.

"Way too late for a sorry, puta. You all must've thought I was joking when I said not to test me. I guess Jamal wasn't a good enough example..." Gray eyes widened, and Miles smirked down at her as the look of horrified realization could be found in them. His clawed hand caressed her cheek, the tips leaving bloody streams behind.

"Maybe you'll be a better one. And trust me, I'm gonna take my time with you, Beatrice. You'll have my attention, just like you always wanted..."

-----------------------

It was roughly 1 AM when Miles finally leaves Beatrice's house. Just as he locked the door behind him, his burner phone began to ring.

"Yo, you took care of her," Aaron's distorted voice filtered through the line. Miles smirked; the memory of stuffing the girl's heart in her mouth as she bled out was gruesomely poetic.

"Eat your heart out, puta."

To Miles' it was a fitting end for the girl—a vain, selfish heartbreaker who got what was coming to her.

"Yup, you took care of her," Miles asked. Aaron chuckled.

"Oh, most definitely," Aaron said, smirking at the sight of Grace Manson's hanging dead body. Her heart lay in a puddle of blood beneath her feet.

"Thanks, Unc."

"Of course, I would do anything for you two."

-----------------------

The next morning felt like a fever dream. Panthera woke up that Saturday morning to watch the news, trying to see if there was any news on Jamal's murder...

...only to find out that Beatrice and Mrs. Manson were dead. Found by their families.

Their hearts were ripped out.

There were no signs of forced entry and no evidence.

The only thing that tied the murders together was how close the times of death were, meaning these murders had to be coordinated.

It was cold, calculated, and clean. While Panthera was annoyed about the whole ordeal from Monday, she wouldn't want the two people who put her in this position dead.

The girl nearly detached herself from reality, the key word being nearly. It was at that exact moment Miles called. It wasn't unusual for him to call when he woke up, and he was a welcome distraction. While she tried to hide her nerves, her boyfriend could hear the slight tremor in her voice. Plus, the rustling in the background.

Whenever she's stressed or upset, Panthera is known to stress-clean. Miles knows she saw the news, which had shaken her up pretty badly. He knew she would've been mentally spiraling alone if he hadn't spent the weekend over at her place for Valentine's Day. Deciding not to let his little kitten go through this alone, he just kept talking to her over the phone as he got ready to head to her place.

The boy used the apartment key Eric gave him to silently enter the home. Panthera was talking about a father-daughter date she and her dad had planned when he comes back later that week, so she was thoroughly distracted. Listening closely, it sounded like she was in her bathroom. With a small smile, he entered the apartment, her room, and the adjacent bathroom. Panthera's back was facing him as she reorganized her shower. Quietly, he snuck up on his girl before looping his arms around her waist.

As expected, Panthera let out a surprise squeal. What wasn't expected was the hard stomp on his foot and the headbutt to his face.

"AH! Gatita, calm down! It's me!" Panthera paused her attack at her boyfriend's voice, turning to find the boy holding his nose.

"Mi! I'm so sorry, but you shouldn't have scared me like that! There's a bloody killer, for Bast's sake!" The girl fussed over her man, checking to see if she may have caused any bleeding. Miles chuckled, holding her wrists.

"My apologies, mami. I wanted to see you to make sure you're okay, which I know you're not, so don't even try to deny it." Panthera sighed, getting on her toes to kiss the bridge of Miles' nose. She allowed herself to be picked up and toted to her bed. Miles sat down, maneuvering her so she would be straddling his lap.

"Talk to me, mi amor. I'm here for you..." Panthera pecked his lips before nuzzling his neck.

"It's just that... I know this city has gotten darker after... well, you know. And I've been trained by my Baba to handle myself if need be, but I know it would be out of self-defensive. It would be my life or theirs... I could even understand if the person was terrible and needed to be taken out, but this..." Panthera shuddered. Miles kissed her forehead, gently rubbing her back.

Silence befell the couple for a few moments before Panthera spoke up again.

"Did you know my grandfather was murdered?" Miles grimaced. Panthera didn't notice this, forging ahead.

"My utatomkhulu, N'Jobu, was a prince in his country. But he did bad things. He smuggled some precious materials out of the country and moved here. Most of the material he sold to a man off the black market, but the rest he kept hidden away. He met my Baba's mother, and they had him. Unfortunately, she died not too long after my Baba was born. It was just the two of them. Until one night, Baba was outside playing basketball with his friends. It wasn't until he looked up at the sky and saw a ship that was similar to the ones he heard in stories. He was excited that maybe our family from our homeland was coming for them, and he ran back to the apartment. That's where he found utatomkhulu's body, lying in a pool of blood. He had claw marks embedded in his chest. My Baba was left alone before he was even a teenager..."

Miles nuzzled his face in her hair, holding her as tight as he could.

So this was what Aaron meant.

"Boy! I outta smack the shit outta you! You impaled the nigga and left the body for her to find?! Did you not think about how it might impact her? Do you not know her fuckin' family history?!"

When Aaron blew up on him for killing Jamal, he thought it was because he left behind the body. Turns out, it had less to do with Jamal and more to do with Panthera. When Miles showed clear confusion over what his uncle was talking about, the man calmed down.

"So she didn't tell you yet... Look, it's not my story to tell, Miles... just know murder is something her family is familiar with. Especially if it seems senseless.."

"Oh, gatita, I'm so sorry that your family had to go through that..." Panthera finally looked up, finding sorrowful eyes staring back at her. She offered a weak smile.

"I'm gonna be okay, love. I'm just happy that you're here with me." Miles smiled softly, caressing her cheek.

"I'll always be here for you, Panthera. Always..." Miles leaned in, kissing those soft lips he loved so much. A soft sigh escaped the girl's lungs. Her arms found their way around Miles' neck as she pressed closer. Panthera didn't change out of her sleepwear before Miles showed up, which the boy was glad for. The girl's pajamas leave little to imagination, as she preferred crop tops, tube tops, comfy short shorts, or little night dresses to sleep in. Only a brown crop top and brown cheetah print covered her body, meaning access to soft dark skin.

A soft moan left Panthera's mouth as she felt her boyfriend's hands massage her thighs. The small calluses that decorated his fingertips and palms felt good against her soft skin. Miles suckled on her bottom lip, earning a sweet little whimper.

"Miles," Panthera whispered, arching against the boy. He let out an inquisitive hum.

"¿Qué pasa, mi dulce ángel?" Miles started spreading kisses to her chin, jaw, cheeks...

"Just... need a second..." Miles nodded, burying his face in her neck. He could feel her pulse fluttering under his lips as he pressed a kiss there.

"Love you so much, mami," he mumbled against the soft skin, his hands rubbing her waist and hips. The girl let out a shy giggle, playing with his braids.

"I love you too, Papi..."

-----------------------

Time passed.

Panthera returned to school, doing her best to ignore the stares from her classmates. Miles had informed her that Beatrice had been spreading the rumor that she had killed Jamal before Beatrice herself was killed. At least she had the weekend to mentally prepare for the amount of eyes trying to flay her skin from her bones.

The students started moving on within a few weeks, much to her and her boyfriend's relief.

Despite the investigations, no clues or evidence that could lead to the killers could be found. Though Panthera doubts they'll ever be solved, the NYPD hasn't been the greatest at their jobs since Jeff died. If her life was on the line, the police would be the last people she would reach out to.

Funerals were had. Tears were shed. Life moves on.

Luckily, no one else was killed. The principal was replaced, and soon junior year was over.

Summer went off without a hitch. With school over, Miles could spend more time with his little girlfriend, much to his evident delight. With all the funds he saved up, he was able to spoil his baby a bit more.

Date nights, gifts, flowers, clothes, whatever he thought she would like, whatever she wanted, and whatever he thought would look good on her. He always loved the cute little surprised expression on her face whenever he gifted her something or where he took her somewhere new.

"Miles, you didn't have-"

"Shhh, I want to, mami. You deserve all this and more..."

Panthera was reluctant to accept a lot of the gifts, mainly because she's not used to getting "just because" gifts that look so nice. Not that her dad doesn't spoil her when he could, but she never expects it nor asks. She was content as long she had the presence of the person she loved. But soon, she felt comfortable wearing a lot of the stuff her boyfriend had got her, mainly the jewelry. Mainly the necklaces with his name on them or the name earrings (pleasing the possessive and obsessive side of his brain.)

Of course, that attracted the attention of some would-be thieves on one of her late-night walks.

Granted, the girl usually wore her necklaces under her hoodie, but she was a bit more spaced out than usual that night. She fiddled with the key-shaped necklace with Miles' name on it; her fingers tracing the letters of her boyfriend's name was the only thing anchoring her.

Her mind was replaying the last few months. As traumatic as it was, she was also happy. She was in a loving relationship with a sweet, handsome, clingy, strong, and protective Afro-Latino. She had a loving maternal figure for the first time in her life. She was reunited with the man she saw as an uncle.

She was happy...

But she couldn't shake the feeling something bad was going to happen... and for the life of her, she's not even sure what it could be.

Maybe she was overthinking-

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" 'Oh, for Bast's sake...'

Panthera turned, finding three men staring down at her. The ringleader smirked at her.

"Lost, little girl?" Dark eyes narrowed.

"Not little." The men laughed.

"Fiesty, I like her, Rando," The guy on the left said. Rando looked Panthera up and down with gleaming eyes.

"You not the only one..."

"What do you want," Panthera hissed, glancing at the trio. Rando stepped closer with a disarming smile.

"Me and my boys couldn't help but notice that you were by your lonesome and wanted to see if maybe you needed some company..."

"Not necessary, fellas. Now, if you'll excuse me-" Before Panthera could even take a step away, Rando trapped her arm. Large fingers studied the key charm around her necklace.

"Pretty necklace you got there. Your boyfriend got it for you?" Panthera sneered.

"Yes, not like it's any of your business-" Panthera hissed when the chain of her necklace dug into her skin as Rando pulled at it.

"I'm making it my business, little girl. A necklace like this probably didn't come cheap. It would be a shame if you-OOF!" Taking advantage of her free arm, Panthera quickly punched Rando's abdomen. Feeling the grip on her arm loosens, the girl jumped back, eyes narrowed as she glared the three men down. Rando returned it with one of his own, a sneer tugging on his lips.

"You little bitch. I'm gonna make you regret that." A wicked grin spread on Panthera's lips.

"I would love to see you try."

-----------------------

It has been some time since Panthera had been in a fight. Her dad was gone a little more frequently recently, so she didn't train often. Yeah, she trains with Miles and Aaron, but she knows they were pulling their punches because they didn't want to hurt her.

These men didn't know they chose the right one on the wrong day.

Rando's accomplices were out cold; one was shot since he wanted to be big and bad and shoot at her first. The sound of the man's pained scream when her bullet struck true into his shoulder, was music to her ears.

Now, it was just Rando and her. Bruises were already starting to form on the girl's body, but she learned to ignore the pain. The girl spat out a glob of blood as she stared down the older guy.

"C'mon Rando, I thought I was gonna regret messing with you," she taunted, bouncing on her feet. Rando snarled, trying to appear intimidating, but the girl could see the fear in his eyes.

"You got a death wish?" Panthera grinned; the sight was enough to unnerve the would-be thief.

"No more than you do." Panthera didn't hesitate to rush forward, more than ready to finish this and go home when pain erupted in her back. A scream ripped through her vocal cords as she faltered in her pursuit. The girl glanced over to find the same man who shot at her earlier aiming his gun at her with a smirk. Before Panthera could do anything, two arms wrapped around her in a vice grip—one around her neck and one around her waist. A wince slipped through her teeth as the arm around her neck tightened.

"Why not you take a little nap, yea? When you sleep off all data the aggression, maybe you could make it up to me and my homeboys for all the trouble you caused." The girl could feel something poking at her lower back and started thrashing, clawing at the arm that was quickly taking her oxygen supply.

She refused to let these guys take advantage of her. She won't allow-

"Let her go." Everyone froze, all eyes trained on the masked newcomer among them. Said mask flickered on, purple lights lighting up the dark alley. Rando quickly released her, backing up from the vigilante.

"A-Aye, easy man. We don't want n-no problems..." The newcomer cocked his head.

"Well, ain't that a shame." Rando didn't even have time to question what he meant as the vigilante slammed him against the nearest wall. The Prowler glanced over his shoulder. White digital eyes met with wide brown ones.

"E-Easy there, Prowler... I-I didn't know that w-was your girl. I-It won't happen again," Rando stammered. The masked being chuckled.

"I know it won't... because you wouldn't be around to attempt such a stupid thing." The soft whirl of the mechanisms and gears was the only sound heard as the Prowler unleashed his claws. Before he could tear into the older man, a loud yell came behind him.

"LOOK OUT!" The vigilante was able to duck, narrowly avoiding the bullet. Rando, however, wasn't so lucky. The man slumped to the ground, a bullet hole found in his neck. Rando let out a pitiful gurgle as his own blood choked the life out of him. The Prowler slowly turned to find the trembling figure on the dirty alleyway floor staring at him with fearful eyes.

"Ballsy, aren't you," the Prowler drawled, fingers flexing in his metal claw.

"I-I-I-" The man didn't get the chance to formulate a response when another gunshot rang out. The Prowler stared at the bullet hole marring the man's forehead before slowly turning to find Panthera holding her gun, albeit with shaky hands.

"Coldblooded, don't you think?" Panthera let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline pumping in her veins.

"It was either him or us. I'm sure you know how that is." He does, but the vigilante doesn't voice his confirmation. Panthera met the soulless eyes of Brooklyn's shadowy anti-hero. Before she could say anything, she felt her body sway, unable to hold her weight. Before she could hit the ground, two strong arms held her up against a solid chest.

"Hey, stay with me. Keep those pretty eyes open for me. I'm going to help you." Despite the disoriented, gravelly voice of the Prowler rumbling in her ears, Panthera felt oddly comforted by him. She struggled to stay awake as the masked vigilante gently set her on the ground.

She didn't protest when the vigilante lifted her hoodie and shirt to reveal her wound. All she could do was lay there as the Prowler fussed over her.

It kinda of reminded her of her boyfriend whenever she was going through the first two days of her period, where the girl would be dying in bed until her cramps and bleeding lessened. Miles is always so sweet and attentive to her, always looking out for her and taking care of her.

She missed her boyfriend; she just wanted to be wrapped in his arms and sleep...

"Aye, wake up, pretty girl. I'm almost done. Don't close your eyes, stay with me..." Panthera blinked blearily at the vigilante.

"Mmm... s..so tired," she mumbled. The girl obviously couldn't see the nervous panic on the guy's face, but she could faintly hear it in his voice.

"I know you are, but you gotta stay awake. I need to take you somewhere safe. It's not far from here. Just stay awake." The girl could feel herself being lifted up, cradled against the Prowler's chest before he took off running. Panthera felt the fatigue and bruising pain sing from the marrow of his bones; her own eyelids felt like two-ton weights.

"J...just five minutes," she whispered, laxing in the vigilante's grip, despite it tightening on her.

"No, no, no! W...up! P... Damn....!" The Prowler's panicked shouts were the last thing Panthera heard before her world went black.

-----------------------

"Will she be okay?" Aaron turned when he heard the small voice of his nephew. When Aaron received an SOS signal from his nephew, he was worried he may have gotten injured while on patrol. When he arrived at one of their secret warehouses, he quickly realized it wasn't him who needed treatment but his precious niece. The man was no medical professional, but he knew his way around bullet wounds and other injuries, seeing how it comes with the job, unfortunately.

He had just finished wrapping Panthera's abdomen where her bullet wound lay. Thankfully, there was an exit point (he would hate to try to dig around his niece's internal organs for the piece of metal), and it didn't touch any vital organs. If he hadn't tended to her when he did, they would've lost her due to blood loss. Aaron turned back to the unconscious girl to tend to the bruises on her body.

"She'll survive the night, Miles. Don't worry," Aaron said gently. He felt arms wrap around his torso, tears wetting the back of his shirt.

"Thank you, tío. I-I-It means a lot..." Aaron's heart seized at the tone of his nephew's voice. The relief tinged with the undeniable tremble of fear. The girl was more loved than she would ever begin to understand. They all did, Miles especially. He knew how deeply Miles loved Panthera, scarily so.

Aaron didn't want to know what would happen to the boy if the girl was no longer with them. It would shatter him. Hell, it would break him and Rio, too.

"Like I told you before, Miles, I would do anything for you two."

-----------------------

The next time Panthera woke up, it wasn't in her bed. Bleary dark eyes tried to take in her surroundings despite fatigue weighing down on her like a million bricks.

"W-Where..." Bits of her memory flashed in her mind. Rando. A gunshot. The Pr-

"Easy..." The distorted voice she faintly remembered mumbling words of comfort sounded in her ears. Squinting in the dark, she turned to find not only one but two pairs of white slits looking at her. She blinked slowly.

"W-who..." Before she could finish her question, the cool lip of a glass cup kissed her dry lips.

"Drink, you definitely need it," the taller man said. Not in any real shape to argue, Panthera took slow, measured sips of the water being given to her. She let out a soft, relieved sigh when she finished. Soon, something was placed in her lap.

"Eat," the shorter stated. She looked down to find scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, sausages, a cream cheese spread bagel, and fruit on a plate. She raised a brow at the duo before chuckling.

"Bossy," she teased before digging into her food. The two looked satisfied (at least she could assume they were; hard to tell with them wearing masks and all) before leaving her alone in the room. As the girl ate, she couldn't help but take in her surroundings. The bedroom was sparse, leaving no clues of any personality from the two Prowlers. At the very least, the room was clean, so it must be used quite a bit. She could see the dark skyline of the broken city she called home outside the barred window.

Finishing her food, she carefully set her plate on the dresser before approaching the window, staring out in silence.

"Finished?" Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the younger Prowler approached her. She turned to face him as he stood less than a foot away.

"Thank you... for saving me." The Prowler cocked his head at this.

"I can't say I did much. If anything, I should be thanking you. You were the one who kept me from getting killed and finishing off the other guy," he replied. Panthera let out a soft chuckle, hugging the vigilante.

"And if you didn't show up when you did, those guys would've done unspeakable things to me," she whispered. Prowler froze for a few moments, carefully wrapping his arms around her. The two stood there for a bit, neither saying a word. Panthera knew she shouldn't feel so comfortable around the vigilante, but something about him felt safe.

Like she could trust that he would never hurt her.

That he would always protect her.

Panthera let out a sigh before pulling away. She returned her gaze to the city.

"I need to go home," she said. She overstayed her welcome and would love to crash in her own bed for a few more hours. She felt the Prowler take hold of her hand.

"I can take you," he offered. The girl pursued her lips in contemplation before giving a small nod. Hand in hand, the duo walked out of the bedroom and into the main room. The older Prowler was still there, seemingly cleaning his claws when he heard them.

"You taking her home," the man asked. The younger nodded. Giving the infamous vigilante a shy smile, the girl bowed her head.

"Thank you for taking care of me, sir. I wish you well..." The older Prowler gave a nod.

"Take care of yourself, little one."

-----------------------

Panthera isn't usually afraid of heights. She took gymnastics at one point. But she supposes it's different when you rely on someone else to catch you rather than yourself.

The girl didn't scream but couldn't help but cling to the vigilante's back like a baby koala as he jumped from building to building, occasionally using grappling wires to help bridge the gap. She provided him with her address to make it easier for him to find. Luckily for her and her stomach, the Prowler didn't take long to reach her apartment. The boy swung onto her fire escape, carefully setting her down.

"There, safe and sound," he said once she got her feet on the metal platform. The girl nodded, glancing at the vigilante through her lashes.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you for taking me home," she mumbled. She turned to her window, carefully pulling it up.

"You shouldn't be wandering the streets at night anymore. Too many dangers." The girl paused, glancing over her shoulder, regarding the Prowler with a raised brow.

"'Fraid I can't promise that. It's not my first time doing this; this hasn't been my first fight. Just the first time I got shot," she mumbled. The vigilante didn't like that answer, his eyes narrowing before letting out a sigh.

"Guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you..." The boy trailed off. Panthera immediately caught onto what he was silently asking for.

"Panthera." The Prowler nodded.

"I'll just keep an eye on you then, Panthera." The girl laughed before hugging the boy.

"I guess I could use more people who worry about my well-being. Especially if he's such an infamous figure in Brooklyn's underworld with a soft spot for me," she teased. She didn't need to see the guy's face to know he was blushing.

"I-uh..." Panthera laughed as she pulled away.

"Don't give yourself a stroke, I'm teasing. I'll see you around Prowler." The masked face nodded at her.

"Rest up, Panthera." The vigilante watched as the girl slipped through her window before disappearing in the fading darkness. The girl let out a loud yawn, blinking rapidly.

"Check wounds. Shower. Bed," she mumbled, mentally switching to autopilot. It's been a long night, and the girl wasn't in the mood to think about what happened. She fiddled with her necklace with a sigh.

Never had she ever thought her relationship with the boy she loved would cause her this much hell in such a short amount of time. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

She wouldn't...

Shaking off that intrusive thought, she went through her mental checklist. Her digital clock read was 8:49 AM when she finally crashed into her bed and fell asleep.

-----------------------

"Mio dio! What happened?!" Panthera groaned into her pillow as she was awakened by a loud cry. She tried to roll over onto her back but almost rolled off her bed if not for the strong pair of arms catching her.

"Jesus, gatita, what happened to you..." Panthera blinked blearily. The blurry picture of her worried and terrified boyfriend finally comes into sharp focus. Her sleepy brain took a few seconds to realize a few things.

One, Rio and Miles were in her bedroom.

Two, she was just in her bra and panties since the tired girl couldn't be bothered to put on actual clothes.

Three, all her bruises and wrapped torso were on full display, emphasized by the bright sunlight streaming through her window.

And four, one thing's for sure and two things for certain: the Morales family was known to the biggest worrywarts and busybodies concerning their loved ones. Which was both beneficial and almost headache-inducing. Miles is most definitely Rio's son, from the accent down to the mother hen nature when it comes to her.

This was not something Panthera wanted to deal with this Saturday morning.

"Uh... buenos días Rio y Mi... ¿cómo están?" Rio and Miles looked nowhere near amused at the girl's poor attempt at deflection. Rio turned to her son with a hard look in her eyes.

"Mijo, set her down on the bed so I can take a look at her and go into the kitchen and see what you can make for her to eat for lunch. I'll pack a bag when I'm finished so she can spend a few nights with us." Panthera was about to protest but decided against it when a pair of green and tawny eyes glared at her.

"Si mamá," Miles replied, kissing the girl's forehead before setting her back down on her bed. Panthera sighed as she was left alone with the nurse, who proceeded to check her over.

"Now. I'm going to ask once, and I expect the honest truth from you, Mija. What happened to you," Rio asked as she looked over the girl's bruises.

"I went for a walk last night, and these three guys tried to rob me. I fought back and knocked two of them out, but one of them woke up and shot at me before I could finish the leader. Using my moment of weakness, the leader tried to choke me out and threaten that he and his friends were gonna rape me..." Rio stared worriedly at the girl as she robotically told her tale.

"That didn't happen, though, because the Prowler came and saved me." Rio rose a brow at this. She was aware of the vigilante that roamed Brooklyn's nightlife. He was something of a Robin Hood figure, albeit a dangerous one. To think this shadowy figure helped the girl she considered as a daughter eased her a bit.

"And I'm assuming he had something to do with why your injuries are healing nicely," she asked lightheartedly. The bullet wound was thoroughly cleaned and nicely wrapped; her bruises didn't look so bad either. Though Rio wanted to keep a close eye on her futura nuera to ensure she healed properly.

"Uh, I don't think so. It seems the old Prowler is his mentor? He probably would have a better understanding of bullet wounds and stuff, so it wouldn't surprise me if he was the one that took care of me." Panthera wasn't too sure what to make of the duo. The Prowler was a name that was feared in Brooklyn. While the vigilante isn't known to harm civilians, like any other Brooklyn underworld figure, it was best to steer clear of him. But it's like the two vigilantes went out of their way to help her. While they were rather firm with her, it was clear that they cared for her well-being.

She could trust that if she were ever to see either of them, she'd be safe.

It was kinda of a word thought to have...

"Well, either way, I'm glad that they helped you when they did, Mija." Rio's voice broke the girl's train of thought. The mother looked satisfied with her check over, finally leaving the girl be so she could pack a bag for her.

"Here, wear this, querida. It's hot outside today after all," Rio said, handing the girl a sundress that she nearly forgot she owned.

The girl blushed. She never wore it because she would have to forgo the comfort of her trusty bras, seeing how it was backless. The material was a bit more on the sheer side. With just enough light, you could see the girl's silhouette underneath.

And considering she's wearing this around her boyfriend in front of his mother-

"You sure that's okay, Rio?" The older woman raised a brow before smirking.

"I was young once upon a time, querida. How did you think I caught my husband's attention, hm," Rio teased, laughing good-naturedly at the girl's growing blush.

"You're beautiful, Panthera. No need to be afraid or ashamed to show off to your boyfriend every once and awhile," Rio said with a wink. Panthera smiled shyly at her maternal figure before taking the dress from her and changing in her bathroom. The dress complimented her skin nicely and fitted her well (a little snug around the chest, but Panthera wasn't gonna complain about the support it gave her). She looked good, even with her bruises. The girl threw her locs in a messy bun with a few hanging around her face. Applying some of her vanilla and sandalwood perfume oil on key parts of her body, the girl felt ready to leave.

Panthera stepped out just in time to see mother and son chatting in Spanish on her bed.

"I'm ready." Miles looked up to greet his kitten, only to stare with a slacked jaw as she approached.

"Buen Dios y todos sus ángeles misericordiosos..." Rio chuckled at her son's reaction.

"De nada, hijo," she said with a smirk. Miles shook himself out of his lovesick stupor, realizing his mom was still very present. The boy stood up to meet his embarrassed girlfriend halfway, kissing her forehead before leading her to the bed.

"Here you go, pretty girl." Panthera took the plate of some leftover subs she had made a day ago, along with some chips and salsa. The girl smiled.

"Thank you, my love." With a kiss on his cheek, Miles watched as his girl snuggled next to him with a content smile. Despite the hell his precious girl had been through these few months, she was still smiling.

She was still here.

She was still here with him.

A small part felt guilty for putting her through half the grief and trauma she's experienced thus far in their relationship. He doesn't know how he'll be able to tell her the truth if she ever finds out that he was the reason behind their classmates' deaths. That his uncle helped to kill the principal for her unfair treatment towards her. That his mom now knows all this and was willing to keep quiet about all this (just as long he came to her for daily checkups after his patrols).

"No puedo decir que lo que estás haciendo sea moralmente correcto, Miles. Pero puedo decir que estás enamorado de esa chica. La has amado durante años. Ella te hace feliz, cariño... y eso es todo lo que quiero para ti. Haz lo que tengas que hacer para protegerla y preservarla, pero por favor no intentes matar a nadie más por celos. Eso es todo lo que te pido, hijo."

Despite his guilt, a larger part of Miles felt content. Panthera was his. He loved her. He loves her. And he would do everything in his power to keep her. No one is going to come and take her away from him.

Not even herself.

Even if she hated him for his morally questionable deeds, they'll have forever for her to learn how to love him again.

"I love you, mi vida," he whispered against her neck, curling around her in a hug. Miles could feel her blush creeping up her neck as her shoulder shook slightly in time with her chuckle.

"Te amo por siempre y para siempre, mi rey," she whispered back. Miles grinned as he nuzzled her further.

They were met to be. And nothing could change that...

...at least, that's what Miles thought.

-----------------------

Alright, y'all gonna have to give me some time to drop the next one, I'm tired. Imma add the translations later. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Dedicated to @444morales and @l0v3morales

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