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theoldsports · 1 year ago

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Mistake.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.2k words

SMUT 18+ ONLY | murder, manipulation, dubcon, mutually assured destruction, some bondage, gun violence. everything, really. danger!

The floor of Coriolanus and [Y/N]’s bedroom used to be hardwood. She would hear him on his way in when he worked late at the Citadel. The creaking floorboards typically snapped her out of sleep. Recently, Coriolanus decided on carpeting the room, full well knowing that he often woke up [Y/N] with his returns. If she stayed asleep, she asked less questions. The carpet was rich and purple. Tastefully purple, like a mauve. Coriolanus did not tolerate tacky like most ‘Capitol Phonies’ as [Y/N] called them when he would get agitated with couture, fashion and consumer trends.

When Coriolanus entered the room tonight, he was not concerned with waking his lover like usual. He was furious and he wanted attention. Coriolanus threw the door open with a bang. He came in like a shot. [Y/N] sat bolt up right in bed at the unexpected noise so late at night. She went from asleep to over alert. With practiced ease, she yanked open the bedside table’s white drawer and reached for the handgun Coriolanus had gotten her as an anniversary present. The wife of a young Senator couldn’t afford to take risks.

[Y/N] extended her arm, pointing the gun where her tired eyes spotted movement and undid the safety. She blinked once. Then twice. It was clear that it was Coriolanus, not a murderer. Not a murderer that would do her harm, anyway.

“Fuck!” Coriolanus said, raising his hands in surprise. “Darling, it’s me. Drop it!”

She would have known his footsteps if he hadn’t put in carpet.

“Coryo, good god. Don’t do that!” [Y/N] screamed. Instantly, she snapped the safety back on and dropped the gun back in the drawer. “I could have shot you! What time is it?”

“I—I don’t know! Late!” Coriolanus shouted and shrugged his jacket off. “Fuck!” [Y/N] watched his burgundy coat smack into the wall as he tossed it in frustration. Coriolanus didn’t usually get visibly angry. Instead, he got cold. There was door slamming sometimes to end an argument, maybe dirty possessive sex, but normally, he became calculating vile to be around instead of petulantly rage-filled.

Today must have been a bad day.

He almost got shot to top it off.

“I’m sorry,” [Y/N] said like she was attempting to defuse a bomb. She had only had to speak to him like that once or twice in her years of knowing him. Normally, Coriolanus found that tone condescending. “Coryo, come here.”

Coriolanus made no mind of her words. He continued to pull off his clothes a layer at a time clumsily. He pulled at his hair, he groaned sounds of anguish barely below a holler, he even threw one of his beautifully polished shoes across the room. Real, adult male rage. The kind you stayed away from.

“Coriolanus Snow, you’re going to hurt yourself!” [Y/N] shouted. “You’re gonna… hurt me, or break something. What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] said cautiously while she climbed out of bed in her nearly transparent red nightie.

Coriolanus breathed heavily. He was trying to sooth his anger. He knew this behavior, this blackout rage, was unbecoming. His eyes focused on [Y/N]’s, and then [Y/N]’s throat, then [Y/N]’s dress, and what was visible under [Y/N]’s dress. His breathing slowed a bit and he pushed his loose curls out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You still with me?” [Y/N] asked, stepping into where he stood. “Coryo, look at me,” [Y/N] commanded. She reached out with a hand as if Coriolanus was a wild animal that might bite her and slowly placed it on the side of his cheek. Gently, she guided him to look down at her. He stared down at her almost expressionlessly. [Y/N] reached up with her free hand to tucked Coriolanus’s long hair out of his face. “What happened? The truth, preferably.”

“Where… Where’d you get that nightgown?” Coriolanus deflected.

“Bought it last week.”

“It’s very striking on you. You aren’t cold in that thing?”

[Y/N] shook her head and dropped her hand from Coriolanus’ face. She thought her window for some sort of talk about why he had behaved like that had latched closed. “No.” She sighed. [Y/N] spent another moment examining Coriolanus with her eyes to make sure that he wasn’t hurt or completely falling to pieces standing before her in merely his crisp black pinstriped trousers and belt. Once she felt her once over was sufficient, she turned to walk back to the bed to lay down.

“I… I lied to someone when I should have told them the truth,” Coriolanus started as [Y/N] climbed back under the pristine white covers on their bed. “It was a miscalculation and I suspect it’s going to take… work to… eradicate the rest of problem entirely.”

He was incapable of saying ‘I made a mistake and my actions have consequences’ like a normal person. All the same, relinquishing that information cost him a lot emotionally. He didn’t share burdens. Coriolanus didn’t share anything.

“This was another Senator?”

“It involves another Senator, yes,” he said. “It’s inconvenient.”

“Fix it,” she said. There was no more advice to be offered on the subject without argument and she knew that Coriolanus would fix it, by whatever means necessary. [Y/N] patted the bed beside her again. “Come to bed.”

Coriolanus climbed into bed stiffly and laid beside [Y/N]. He settled for laying in an uncomfortable, temporary position because he did not expect to fall asleep in his pressed slacks. She wrapped an arm around him and yanked him on top of her, forcing his head to rest on her chest. Coriolanus liked it when [Y/N] let him use her like a pillow. [Y/N]’s heart went so fast when he was near like that. Coriolanus wondered if it was because she was afraid of him. He smiled.

“Did you get this nightgown for me?” Coriolanus asked. He traced the sheer fabric around one of [Y/N] nipples and watched the bud become stiffer with every rotation. He did that to her, not some no-talent, inexperienced Senator who probably couldn’t keep his own dick hard.

[Y/N] scoffed with her bottom lip captured between her straight teeth. “Who else?” She said plainly.

“You got all dressed up in this and I didn’t even get home on time, huh?” He said, sounding almost disappointed. Coriolanus’ finger slid under the strap of the dress and snapped it against her skin.

“There’s always tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t live with you,” [Y/N] chanced sliding her fingers into his hair. Coriolanus often hated when she touched his overly manicured hair, but [Y/N] knew he found it soothing in a moment of private vulnerability. She knew he liked the attention. [Y/N] tangled her fingers in his white blonde hair, combing out the product he had put in it that morning to hold it in place. Coriolanus let her. “You’re so tense. Relax.” [Y/N] said.

“Can’t. Go back to sleep, Darling. I might go for a run, think.”

“…You could discuss your miscalculation.”

Coriolanus was silent. That was a no without saying no. [Y/N] tugged his hair carefully in frustration. “Please stay here with me. If you go out, I’ll be all nerves til you’re properly back with me,” She said. “Stay. I’m awake now… Blow off some steam. The adrenaline of pointing a gun at my husband’s going to keep me awake for a while too.”

“I never should have bought you that,” Coriolanus said firmly, but maintained a smirk. “If I stayed with you all day, you would have no reason for needing the gun. You wouldn’t ever have to wear clothes either. Well, what you’re wearing now is hardly clothes to begin with.”

“I’m sorry. About the gun, not the nightgown,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus stole kisses across parts of her exposed and covered chest. Eventually his mouth came to rest over her clothed left nipple, with his teeth giving it a gentle tug. “Coryo…” [Y/N] whimpered.

“You want me to relax, here’s me,” Coriolanus leaned up and kissed [Y/N]’s lips. “Relaxing.” He smirked.

[Y/N] genuinely never did know if Coriolanus was out-of-his-mind obsessed with her, or if he told her what she wanted to hear because that kind of talk made Coriolanus feel better about himself in a roundabout way. Either way, she got something out of it, so complaining at this stage felt unimportant.

Sustaining two deluded minds in a relationship meant both parties had to consistently 1) lie, 2) obsess over minutia, 3) fuck.

See, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t just fucking either. The pair could not love. Something had happened to each of them that made real romantic or intimate compatibility impossible. Their intentions for the other weren’t selfless, but they mutually let other believe they were.

They were perfect together.

They had unified strength, a need for control and that beloved little thing that made them work: obsession; fundamentally. To hear one of them talk manically about the other, was to see the face of God. To each of them, the other was the only person who had ever kept them from getting bored, so they made it work. It was the endless chase that kept them going. That, and a constant need to outdo the other. Daily, they engaged in a delicate pantomime of intimacy and all their world was the stage.

“Did you hurt someone, honey?” [Y/N] moaned as Coriolanus kissed her, bucking her hips up. “You only act like this when you’ve hurt someone. Y-you, oh fuck, you know I don’t care.” She said.

“Cut it out.” He snapped.

“Who.”

“How many times before have I told you not to ask?” Coriolanus said, pulling his lips away from her chest and instead leaned back to bury two fingers inside her wetness to affirm his point. He had already noticed she hadn’t been wearing panties under the translucent nightie, so it was easy.

[Y/N] inhaled sharply at the abrupt stretching sensation and shut her eyes. “I wasn’t asking, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus stretched her further, eliciting an explicit moan from [Y/N]. She clawed at the fabric of the only stitches he had left: his trousers.

Through gritted teeth, Coriolanus choked out “Festus Creed.”

“Festus?” [Y/N] said as she sat up on her elbows. They had known him since they were children. Coriolanus didn’t stop fucking her brutally with his hand. “Coryo… You didn’t.”

“He said something he shouldn’t have and he took his coffee too sweet to notice before it was too late. The only worry is if someone saw. Eyes everywhere. It was too public.” Coriolanus grunted. He felt himself getting hard from watching his wife fuck herself on his long fingers whilst he confessed to killing a childhood companion.

[Y/N] knew it was in poor taste to feel so good from hearing something so awful. She did not care because who was going to judge her in the privacy of her own home? She let out her most wanton moan yet when Coriolanus pressed in a third finger. He knew had an advantage in the conversation considering their current position. Coriolanus knew exactly what she wanted and that he was not going to get her to cum just from the penetration of his fingers. Effortlessly, he slid his thumb over her clit and rubbed it quickly. “W-why…” [Y/N] tried her best to sound coherent.

“He wanted something that wasn’t his.” Coriolanus muttered, leaning his mouth into [Y/N]’s bare neck.

This could have meant Festus had coveted her, or that he had coveted the presidency. Whatever it was, Coriolanus didn’t like his foods to touch and took care of the problem. [Y/N] let herself believe that out of the possible options, it was her that had gotten in the way of the two men’s relationship. It made her grin an unfortunate grin.

“Coriolanus, you sh-shouldn’t have d-done that,” [Y/N] said. Her thighs were practically shaking. “That was a mistake.” She tried. It was a mistake. Logically, she knew that. [Y/N]’s quivering hands unbuckled his belt. Carefully, she slid the fine black leather through the metal fixings and soft fabric loops. It stayed clutched in her hand.

“What was a mistake?” Coriolanus asked coyly. “This?” His hand slid out of her, making [Y/N] yelp at its absence.

At least [Y/N] was able to think clearer without his hand in her folds. [Y/N] clutched the belt in her hands tighter. “Fuck you.” [Y/N] said. She sat up further causing Coriolanus to lean back further. Her temper flared. She hated how much Coriolanus liked it when she got angry. Of course none of her feelings were really her own with out Coriolanus’ desire and interests. Her temper escalated until she could feel a full throbbing in her left armpit and side. [Y/N] also hated how aroused she still felt. Her friend was dead, after all. She sent a silent prayer to Festus, wherever he ended up.

[Y/N] knew this desire she had was going to be a challenge, but she wanted to punish Coriolanus carnally. Everything was too easy for him as it was.

When Coriolanus sat up against the fluffy pillows and the metal headboard, [Y/N] wasted no time climbing into his lap. She stared seriously into his blue eyes for a moment and leaned into his ear. “I’m extremely disappointed in you.” She said.

Nervousness coursed through her veins. Coriolanus was going to be very upset with her. She grasped Coriolanus’ left wrist in the same hand that held his belt. In one fluid motion, [Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ other wrist and clutched them over his head. She pressed his wrists together and linked them with the belt. Before she locked the belt on itself, she pushed his beautiful pale hands against the metallic headboard she was so familiar with chained to herself and cinched the belt closed fast enough to rash up Coriolanus’ delicate wrists.

Coriolanus looked at her in stunned shock. He tried to pull against the belt once.

Twice.

Three times.

It jerked the metal bedframe with a crack.

“What the fuck is this?” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth.

“Punishment. You… I… I said I was extremely disappointed in you. You created a significant amount of unnecessary stress because… Because what? A man I’ve known since I was twelve wanted to share your toys? Is that it?”

The crease between Coriolanus’ eyebrows deepened and his eyes. [Y/N] popped the button on Coriolanus’ pants.

“Now, I’m gonna get some pleasure out of you if it kills me. For my sake, not yours.” [Y/N] said. She shimmied Coriolanus’ pants and boxers down to his knees. Coriolanus wasn’t making this movement easy for her with his wriggling.

“[Y/N], get me out of this. Now!” Coriolanus commanded. At the noise, she grabbed his cock and circled her thumb around its head a few times. He was a leaking mess; he liked this more than he implied. Coriolanus let out a whimper, whether from pleasure or being emasculated. Either would do.

“No.” [Y/N] said softly. She released his cock and climbed properly back onto his lap and slowly sank all the way down on his painfully hard cock. Coriolanus was tall and broad so it was never a surprise to [Y/N] that he was so big. She herself moaned at the familiar stretch of taking him in all the way. [Y/N] rolled her hips to compensate as she settled. [Y/N] chose not think about the consequences for what she was doing. She thought about Coriolanus instead. She glanced down at Coriolanus. Of course he looked frustratingly gorgeous. He always did. His hair looked extremely tousled and his eyes were truculent. His jaw clenched in a grimace of some passionate emotion.

[Y/N] had never seen Coriolanus below her like this. She liked it.

Coriolanus thrusted his hips up, but [Y/N] sat still, not dignifying his need with a response. “No, this is an apology. This is for me now, not you.”

“[Y/N], please—“

Begging so soon?

[Y/N] fucked herself on his cock sharply. Repeatedly, she lifted herself high and slammed herself back down his length. She had no idea sex felt so good in this position.

“Coryo, I want an apology for whatever this is. You should be ashamed of what you’ve done. Are you?”

Silence. He looked away from her.

“I asked you a question.” [Y/N] whispered when she leaned in to bite Coriolanus’ earlobe.

“No.” He said. [Y/N] leaned back and struck him with her open palm. She smiled to herself as she did so, thinking of the night of their engagement party. How striking his pale face always looked with the contrast of a stiff red mark on it.

“[Y/N]!” Coriolanus shouted at the stinging sensation, pulling at his restraints. Coriolanus hated not feeling in control. He wanted to hold [Y/N], to squeeze her, to devour her alive.

[Y/N] leaned to clutch his bound forearms, bouncing up and down sickeningly fast. “You’re not ashamed? Guilty? You think this is deserved, this cruelty?” He didn’t have to answer for [Y/N] to know he didn’t feel ashamed. Coriolanus couldn’t feel shame quite like that, only self pity. He let out another moan at her words. [Y/N] clawed her nails down his biceps on a journey to his abdomen. “Coryo, apologize to me.” She purred.

“I…” Coriolanus started to apologize, but [Y/N] began sucking brutal hickeys on his neck first, then collarbones. He could barely string a sentence together at the sensation. By the time he had four blossoming bruises on the marble column of his throat, he was writhing beneath [Y/N]. He was getting frustrated. Every time he tried to buck his hips naturally (or desperately) into hers, she refused to move or acknowledge until he stopped.

“Fine! I’m sorry!” He spat, barely conscious of his words.

“For what?”

“F-Festus.” He said quietly.

“What was that, honey?” She teased, twisting one of his nipples.

“Please don’t make me talk about another man when I’m fucking you…” Coriolanus whimpered. “Undo the belt, Darling, we can—“

“Too late. What are you sorry for?” She said, rolling her hips into his. “Tell me you’re sorry or there’s no chance I let you finish.”

“Festus!”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry about Festus. It was a mistake. PLEASE! Let me fucking cum!”

He wasn’t sorry at all. While he came into his wife, all Coriolanus could think about was how awfully good it felt to kill someone if it meant his wife would be on him like this.

—

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow

sorry if tags didn’t work! i tried!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus snow smut

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jinxs-gf · 4 months ago

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The Human Spider

The Team x Spider!Reader

summary: you are this universe’s one and only spider-person.

warnings/content: set before the 1st episode of young justice s1, a few marvel references, this whole thing is from the perspective of the reader who’s basically Spider-Man so the writing is a bit silly…but I like it

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is essentially an introduction to this world, I’m really hoping I can pop a couple fics within this little universe 😭🙏🏽 if not then…I’m sorry LMAO. only time will tell. ENJOY!!!

Life was good.

I mean, how could it not be? You got to fight side by side with some of Earth's greatest heroes. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash...oh and Black Canary and—

Yeah. It was great. Not to mention how incredibly easy it was for you to defeat the bad guys you'd fought. You definitely didn't have four near death experiences because of them!

Well you did, but they were completely your fault and not at the hands of a couple of phony villains. They happened before you got used to your powers and gone through extensive training.

It seemed like a curse at first, but now you take them with stride. Your super strength foreign as you'd broke nearly everything in your apartment (that hadn't been a fun thing to explain to your Aunt and Uncle when they came home to a trashed place). Sticky hands well...getting stuck to literally everything. The amount of money you spent replacing your clothes after accidentally ripping up your whole closet only trying to get ready for school...that was also not fun explaining to your guardians.

And the webs. Oh boy. You didn't want to think about it. The hole in your wrist that shot out webs like a proper spider freaked you out the most. You nearly turned yourself in to the government after that one. It was something that took the most mental work to control, the weird hole (yuck) closing up when you didn't need it.

The one thing you did appreciate immediately was the abs. Yeah, those were nice to wake up to one morning.

Today was just another day in your life. A simple mission happening in the middle of the city. Actually it was a pretty unusual mission, it wasn't the regular Ice Family or Joker cult you were fighting...but a Rhino. Seemingly a man in a Rhino cosplay. And his henchmen? Definitely not something you see everyday, but you have seen weirder.

Speaking of his henchmen...there was a lot of them. Enough to keep each member of the team occupied. They had insanely advanced weaponry, surprisingly keeping the fight going for a while.

You hadn't realized so many of the guys were on you now, all surrounding you and trying to shoot at you with guns that weren't spitting out regular bullets.

You look to your side and see your best friend (he doesn't think so but that's what you tell everyone so deal with it sucker). Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, Roy Harper under the mask, and Pain in the Ass (a nickname you'd affectionately given him) to you.

You were in a compromising position, one that you could easily get yourself out of. But now you've spotted an unoccupied Roy and you wanted to have a little fun admist the chaos.

"Hey pain in my ass! A little help here!" The men were now taking shots with their fists, all failing to land their hits of course. And your best friend had completely ignored you.

"Hellooooo you know I'm talking to you!"

"I told you I wouldn't answer when you called me that. And I thought I made myself very clear." Definitely referring to the embarrassing way he took you down in front of the team after harassing him all week with the nickname a month ago.

"Well you answered right now soo...."

An arrow suddenly flew right past you, nearly grazing your cheek. A couple more followed.

"Um hello?! You nearly took me out!"

"That's my way of saying cut it out while saving your ass. And don't your spidey senses detect that kind of stuff? Danger and threats? You should've seen them coming."

"Huh. Guess you aren't as threatening as you think you are. At least not with that silly little hat on."

He simply glared at you. He was definitely going to kick your ass later. (Again).

With your guys dealt with, you turned to watch as Flash and Kid Flash emptied out a school bus on the road. Well, watched was a strong word. The job was done before you could fully process what was happening.

And suddenly that same school bus was being throw your way by the Rhino-man. Directly above your head actually.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

This was the third time that's happened to you this week!

He had good aim, you'll admit. It landed on you perfectly, but thanks to your incredible strength he seemingly didn't know about (how could he not? You're literally the Spider-Person from tv! Spider-Person...pfft what a stupid name. No one seemed to come up with something better), the biggest indicator to this being his shocked face. Oh how you loved that look. You threw it right back at him. Jokes on Rhino-man, you also had incredible aim.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a school bus to take me out!" Although you could feel the nearly broken rib and bruises you'd need to get checked out before you went home today.

You sighed happily, dusting your hands, "light work to me. Maybe try one of those city buses next time? Might be heavier and more effective-"

The words barely left your mouth before a city bus was being throw at you, "Wait I didn't actually mean it!" You caught the bus this time. And although your senses knew the danger was coming, it was still a bus that caught you off guard with its weight. Your legs and arms quivered at the force of having to hold it up, you could feel every bruise spotted on your body with the strain and it was not fun. While your body healed faster than the average human, it definitely wasn't fast enough to recover from the previous hit.

The back of the bus was fully tipped to the sky. You prayed there was no one in this thing. And sure you were strong, but there was no way you could tip it back on its wheels without potentially hurting someone.

Luckily Superman helped you with that, seeing you struggle. He easily took it off your hands (show off) and maneuvered it so it was placed safely back on the road.

"Thanks Supes!" He gave a nod and his famous smile.

It was only a couple more minutes of fighting and cars being thrown around before the whole thing was wrapped up. The adults would give their words to the police and news reporters, blah blah blah...

While they did that, you and your best friends, the teens (the cooler ones) got together like you always did after a mission.

Superman is being interviewed by the infamous Lois Lane (the talk of the teen team, there was definitely tension there).

All while Wally stands a little behind them making faces and ridiculous poses for the camera. The rest of you stood out of shot either cackling or rolling your eyes.

Wally steps back, clearly offended. "What? All he's doing is flirting with her in front of a live audience. Remember what they said last time? No one's gonna be paying attention to me."

Robin snickers, "What? The whole 'no one can take Superman' 'but you sure can'?" He repeats their words in poorly done impressions.

"That was totally an innuendo!"

"Very mature KF."

"Hey! Robin and Spider laughed with me. And I saw Speedy’s smirk, he sat there trying to pretend he didn't find it funny. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass, Aqualad?"

Roy, completely serious, replies, "Now that's no way to talk to the adults' favorite."

You perk up, "oh, me?"

Your friends immediately explode into disagreement, apparently in disbelief you'd think such a thing.

It was a simple story, how it all came to be. You got bit by a spider (totally cool about it).

Totally didn't scream your ass off because of it and stay paranoid the rest of the day, constantly thinking there was a creepy crawler on you...no. You found out the next day that you weren't actually paranoid—if you were in the first place, which you were not! Because apparently the spider had camped out in your clothes all day and night...

You totally didn't scream your ass off again that morning at the revelation.

You did scream at the sight of abs on your body that same morning though. And that's the only reason you'll ever thank the spider, forget the cool powers.

After that you thought it would be cool to use your powers for good, inspired by your uncle. You decided to have your own cool hero costume, symbol, and name (which you still haven't gotten. You originally thought of the Human Spider. People on the streets called it dumb, claiming they would not be calling you that). You had (unfortunately) been (TEMPORARILY!) named the Spider-Person. Which was insanely stupid and you needed to come up with something quick before it stuck completely. Maybe the Human Spider wasn't so good but it wasn't as bad as your unofficial name now!

Anyways, as for the cool hero costume. You had to use what you had at the time, which was...your normal clothes. Getting a costume online seemed cheap, and dressing up as an existing character in the media and saving people seemed wrong. It would only deny your identity as a hero. So you put on whatever clothes (mostly colorful pajamas) that you had, covered the bottom half of your face with a bandanna, and called it a night. And boy did that get you a lot of ridicule, but you got the job done, right? The only thing it didn't do was protect your body from scrapes and...stab wounds. You hated little knives.

You're not the smartest in the world and it's not like you had the money someone like Bruce Wayne could pull out of their ass and make cool superhero wear.

Once you were recruited by Batman, he gave you your own hero costume—no, suit. Every suggestion you made was followed. It was perfect. The mask had to be your favorite part though. Something you didn't suggest was the some type of magic on it, something called hammerspace. Basically you could have any type of hair, or ears...probably even a pair of headphones on your head and it won't show through. It'll seemingly disappear to this hammerspace (you weren't sure how it worked exactly, but it works nonetheless so you won't question it). The magic was done by a team member who was needed very rarely named Zatara. Another man with a silly hat on his head.

You attempted to try it with Batman to see if his bat ears would disappear (which was completely encouraged by Robin by the way. No- completely his idea!) He was not happy. (You got benched for a month...no patrols, no missions...and Robin got off scott-free! How was that fair?!)

Wally starts to bring up your part of the fight, specifically the bus incident.

"Hey isn't that the third time that's happened to you this week?"

You sigh, exasperated and playing it up, "yes."

Robin butts in before you could say anything more, "Couldn't you have caught them? Y'know with your spidey senses and incredible strength?" He has the nastiest smirk on his face. His smartass totally figured you out.

"Well yeah, duh. But it's fun seeing the looks on the bad guys' faces when they realize I'm not dead and I can carry a however many pound bus! Is that so bad?"

"No but it's embarrassing for us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, our best friend who's powers include crazy senses that gives them insane reflexes? That best friend can't catch a big, yellow bus being thrown at them? Embarrassing." The one time Roy will take the claim as your best friend is when he's insulting you? Unsurprising.

Kaldur cut in, sensing your defense a mile away, "It is pretty shameful of you."

Your jaw dropped, even Kaldur of all of people was agreeing? Oh this is insane!

You point a figure at your friends, trying to get your threat across, "Well I find that incredibly offensive and you should all take that back before I-"

"Isn't the point of your powers to detect danger before it comes? How come that's the third time this week you've been hit by a school bus? It's embarrassing, Spider." Batman's monotone voice made his words all the more insulting. Your frown deepened.

You sigh, "Yup. Real embarrassing for me. I got that."

"No, embarrassing for me. I've got a reputation to keep up."

He walks away without another word.

"I can't tell if he was trying to joke around like you guys were, but I'm still offended."

"He was being dead serious. And for the record, so were we."

I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic. I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??

#young justice x reader #spider & the team #robin x reader #kid flash x reader #aqualad x reader #red arrow x reader #roy harper x reader #wally west x reader #young justice fanfiction #dc fanfic #I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic #I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??#hello

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celestie0 · 7 months ago

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childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he'll call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

#sorry idk why tf this got sad all of a sudden #this was just supposed to be fluffy #lfmaooo??#help #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen #so heavily inspired by many ts songs w this one loool

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hot-astrology · 11 months ago

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The Aqaurius Mind: Pluto in Aquarius, Age of Aqaurius, and 2024

The recent events surrounding Katt Williams have stirred my interest, though this event barely scratches the surface of the cosmic workings. The year 2024 portends a great unraveling, as deciphered through its numerology (8) : the influence of Pluto looms over this year, with its placement in Aquarius.

This year's fixed energies signal transformation (Aquarius and Scorpio) and raw power (Taurus and Leo), with Uranus and Jupiter in Taurus and Pluto in Aquarius. The impact of the fixed signs will be significant and profound.

Saturn's presence in Pisces heralds a great awakening. ;I am reminded of my own natal Saturn in the 12th house, which imbues this area of spirituality with discipline and authenticity.Saturn brings discipline and realness to this area of spirituality. And this is what we will see happening for those who are already tapped in. For those who are not this is another great chance similar to 2020 to awaken.

Turning to Vedic astrology, Saturn is positioned in Aquarius this year. In 2020, this was such a huge alignment the only difference is there won't be a great conjunction. But I could see similar potency already. With certain things being spoken about, and if you haven't heard. It's because the government (Saturn) is trying to hide (pisces) a lot of this information away from society. We are fully in the age of aquarius, and things will only continue to get exposed. And no matter how much certain authorities try to hide or stop it. It won't stop until the FULL truth is revealed. No matter how many people are killed, and etc. More and more will keep popping up until the mission is done.

Now switching to tarot, because this is how I connect a lot of my dots. The 21st card (The world card); This card consists of a lion (leo), an eagle (scorpio), a human (Aqaurius), and a bull (Taurus) We see all of these energies being pulled towards us. The world card is the very last card in the tarot deck and represents completion. Now, I would like to turn this over to venuz because he knows more about the cycles and years and stuff. But, I do, I want to also talk about the 10th card in tarot. This is the wheel of fortune. This card signifies karma, destiny, and fate. The cycle of life. This card also resembles the world card but not in a way where things are ending. It shows how life goes on & on. This card also has The Lion, The Bull, The Human, and The Eagle. The four corners of the world/ The angels of the four directions. We see how that number 4 is so significant. These are cycles, and fixed is the last stage. Beyonce was right, America really does have a problem...... The Seal has been broken. ☺ Now, to you venuz.

Cycles......Yes, cycles! Everything evolves in cycles and changes, it's only so long you can stay in the same scenario or comfort zone without chaos knocking at your door. Aquarius is all about change and revolutionizing its surroundings and its people. This energy is at its boiling point. Every 20 years there's a recurrent cycle of same-aged groups with specific behaviors that change. So, if you add 3 more cycles to that it will be a 4 cycle switch, which every generation would affect the other. When the 80-year mark comes around it is a crucial period. Everything is done in cycles, it doesn't matter what it is. Saturn in Pisces will materialize everything you think of, or focus on. This will also bring about what you have been hiding, and not speaking. Thoughts of your subconscious will be brought to the surface, and some will have to face those fears. For Example, Katt Williams has known all of these lies, secrets, backstabbing, cheating, phony, and false allegations, so it's being materialized. All his thoughts, dreams, and deep-rooted issues about other comedians came out to the forefront without any care. As he spoke and exposed their behaviors in front of millions (mass 11th house) and demanded a change (pluto). This calls on the energy of Pluto in Aquarius.

Pluto in Aquarius loves erratic behavior and unexpected scenarios. Pluto comes with a punch and is at full throttle here. Many people are outspoken now and about change and freedom. Aquarius is all revolutionary and Pluto is a generational planet so change is bound to come. This is just the beginning of this world being destroyed and reconstructed into a new and profound system that isn't in line with these new powerful souls. This makes an 80-year period. 10 more years from now will make 90 years which is energy 9 which will be the completion of a major cycle. 8 is just the transformation period and reconstructing period, everything and everyone who wasn't living in their own essence and misusing their fortune, fame and financial abundance in a non conducive manner will reverse roles and be exposed for their inequality.

Like gorgeous Moon Devi said they're trying to hide what they're up to but Saturn in Pisces is revealing everything they have been hiding. So everyone wakes up to all those lies, takes off the rose-colored glasses, no more fantasy land, and is in a delusional state of mind. Pluto in Aquarius will allow everyone to have a voice and speak up, change what's not right, and stand for something even if you never did your whole life. If you were born in this era or if you were born to still be alive in this era get ready for the showdown. If watched in Living Color, this movie promises to be a captivating experience, delivering the answers to long-standing questions and revealing hidden truths. It has the potential to evoke personal fears, making them tangible and forcing introspection. It's a crucial time for everyone, not just celebrities or elites, to focus on self-healing, purification of the soul, and actualizing personal aspirations. Astrologically, the influence of Aquarius, which rules the 11th house of hopes and aspirations, and Pluto provides the necessary impetus to transform negative situations into positive ones, for oneself and the greater good.

However you envision your world to be, you will get the results in this transit. Imagine yourself as a kid at the art table, and you have a box of crayons, an blank piece of paper. The teacher tells you to draw your new world. How would you create it? Would it consist of peace, prosperity, and love? Then she says," Stand up in front of the class, and explain what your world looks like." You say it out loud in front of the class with conviction and power. Then you close your eyes and watch it manifest right before you, VOILA!!!

From two aqaurius/uranus dominant spirits, ~ Prinz Venuz & Moon Devi

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔: 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐳 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢

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barrackspredator · 4 months ago

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patrick hockstetter x naive fem reader? 😋

this has been in my inbow for about a year. TW: Patrick, mocking religion, Patrick gets his own second warning

The Pastor's Daughter

Patick x Fem!Reader Patrick Hockstter is God.

In his own head, of course.

However, before he is a part-time self-proclaimed god, he is also the son of Patricia "Trisha" Hockstetter, Derry's most devout Baptist.

And while he could usually get away with skipping out on Sunday mass, this one was different. A new pastor was being brought into the church as the last pastor had gone to the pearly gates, and Trisha, eager to push her son closer to God, forced him to go with her.

After a long morning of arguing, Patrick was forced into his Sunday best, booted into the car, and forced to follow his grinning mother down the aisle. Aside from the laughable idea of there being other gods, Patrick's least favorite part about church was entering to take a seat. The judgmental stares, the hushed whispers, the blearing white. It was enough to drive him insane. He idly gazed through the crowd of phony-worshippers, grinning pridefully whenever somebody would look his way in stunned horror—which was often.

Finally stopping at the second pew, his mother ushered him in, a beaming smile on her face despite the mischievous glint in her eyes. Patrick noted this, quirking his eyebrow at her.

"What?" he mouthed as he sat down, partially sitting on something. "Nothing," she whispered, unable to hide her smile.

"Excuse me?" A quiet voice whispered from beside Patrick. "I don't mean to bother you, sir, but you're sitting on my purse."

Patrick rolled his eyes, turning in annoyance. "Then yank it." He paused, staring at the girl before him. Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't realize... I thought you were a sir." You sheepishly laughed at your mistake, assuming Patrick was an older man. He stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he dissected every inch of you. Your eyes, your smile, your hair—the imaginary halo that glowed above your head.

"I am a sir," he growled, thinking you thought he was a girl.

"O-Oh? Really? Wow, you look so young!" You smiled wide, amazed by how young this "sir" looked.

"... Uh, yeah. I'm fucking 15, idiot." Patrick felt a sharp jab in his ribs, making him double over. He glared at his mom, who sneered at him until he turned back to face the girl. "My bad," he grumbled. The look of shock on your face was enough to make him smirk in amusement. Perhaps the most amused he'd ever felt in church.

"It's okay," you whispered. Your eyes were downcast as you tried to hold back a giggle. "You are very funny, uh... what is your name? Perhaps calling you sir would be weird as we are the same age." You looked back up into Patrick's eyes.

"Patrick." Another jab. "Hockstetter!" He glanced back at his mother, deeply annoyed with her antics. "Patrick Hockstter," he breathed out, placing his hand over his aching ribs.

You giggled politely, covering your mouth as you did. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Patrick. I'm-"

"The pastor's daughter, right?" Mrs. Hockstetter interjected, taking you by surprise. You hesitated a few seconds before nodding your head. Patrick slowly turned his head to look at his mother as her plan clicked in his head. Did she really think the pastor's daughter would be a good influence on him? The thought was laughable. But this god had his own plan—to humor his mother. To get even.

He turned back to you with a charming smile. Well, as charming as he could pull off. "It's lovely to meet you," he said, taking your hand in his and gently pressing a kiss on your knuckle, enjoying how your eyes shot open. Church was suddenly starting to feel very entertaining for this god.

But of course, your father had to ruin the fun when he came out to begin his sermon and the choir started. You hesitated to pull your hand away, your eyes lingering on his until he turned away. Patrick only pulled away to hide his smirk, though. He didn't give a shit about the sermon, or the choir, or whatever the fuck his future father-in-law was spewing.

For that full hour, he sat there plotting. Every move of his had to be calculated, and they were. Glances here and there, brushing his hand against yours, gently thumbing your skin whenever it was time to join hands. And from every move blossomed a new splotch of red on your cheeks, which appeased him greatly. Even his mother looked pleased, and it took Patrick every bone in his body to not laugh at her failure of a plan. Oh, how he was going to make her look like such a fool!

By the end of mass, Patrick had you wrapped around his twisted, kind of fucked up, burnt finger. And with this newfound power, he got himself a date with the pastor's daughter at the junkyard.

To his mother's surprise, Patrick left mass with a big goofy smile on his face, giddy as he thought of the fridge he was going to show you on Friday night.

#bowers gang #it 2017 #patrick hockstetter #it2017 #asks open #it #patrick hocksetter x reader #fem reader #it x reader #naive!reader #i suck at writing #sigh #anyway #deal with it <3

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babydaddyleorio · 4 months ago

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seamless phantom

01. Chrollo

Chrollo sat on the couch, his head thrown back over the edge and throat on full display. His eyes were closed, and his legs were spread wide. Tonight, he dressed in loose black slacks with his tie undone around his button-down. His fingers danced in the air as if he were conducting a concerto as he listened to the classical music playing from the radio on top of the stool in the corner.

“How’s that file coming, Shal?” Chrollo suddenly asked. The blonde on the other side of the room pauses his typing at his boss’ sudden voice before leaning his head back in his chair.

“Almost ready!” Shalnark called in his usual chirpy voice.

Chrollo hummed in response, going back to his music. Shalnark waited, whispering “c’mon” repeatedly under his breath impatiently for the loading bar on the screen to finish. Finally, a popup appeared that said complete.

“Boss, it’s done.”

Chrollo slowly opened his eyes, his gaze focused on the ceiling as gravity made his hair hang behind him. He slowly sat up straight, stretching his limbs as he rose from the loveseat’s cushions. He walked towards Shalnark, sticking one hand in his pocket as the other rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the tension built there.

“What did you find?” He asked as he came behind Shalnark, leaning his head down with excited eyes to see the computer screen. Shalnark started typing rapidly before a profile popped up.

“Let’s see, her file says that she got in this morning and is currently staying at the Hunter's hotel. She has a party scheduled in a few hours that she’s hosting ⎯ It’s to celebrate the launch of her latest fashion line.”

“Think I can make it?” Chrollo asked while briefly glancing at him, and Shalnark tapped his chin while trailing his eyes to the side.

“Well, it is on the other side of town, plus it’s a fancy event meaning you’d have to dress appropriately, and there's bound to be a lot of people there since she’s pretty popular. So in conclusion, I’d say it’s possible, you might have to break the speed limit though.”

“I believe I can manage that.” Chrollo nodded with a smirk, lazily stretching his arms in front of him as he clasped his hands together.

“I also should mention that it’s invite only, so you may have to steal someone’s identity to get in.”

Chrollo yawned in disinterest. “Can you print me an ID real fast for a guest?”

Shalnark nodded. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

Chrollo was always fascinated with Shalnark’s skills. And he watched with humorous eyes at how easy it was to get his hands on an ID that did not belong to him.

“Alright, here you go.” Shalnark handed him the plastic card and Chrollo thanked him.

“Well, I’ll be on my way,” Chrollo said, saluting as he walked out of the motel room he was in.

“Good luck!” Shalnark shouted as Chrollo left, but he didn’t need to wish it because Chrollo always got what he wanted, and he currently had his eyes set on you.

⎯ 🕸

Shalnark was right about there being a lot of people here tonight.

Chrollo whistled under his breath as he made his way into the hotel’s foyer. The guests all looked to be pretentious snobs showcasing phony smiles. Chrollo humorously upturned his lips to fit into the crowd around him. What Shalnark forgot to mention was that it was a masquerade party that was being hosted tonight. Chrollo's eyes were covered in a black, studded design and his hand twirled the stick it was attached to between his fingertips.

“Vincent Yoshino.” Chrollo read the fake name on the ID out loud, raising his eyebrow in consideration with a head tilt. “Has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”

He walked further into the building, taking note of how the people were mingling. He checked his watch, 5 more minutes until the party began. He could take this opportunity to quickly scope out the layout of the first floor, maybe he’d go right now while he still had time to spare. As Chrollo reasoned with his thoughts, he was unaware of the Louboutins that were marching in his direction.

“Hello, handsome.”

Chrollo paused, glancing beside him to see a tall woman. She had tanned skin, a flawless bob, and blinding crimson lipstick. The dress she wore was nice as well, hugging her figure as she walked closer to Chrollo.

“Good evening.” Chrollo politely responded, nodding his head with a grin.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” She drawled, giving him a once over with a smirk. “Would’ve remembered a catch such as you.”

Chrollo chuckled, mentally wishing that this woman would find someone else to bother.

“Well, I typically don’t like showing my face at large events. I am not a fan of socializing with others, you see.”

Take the hint, Chrollo thought to himself tiredly.

The woman eyed him ravenously before extending her hand.

“My name is Chiyo Hano, but everyone calls me Chi-Chi.” She said and Chrollo remembered reading her file on his way here as well. She was a very famous model, known for her sculpted face.

Chrollo grabbed her hand, shaking it softly. “Vincent Yoshino, nice to meet you.”

The party was beginning to start, and Chrollo took that as his chance to slip away. He walked in, and he saw you standing above the banister, smiling largely while waving at your incoming guests.

Chrollo smirked and effortlessly grabbed a drink from the waiter's platter as he passed him.

Let the games begin.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh imagines #hxh headcanons #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo hxh #hunter x hunter chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo headcanons #chrollo hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #phantom troupe hxh #phantom of the opera #phantom troupe x reader #phantom troupe imagines #hxh phantom troupe

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appleblueberry-pie · 8 months ago

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Please 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 do a yandere miles morales scenario if reader runs away from him

Pain Isn't Strong Enough

A/n: I'll get as close as I possibly can to "running" away as I can. If nearly spinting almost counts, then absolutely.

Miles didn't know what went wrong. You two were fine with each other the entire time. You often came over to eat dinner. Paid attention to his jokes. You made jokes back. You seemed comfortable when you came over to his place, and vice-versa seemed comfortable when he pulled up at yours. You stole hoodies from him like he wished for you to do. You often texted and called, and everything. You two had great communication skills, the whole fucking nine. So why....? Why are you not...being you??

He knew something was up when you gave him weird strained smiles all throughout the school day. Only would greet back when you two ran into each other again during passing period, and never said anything past that, especially when you two had physics together. He spoke the whole time. You best understand that he definitely checked up on you. Multiple times.

"...baby, are you okay? You've been kind of....kind of quiet lately. Did you eat? How'd you sleep last night?" "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. I'm good." You'd say, nodding at him. He'd stare at you for a few seconds. Waiting for your face to crack or anything. But nothing. So he let it go for now.

At the end of the day, he offered to walk you home. He asked every single time you two walked back to your place, and you always told him to stop asking since you both always would go, no matter what happened. "Lemme you home, ma." He mutters it softly like every other time. "No." Miles stopped in his tracks and snapped his head toward you. "No?" He nearly shouts it. The confusion he felt was embedded deep into his voice when he repeated that word. The fact that you felt, he assumed, uncomfortable enough to openly decline him walking you home just rubbed him the wrong way entirely.

But he didn't mean to respond so abruptly. He collected himself as soon as he said it to not alarm you. He gives you a concerned stare, making sure to watch your eyes. "You sure?" He steps closer to you, getting rid of the space that he felt like was separating the two of you. "Yeah. I just want to go home." You made up some phony excuse to get him off of your back, but of course, it didn't work. "Then let me take you." "I just said no. Is it wrong that I don't want you to come with me this time?" You slip on your wording, wanting it to sound nicer to not be suspicious. And it just left Miles with more questions.

The undertones on your phrasing made him frown. He stays silent and you regret opening your mouth for every second he doesn't respond. You avoid his gaze, staring down your designated block. "No. Go 'head. My mom prolly need help with the chores anyway. I'll see you later, Mi Corazon." He softly whispers the nickname to you, pecking your cheek. You cheese every time he does it. Giving that laugh he loves and saying that you love him back. Now, you don't even flinch, not meeting his gaze once. "Hm." And you walk off.

His initial thought was that you're cheating. But he would know. So, he lets his heart and bones ache for the rest of the day as he waits for you to talk to him. He lets his mom bother him about where her "step-daughter" is and tries to stay chill the entire time he does his homework. His mind was loud and quiet at the same time. He couldn't seem to focus on one thing at a time until he knew the two of you were good. But he didn't want to press you, he didn't want to stress you out. He wanted you to take your time in reaching out to him. So, he stays patient.

By 9 o'clock, he was done with all possible things he could've done to pass the time. Did the laundry, made dinner, cleaned his mom's car, spoke with a neighbor, he even fixed the fucked up cable wires that had been preventing everyone from watching TV this past week. And it was until then, that Miles finally gets a text message from you. He was practically staring at his phone as if he knew you would answer and immediately swiped it off of his desk to see what you finally said. But nothing in the world could've prepared him for what he saw on his screen and he felt his heart drop as he read the message.

Baby - [Are you the prowler?]

He was ready. He was ready for any response you could've given him. I need space, I'm sorry, how are you, what are you doing, can you come over, hey, i miss you, i love you, fuck you, don't talk to me ever again, lose my number. "Is he the prowler"?? Is that what he's seeing on his screen right now?? Miles firmly believes he's hallucinating that message you sent, but the other ones above it that he had read a million times over are still the same, so it has to be real. Miles thinks of all of the hiding places for his gear, his other computer, his hidden weapons, his other bunch of keys, the paperwork for the deals he made, fuck, he couldn't think of what you possibly could've found that made you draw that conclusion. He cursed aloud and watched his hands begin to shake.

It wasn't the end. You wouldn't end the relationship over something as small as this, right? I mean, he would never hurt you, he knew that you knew this. But on the inside, he knew that this was the end of something. And he didn't know if he wanted to know what. Another message came up. You knew he saw it.

Baby - [Answer me.]

Miles - [I'm coming over.]

Baby - [No, don't.]

He shoved his phone into his pocket and rushed to put on a jacket and some shoes. Sneaking out to the fire escape, he rushed down to the street to speed walk over to your place.

You were scared. You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but in the back of your mind, you knew the truth and just couldn't help but feel real fear in your heart. He really was the prowler. You saw everything. That hyper-realistic metal mask you found under his pillow, it couldn't be for just nothing. For fucks sake, it even had the same holographic colors and shape. You found the claws and couldn't bring yourself to see anymore than you already did. And what made it worse is that when you spent the night the same time that you found his gear, he snuck out of the bed....not returning until the early hours of the morning. It made you sick to your stomach.

He was supposed to just be your boyfriend. Not a killer and a fucking robber and whatever else he was. Secrets as big as these just made you question everything else about the relationship you two had. What if he also had bitches on the side? What if you weren't the only one? What if he was using you? Would he......would he kill you...? You were gonna vomit.

Your body felt numb as you put on his hoodie and a pair of shoes he had gifted you. Everything that reminded you of him, you couldn't get rid of. You love him too much. The more you try to shove him away, the more he surrounds your everyday life and mind. And now he was going to find you. You weren't ready to talk at all.

You turned off your location on your phone and left. Maybe you can stay at one of your girl's houses tonight. But she lives in the direction of Miles's place, and you'd probably run into him on the way there. Maybe your cousin that lives like 30 minutes away? It's dark and....the walk would be so fucking dangerous, but it's safer than literally talking with a killer who you slept in the same bed with who-knows-how-many times. What were you going to tell your mom? Your family? His family?? Did his family know? How can you break up with him without causing an uprise? It almost seemed impossible because everyone loved you two being together. And the ones that hated it wanted it more than the two of you did. Too many people had hope in your relationship, it was horrible. It shouldn't have come to this. Maybe you should've just minded your own business.

You round one, two corners. It's dead silent and there's no one on the streets, which somehow feels worse than actual people being there stalking the streets. You hate that you can hear your own heartbeat and breath. On your third corner, you crash into a chest and rough hands grab you before you can fall. "No! No, get off of me!" You thrash in his arms and he seems to almost yell in your face. "Y/n, can you calm down? What the hell is you screaming for??"

"You know why I'm screaming at you, nigga!" "No, I don't I actually don't. So instead of running from me, can you talk to me?" You huff and go silent, pulling yourself out of his grasp to try and breathe. Miles's face falls when he sees how stressed you look. Your veins almost seemed to pop out of your neck. Did you really not want him there? He didn't know what to do. "Please, cariño, I just want to understand..."

You didn't want to start the waterworks and looked up to keep tears from falling down your face. You struggle to croak out the words, gesturing to help yourself cope. "The stuff...t-the stuff under your pillows and bed." Miles looks off to the side. "What is that stuff you got, Miles?" Suddenly it was quiet again. He didn't want to tell you. You didn't want it to be true. Why wasn't he denying it? Why wasn't he hugging you and telling you it was all fake? A science class experiment? Something? Anything but this?? He looks back at you and gains the courage to step closer, bringing a hand up to wipe away your hot tears on your face, like he promised he'd always do for you. He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, baby."

You just seemed to cry harder at his words and pulled his hand from your face. Your throat was beginning to close up, the truth showing in what wasn't said. "I hate when you lie to me. I know you know that I hate when you lie to me. Don't lie....don't lie.." Miles wanted you in his arms again, not far away, distancing the two of you in your mind like he knows you're doing. You're great at disappearing when feeling stressed, but to leave him alone? He doesn't think he can take that. He gave his heart to very few people in his life, and somehow it can never fix his problems. His mom's stressed, Aaron wants more from him, and his Dad.... You're the only one that's given him what he didn't know he needed. You're his salvation. And for you to slip out of his fingers is something he can't allow. His only option left is to tell the truth that he has been hiding for so long.

"I am." You sniffle and wipe your eyes. He can't seem to look at them, instead he stares at the necklace he gifted you when you first got together. Knowing that you kept it on was all he needed to keep speaking. "I am the Prowler."

Your face shifts from sadness into one of frustration as he explains. "I've been the Prowler for 2 years now. I go out almost every night. It helps my mama pay the bills, it keeps Brooklyn safe, and it keeps my close family safe as well. I don't do this for nothing." He whispers the words so quietly, as if he was whispering a taboo to you. Never slipped out of his lips before until this one moment with you. You turn your face the other direction. Miles watches you clench your jaw and rushes to take your hands into his, kissing them lightly.

"And I know that's a long time. And I know I was hiding it from you, baby. Pero tienes que confiar en mí. You're on my mind every single night when I'm out. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I couldn't come back to you one night because I wasn't careful. So I stay careful."(But you have to trust me)

Both of his knees hit the hard concrete as he stares up into your glossy eyes, not daring to look away. "You can do anything, anything to me. I don't care. You can beat me the fuck up, mami. But, por favor, no me dejes. I need you! I need you to live, baby. I can't be without you. I don't wanna see you walk away from me. Please." (Please, don't leave me)

Miles whispered the words only for you to hear. All you wanted was that apology and you wished to give in so bad. You wanted him to stay. Miles stood when you looked the other way to catch your eyes again. "Just let me walk you home, mi vida, and we can talk about this in the morning, okay? Or even tonight, if you want to. Just don't give up on me, not like this." Miles's heart was racing a mile a minute. He really didn't know if he could convince you in this moment. Your face seemed to be stone cold. But when he grabbed your hand, you seemed to tighten your fingers around his. His eyes told you what his mouth couldn't say. And by communicating through silence, you let him pull you in the direction of your home.(My dear)

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phyrestartr · 8 months ago

Text

Vampire | Miguel x M!Reader

Vampire!Miguel x Reader W/C: 5.9k

#NSFW, vampires, blood, gore, violence, bottom!reader, top!Miguel, mentions of sex work, mentions of assault, it's kinda cute idk, posessive behaviour, questionable relationship, reader is morally grey, reader is lowkey a criminal though lol, Johnny Blaze = Nic Cage 5ever sorry not sorry

Note: I FINISHED IT! Lost steam with editing so some bits may be kinda weird and word-y, but I really enjoyed writing this honestly :clap: ty guys for voting for me to finish this o(--( I actually finished it so quickly wtf--

Vampires. Blood-sucking, man-killing, devil-calling creatures. Many feared them, even now, even after the legends of Dracula faded into obscurity and out of the minds of mortal men. But there were some who kept weary watch on the old castle looming before your meager town: older folks, the ones with bleached scars and haunted voices, with quivering hands and a phobia of the dark.

You thought they all spun tales, convinced themselves of a time that never happened thanks to whatever their parents hushedly told them come the waning of the sun. “Don't leave the house after dark,” “be wary of the man you know not,” “pray to God for his protection,” is what you figured they'd been told. You couldn't blame them. Not really. Mass hysteria, mass lies told to the young had a penchant for warping their minds, destroying their futures.

But still, you'd listen. Face alight with a smile, one ear turned their way as you poured drinks for whatever patron came bumbling your way that night. There was one man, one who claimed to have been touched by the devil himself, momentarily transformed into something wicked and unholy, who frequented the establishment.

“Come on now, Johnny,” you chided with a laugh, “you don't really believe all that rubbish. Touched by the devil? You Americans really are the dramatic sort, aren't you?”

“You don't need to believe all of it,” Johnny said mildly. “You just need to believe a sliver of it. It'll do you some good. Keep you safe.”

You smiled to yourself as you busily made a drink for a new customer. “Yeah? Keep me safe from what, exactly?” Your eyes met his, then, and you found your blood stood in place for a moment.

“You know what.” The devil. He'd said it too many times to count without uttering his name. “Just be smart.”

“I'm always smart,” you said with a phony laugh, the sort you used to lull women and men into some cheap sense of comfort.

“Smart people do dumb things, too.” He took a swig of his drink before peering down at the amber pooling against crystal. “Like sneaking around old, unhallowed castles.”

You pursed your lips. “I'm just curious, old man, you don't need to worry. I've not been inside, yeah? Just looked ‘round the outside of the old place.” That's probably filled with loads of goods.

But Johnny only stared at you, calculating, thinking. It almost unnerved you.

“Just be careful.”

And in that moment, a man whose name you didn’t know, but whose body you knew too well, walked into the bar. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall, and from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden away under the brim of that hat, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones. His eyes, a bizarre colour, always glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of, and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadow rolling off his strong neck.

He didn’t look at you, but you couldn’t look away. Your gaze followed him to where he found a quiet seat off to the side by a small table. He wouldn’t order anything. He never did. He only ever waited for your shift to end.

“Kid?” Johnny prodded, freeing you from your momentary curse.

You blinked and sputtered, nodding in earnest to whatever Johnny had said. “I–right. Careful. I’m always careful.”

–

Just be careful.

But that was impossible with this otherworldly spirit around you, waiting for you every other night just for the sake of bedding you, and leaving before morning with nothing but a stack of bills (or sometimes some jewelry, if you were lucky) to remember him by. Your favourite client by far. Your only client, per his request.

Your fists twisted into the bedsheets as you gasped with every brutal crashing of the man’s hips against yours as he took you from behind. He was in a bad mood tonight, it seemed. Normally, he liked to take it slow, he liked to savour his meal, but for some reason–

His hand clasped over your mouth when his teeth tore into your neck again. The cry that left you was hoarse and tired, but not so surprised, no; the man had his kinks, and one just so happened to be biting. He did quite the number on you, too, always breaking skin and leaving scars and scabs in his wake. But it felt good. It felt right to be claimed. The greedy, ugly little part of your heart wanted people to know you were taken and owned by this strange, captivating man.

“Fuck, I–” You buried your face into the mattress as another orgasm hit, striking your dull nerves like hammer on hot iron thrust after thrust. Soon enough, you felt his body stutter against yours just before an uncanny, liquid gold filled your guts and seeped into your core–he was finally done. Finally. Though part of you wished it didn’t have to end.

His teeth, the pointed, feral things, dislodged from your neck before he ran the flat of his tongue against the weeping wound. Somehow, that always staunched the bleeding. You didn’t quite understand it, but you weren’t exactly well-versed in medicine.

“Tired already?” He mocked in that smokey, American accent. “Thought the young had more than that to offer.” The purr of his voice soothed the pulsing start of a headache as you came down from your high. Yet another strange effect he had on you.

You took a good handful of moments to catch your breath before you tried to hazard an answer. “I’m–you’re in some kind of mood, darling; can’t blame me for your brutality.” You turned your head to rest your cheek against the scratchy sheets, and the beast took the opportunity to leave nips and kisses along your jaw.

“Tch. I’m just reminding you who you belong to. Where you belong.” Sharp teeth grazed your skin again, and you shuddered. “No one likes to see theirs fawning over another man.”

You strained to look back at him. “You–you mean Johnny? He’s not–I wouldn’t let him bed me, are you mad?” A rough push of his hips against yours reprimanded you. “H-He’s a mate, love, that’s all.”

The man twitched. “A mate?”

“A friend, you bloody idiot.”

He relaxed, but still sought confirmation. “A friend.”

“A friend, indeed. Father-figure, maybe.” With a bit of effort, you managed to wriggle free from the strength of the man pinning you in place, and laid on your back to gaze up at him. “I’m not interested in him, he’s not interested in men, so you needn’t worry a thing.” One of your worn hands reached up and smoothed over the curve of his sharp cheekbone, drawing a pleased hum from the chamber of the beast’s chest.

“Fine.” He rested his weight on you, and you sighed, content and warmed. But that bony chin digging into your chest was a tad bit fucking irritating. “Then if he’s not trying to fuck you, what makes you listen to him for hours on end, hm?” Hah. Annoyed. Jealous. Quite endearing.

“He has stories to tell,” you offered. “Words about the devil and the curse of the undead. About Dracula and that old castle.”

The man’s brows raised in interest. “Oh? And you like ghost stories, is that it? Here I figured I'd be enough to keep your mind entertained,” he said with a taunting smirk, like he thought your suggested belief in those spooky tales was laughable.

Heat washed over your face. “I–you–shut up, I just like me a good story, is that so wrong? Tch, stupid American.”

He laughed, a sound you adored to hell and back. “I’ll keep it in mind. Might have a few good stories up my sleeve, too.” His head tilted the slightest bit. “Maybe then your eyes won’t wander.”

“Terribly jealous one, aren’t you? I never would’ve guessed it.” You raked your hands through his hair and he sighed, deep and ancient. But your words were true–this man, your mysterious client-turned-lover, he captivated all wherever he traveled. With so many eyes on him, why did he want you to look nowhere else but to him?

Greedy man. That’s what you decided. He wanted everything and more.

“Other men don't get to look at what's mine,” he mumbled after a time of you pampering him with pets and scritches. “And you're mine, for the record.”

“Hm. I quite like the sound of that.”

“Then marry me.”

“I'm not sure I can,” you lamented. “I find myself in trouble too often. It puts me on the run, jumping from town to city and back again.”

“You'd never have to run again if you let me have you.” He picked himself up and loomed over you, brushing his nose against yours as he spoke against your lips. “You'd be safe, cared for, never want for anything. None of those sacks of shit would would lay a finger on you again.” His lips trailed down, brushing against the thick vein in your neck. “I think it's for the best if you agree.”

You almost argued back, but the large hand engulfing your throat gave you pause. He didn't hurt you, no, but gave you a silent warning. The power that man held over you contradicted his weakness to your wants and desires, and twisted your thoughts into unorganized knots.

“I'll think on it,” you breathed, not wanting to say yes but unwilling to say no. You didn't want marriage, but commitment was a tantalizing idea. You'd just never thought it'd happen to you.

His eyes came back to yours again. Your heart fluttered at the glints of carmine shimmering in candle-lit eyes. God, he was beautiful.

“I better like your answer.”

–

You left. You hated doing it, you hated running from your problems and whatever seemed to haunt you day to day, but too much happened in too short a time.

For one, the landlord demanded more and more rent money from you when he noticed your gifted jewelry and newly tailored coat, and then, when you didn't give it to him, he took to trying to get payment another way. You shot him, obviously.

Which led to your second reason for leaving–you'd shot a man and fled the scene, unknowing if he was alive or not, and uncaring of the outcome, quite frankly. You figured the lowlife would be more pressed about the money than dying, anyway.

And third, the bar you worked at found out you'd been swindling and stealing on the job, pocketing tips and taking home near-empty bottles to refill with something of your own design to sell on the streets. Admittedly, it was fine work, but you'd long abandoned that method of money-making once that stranger wandered into your life and offered you more cash than you could imagine.

But you liked that bar. You liked those patrons. No strings attached.

And that's why you were back. Not with the intention to stay, no; you were back to scout out the castle after getting confirmation from some university lads about how valuable the old place was. You figured you could find enough in there with the scoundrels you'd come with, and maybe you could pay the old owner back before leaving for good.

You'd never have to run again if you'd let me have you.

Maybe you should've just said yes.

–

The castle stood beautifully, even with the screams of the slaughtered ringing through the halls. It was big, too, eagerly letting you get lost in its enchanting halls and inviting rooms as you tried in vain to remember the way out.

That's when you crashed into one of the uni snobs you'd come with, Harry. He was a mess, clothes and hair out of place for once, with a spray of sticky blood coating his face and white shirt. Osborn must've seen their tormentor.

He grabbed your shoulders as you grabbed his arms. “We have to go, we have to go–” he chanted, pulling and pushing you in undecided directions.

“Osborn, where did you see it? Where–” Another scream gave you a hint. Your eyes snapped down the hallway, staring deep into the torchlit halls and finding nothing but the unknown staring back.

Then, there were footsteps. Slow, methodical things that rung to a tune hidden in your memories.

“We have to go,” you whispered, like that'd help. “Osborn, we have to–” a splitting pain electrocuted your senses and sent you stumbling backwards. The world spun. Your head ached. Funeral bells shrieked. Worst of all, that dress shirt and that fancy jacket you loved so much were stained suddenly, a foul colour of darkness that reeked of pennies and iron. It took you too long to look back to the student, and to see the smoking pistol held out in his shaky hand.

“I had to,” Osborn whispered, so, so haunted. “I had to. You understand.” And quite frankly, you did understand; wounding a lamb to leave behind for a wolf to indulge in was a sure way to let a farmer escape.

Harry took off. You grasped your stomach and leaned hard against the wall, trying to pull yourself together to make some kind of run for it before those languid steps found you and cut your story short. But you felt so tired, so dizzy. The red weeping under your hand and the bewildered pants leaving you left you colder and colder. You wondered if Osborn had shot himself in the foot with this one (hah), killing the sacrificial lamb, rendering it useless to what was believed to be a vampire of all things. They devoured the living, not the dead.

Clack, clack, clack. The haunting echo of fine shoes on wooden slats passed you by, then vanished all together. You collapsed to your knees and heaved in the burning air just as a deafening screech ricocheted through the halls with the echo of frantic gunfire, and the slosh of viscera. You fought back the burn of bile in your throat when you braved a look; there laid a body on the floor, and a corpse standing above it, illuminated just barely by torchlight.

His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall–

“We could have avoided all of this,” the creature growled.

–from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden in the swath of darkness around him, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones–

“But you didn’t listen.”

–his eyes, a bizarre colour, glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of–

“Why couldn’t you just listen?”

–and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadows rolling off his strong neck.

He appeared beside you so suddenly, so soundlessly, you wouldn’t have known he approached if it weren’t for the strength of your fluttering eyelids seeking the truth. You stared hard at the tips of his leather shoes. Perhaps you should’ve known it was him all along. Perhaps you had known.

He knelt before you and forced your chin up, making your eyes meet his as he stared down through you. Blood marred his face, matching the wine-red hue of his furious, gem-cut eyes; even like this, teeth bared, about to kill you, he was beautiful.

“Look what you’ve done. This is your fault–”

But that beauty was wasted on such a foul-mouthed monster.

“My fault?” You spat. “Fuck you.” You tore your chin from his grip, but his hand sought out your throat instead. “Don’t fucking touch me–”

He smiled, bitter but so wholly and infuriatingly amused before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll do whatever I want with you.” And before you could lash out, before you could throw a fist at his stupid face, he yanked you in and bit.

A winter breeze rippled through you. Cold. Piercing. And you gradually froze like water dripping from the gutters, no longer able to fight back, too sluggishly slow to do anything about your fate. You breathed hard, feeling the hole in your stomach and ache of your heart weep and worsen with every shattering breath you took. Your hands, gentle in their weakness, pawed at his chest and sought a spot to dig in and hold on to for dear life as the waking world turned its back to you.

But despite the bitterness, and despite words exchanged, he held the side of your face as you faded in and out of consciousness. He called something, and a flurry of orange wisps appeared above you.

–

You awoke to the echoes of a dream, one you hadn’t had for a while. A cloudless night where you’d been caught in bed by a taken woman’s man and beaten half to death; in return, you shredded through the man's chest with a knife from the kitchen while the wife watched on in silence. You'd been ready to kill her, too, slit her throat in one easy motion, but she never screamed, never looked at the wild animal with fear.

Tell the police he attacked you, miss.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

You fumbled through the alleys after leaving the scene, but others, foul things that roamed the streets where not even rats lingered, found you, threatened to use up the last of what you had to offer this pitiful world. It seemed as though they disappeared in the time it took you to blink, though, and a man was left, standing in their wake. He looked somewhat disheveled, like he’d just finished some grand task, but he was just so put together, too. You struggled to make sense of it, but you didn’t really care to.

“Well, isn't that impressive,” you said with a breathless laugh. “Not a shred of blood on you. Are you the ripper the paper’s gone on and on about?”

The being glanced over his shoulder, eyes alight in curious mirth. He turned your way and stepped closer. You saw it then, the slightest bit of dark smears on his face.

“Is that what they're calling me?” He adjusted his cuffs, and rolled his shoulders. “Huh.”

Adrenaline poured into your heart. “You're quite the dangerous man, aren't you, sir?” you swallowed thickly as you looked him over: fine shoes, expensive coat, luxurious rings. “And, ah, well-off. You wouldn't happen to be interested in spreading the wealth, hm?”

His hand cupped your jaw, sticky with freezing blood, and he leaned in. The pungent scent of iron curled your gut as he breathed you in, making up his mind with what to do with you. Then, with the dry, warm back of his gloved hand, he caressed the side of your face and watched your eyelids flutter, devouring the simple gesture.

“Let's see if you can convince me to.”

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

Curiosity willed your eyes open, and you gazed down at the hollow tube connecting you to the walking corpse. You fought to ease the jump of your heart, but it became impossible when a dark red raced from the vampire's arm down into yours.

“Is that going to make me like you?” You whispered, nerves twitching and burning with the bite of restless fire ants.

Crimson eyes found yours and looked deep. “It won't. You can relax.” But you weren't convinced, and your lover could tell. “You'd have to drink my blood.”

“Why're you giving me your blood, then?”

“You'll die without it.” He pumped something, you now noticed, and realized it was what drew the blood from his veins and drained it into yours.

Curious. “Were you a man of medicine?”

He scoffed. “Still am.” He threw you a wary look, one brow raised. “How many more questions are you–”

“Your name?” That was something you'd requested before, but always through a veil of uncertainty. You didn't like to ask much of him. He didn't ask much of you. But you didn't know him, yet he knew you.

Your vampire frowned, unapproving. “What difference will it make?”

“You asked me to fucking marry you,” you bit out. “And yet you keep so many secrets from me, still. I've given you more than I have, and you can't even–”

“Miguel.” You both paused–him to gauge your reaction, and you out of shock. “Miguel O'hara.”

The cracks in your chest mended, just slightly. Miguel O'hara. What a name that was. Formidable and wholly suiting the beast of a man you'd known and craved for far too many years.

“Miguel O'hara,” you whispered, staring tiredly at the red thread connecting the two of you. The name felt good on your tongue.

Nothing more was said, then. He must've still felt the tension in the air, or maybe the coil of apprehension in your body, for he worked on in silence, quietly saving your life for no reason.

It was when he pulled free the needle that you found the will to break the silence on your own.

“Why didn't you tell me?” It came out a pathetic whisper, sounding as broken as your mind felt.

He paused before pulling the needle from his own arm. “Tell you what?”

It was a good question. You didn't know what to ask him to elaborate on. You didn't know if you wanted him to elaborate on anything, actually, because it'd make it too real, too tangible.

“Everything.” And when he stayed silent, you narrowed it down to just, “all of…you.”

Miguel licked his thumb and stroked it soothingly against the pinprick of a wound while his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into something of a frown. “How could I?” You both watched the tiny dot of red cease weeping. “If you'd moved on and you knew, it could put everything at risk.”

If I'd moved on. It felt wrong. It felt uncomfortable to know he felt that somewhere between his ribs and his heart. And for how long? How long had he not trusted you? Did he even trust you in that moment, knowing what and who he truly was? Or were you now doomed to this castle just as he was?

“I'll let you rest,” Miguel said as he clasped his medical case shut and stood. “Lyla'll bring you food.”

Thump, thump, thump, echoed his footsteps, those fine shoes muffled by old carpet; but the sharp clack, clack, clack in the hollow echoes of your memories, just before the truth revealed itself to you, swallowed up your thoughts.

“(Name),” Miguel said, and your eyes opened to find the tall, proud back of his silhouette stood at the door, one hand clutching the knob. “Don’t leave this room.”

And he left you there, heart aching, mind melting, soul shattering.

–

Solitude reminded you of what else happened. The lads you'd come here with, nothing more than acquaintances, were missing, or perhaps dead. It ate at your mind. Could you have done something different? Could you have convinced him to let them go?

More importantly, would Miguel let you leave? He claimed he wanted to marry you, but words were just words if not put to use with actions. Staying by his side would mean stomaching the fact he'd consume countless other people, wouldn't it? How were you expected to watch your partner(?), your groom-to-be(?), hold and pierce others the way he promised to you and only you?

But could you let him stay here alone, hunted and hated by believers, laughed at by the average skeptic? If you were not here, how many more would walk in on a dare, and meet a terrible end? They didn’t matter, no, but the legend of a vampire would turn more and more true, summoning devil-hunters to his doorstep, stake and flames in-hand.

The thoughts plagued you, filling your head with the terrible buzzing of bees. You couldn't fathom why you cared so much; most of your life you'd lived for your own sake, doing what needed to be done to get by, to have a better tomorrow. You hated other people. A few of them you'd personally buried six feet under, whether they were dead or lived still, and you never batted an eye. You had no patience for those who'd oppose you.

You would have killed Osborn yourself if O’hara hadn't. And that was the truth. That'd been the truth the whole time, ever since you saw just how expensively he and the others lived; gold dripped from their tongues, silver ran through their veins, diamonds fell from their eyes. You wanted to claim a bit of that for yourself.

And Miguel had shared his wealth with you, just in exchange for a bit of blood and your body for the night. Surely you could look past what he did to survive, even if it put your heart into a spiral.

Lost in thought, you found your way to his chambers, freely disobeying his orders

He lounged in a clawfoot bath. Stuffy heat lulled you into a daze, something like a carefree summer evening wherein the sun took too long to vanish. Though when he noticed you approach, shedding clothes the entire way, the heat grew near unbearable.

Miguel's claws creaked against the enamel in anticipation when you stepped into the water. You watched him with the same delicate intrigue as prey investigating something that could be a threat as you found your place between his spread legs, getting close enough to feel the pounding of his undead heart. You'd only seen his body in dim candlelight or withering rays of the moon, never truly illuminated by the glow of floating chandeliers nor the collection of sconces arching from the wall.

Slowly, your fingertips dragged along muscle, warm and firm under your calloused touch. The scars littering your hands and knuckles shone so stark against his perfect complexion. He really did seem too perfect. It would have sparked jealousy in your gut if he didn't apparently belong to you, and you to him. No one else got to touch. No one else got to see.

Now, you were built finely yourself, but the man before you was something entirely different. You didn't know if it was thanks to his supernatural existence, but his body was built in a near-animalistic way that screamed power and speed, not similar enough to a human. Though, looking back, you did always think his manners in bed were more beast than man. The growling, the clawing, the marks of claim on the nape of your neck, it all clicked and made sense in the whirlwind of your mind.

“I think a werewolf would suit you better,” you admitted. “What with the claws and biting and general uncouth behaviour.”

Miguel huffed. “You must be talking about yourself.” His voice rang low and quiet, too aware he might scare off his prized hare if he put too much into his words. “You're the one acting like a rabid animal.”

“No, you.”

“Don't think so.”

“You're difficult.”

“You're one to talk.”

“How long have you been like this?” Your fingers combed through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut. “A vampire. Or whatever you are.”

“Lost track,” he said, sounding too honest. “I have records. Notes. From experiments. The dates on those are close to when it happened.” Experiments? Colour you intrigued.

“So you weren't exactly practicing white medicine?” You tilted your head in thought. “You were doing something more–”

“It wasn't black magic,” Miguel scoffed. “It was science. Genetics. Studying how other organisms function, learning about them.” His expression darkened just the slightest bit. “Trying to…recreate them.”

Your head spun a little trying to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t too hard, but it was hard to accept as reality. But if anyone were to unlock the damned secrets of immortality, of course it'd be this man. This cocky, genius, charming man. God really did have favourites, though they always did seem to disappoint him.

“I see. So you're telling me you're a genius who rebirthed vampires,” you summed up, letting your hands melt down his body, below the water's surface. “How is it you only get more and more impressive, Mr.O'hara?”

A smug smirk bloomed across his lips. “It's just in my nature.” His head tilted back with a pleased sigh when your touch finally landed on that annoying thing prodding your thigh. “I have no choice but to succeed.”

“Tch. Americans are so arrogant.” You hummed and leaned in, ghosting kisses along his vulnerable neck while your hand pleased him slowly, teasingly. His talons screeched against the tub again. “But maybe you have reason to be, hm? Given how accomplished you are.”

A dark, scarlet haze like the sky of the blood moon illuminated Miguel's eyes in the few moments they slipped open to catch a glimpse of you. You wondered if he needed a reality check. Maybe he thought he was hallucinating, maybe he thought that you weren't really there despite being pressed up against him and murmuring useless quips into his skin. You'd be sure to leave an impression on him; your hand quickened, gripping tighter and pulling the way he directed you to far too many years ago, but his barbed hand caught your wrist.

“Stop,” he gasped. His chest rose and fell with his light panting as he stared you down. Want radiated off of him like an animal starved. You knew what was rattling around in his mind before he even spoke.

“You want to fuck me, is that it?”

Miguel's breath hitched.

–

You made him ravenous. You were the only thing he wanted to feast on, delicacies and sanguine temptations be damned.

One of his large hands held your waist in a death grip while his other hand held your head down, forcing your incoherent ramblings into the soft, silken sheets as he rammed you from behind like a beast in heat. You took it well, too, not that you hadn't before–he always held back, appeared to you as human when he fucked you previously. But now that you knew the truth, now that you knew what lay hidden in the dark nooks of his bones’ marrow, he felt complete. And that meant he could completely lay claim to you, too.

He matched the curve of your back with his chest when he leaned over you, burying his nose into your neck and shoulder to indulge in your scent. Your vampire's desire to breed slowed and steadied into deep, thoughtful rolls of his hips. Perhaps his mind had caught up with him and ushered him to slow down, to abandon some of that reckless excitement.

Miguel heard the slightest mumble of his name on your lips and leaned down further to touch his own to your cheekbone. One arm looped underneath your throat in a benign chokehold of sorts, while his other hand threaded through your hair–if he wasn't fucking you like an animal before, this makeshift mating lock he had on you sealed the deal.

“You feel good,” Miguel murmured, voice tickling the shell of your ear.

“Hah. I, ah, always feel good,” you tried to quip back, but your expression betrayed the fraying threads of whatever self-control you still desperately clung to. “You’re, uh…unhinged, hey?” Miguel scoffed. “Like a…a wild beast.”

“Oh?” A purr hummed through his chest, piercing your body and rattling through your own lungs in seismic pulses. “A wild beast? Flattering.”

“Really, darling, you don't have to be such a sarcastic asshole when you're–” a hard snap of his hips sent you spiraling for a moment, “--in my ass.”

“Maybe you should watch your mouth,” he suggested.

“Maybe you could watch it for me,” you countered.

The warmth of his laugh sent chills scattering across your skin. He pulled out of you and turned you over, dragging your hips back against him before his powerful body engulfed yours again. Miguel liked this more. He liked the feeling of your hands grabbing and clawing at him, the way your thighs attached to his waist, how you bit your bottom lip while your eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming feeling of your partner destroying you.

And of course, his lips could meet yours like this. The sweet tang of copper and berries, a taste so familiar and so you, was shared between tongues, kept secret in the crevices of teeth. It amazed Miguel how much one little kiss could push him over the edge and make the bed creak and groan with you as he loved on you and made sure to send the message straight to your core.

Your hands fisted in his hair when you came undone. That lovely voice of yours poured into Miguel's eager mouth, and you tightened, pulling him to the edge and pushing him over with the might of a wild stampede. Claws nipped your skin, fangs pierced deeper, yet his rutting hit deepest, and burned you alive with unbearable, liquid heat.

–

“Why me?” You asked into the stillness of the room.

Calm silence answered you for a long moment. The sun bloomed beyond the thick curtains, you noticed in your wait, and you wondered if you would ever miss the sight. England never truly had bright, sunny days from what you recalled; stretches of smokey, grey overcast clouded the skies and your memories more often than not. Could your vampire walk amongst the living like this?

Miguel sighed, leaning into the hand carding through his hair. “Figured you’d understand.”

“I’d understand what?”

“Killing to survive.”

“How long have you known?” You wondered, unsurprised.

“Blood tells stories,” he whispered. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered a moment before crimson eyes peered open the slightest bit. “Your story’s long. Complicated. You’re too young for it.”

A smile twitched onto your face. You adjusted in the bed, getting more comfortable on your side in those pooling, satin sheets. “So you thought I’d be an easy target for sex, then? Desperate and young as I was.”

He found your eyes, his gaze earnest and bleeding. “I–you–fine, at first it was like you said. Maybe. But after enough time, I decided you weren’t like the rest. You’re as supernatural as I am.”

“Supernaturally handsome? I agree.”

“Stop.”

“You didn’t think I’d be afraid of you.”

“I’d hoped as much.”

“And you still didn’t tell me.” Your fingertips danced along the arch of his cheekbone, leaving pleasant sparks against his skin in their wake, unbeknownst to you. “Were you scared?”

“I’d rather have you as a man for whatever time we had together than to lose you to a beast,” he explained, cryptic as one would expect an old legend to be. “I’ve lost too much already because of…this. Because of me. I didn’t want to lose more.” Miguel’s dark brows furrowed. “If you ended up fearing me to, I–”

You silenced him with a hand over his mouth. “Enough. I understand.” You palm smoothed back up to cup his face. “You needn’t be afraid of me–well, being afraid, I suppose. I’ll stay.” You took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “This bed’s too comfortable to give up, after all.”

His breath fanned against your skin as he chuckled, tired and perhaps tinted with disbelief. “Well, you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Brilliant. Would you even let me drink your blood?”

The rumble of a growl, or perhaps a purr, rolled through his chest into yours. You searched his eyes, wondering, hoping, and found mere slices of ruby peeking out from behind eclipsing pupils.

“We’ll see.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #vampire miguel #vampire!miguel #Vampire Miguel O'hara

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mariacallous · 1 year ago

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For Sander van der Linden, misinformation is personal.

As a child in the Netherlands, the University of Cambridge social psychologist discovered that almost all of his mother’s family had been executed by the Nazis during the Second World War. He became absorbed by the question of how so many people came to support the ideas of someone like Adolf Hitler, and how they might be taught to resist such influence.

While studying psychology at graduate school in the mid-2010s, van der Linden came across the work of American researcher William McGuire. In the 1960s, stories of brainwashed prisoners-of-war during the Korean War had captured the zeitgeist, and McGuire developed a theory of how such indoctrination might be prevented. He wondered whether exposing soldiers to a weaker form of propaganda might have equipped them to fight off a full attack once they’d been captured. In the same way that army drills prepared them for combat, a pre-exposure to an attack on their beliefs could have prepared them against mind control. It would work, McGuire argued, as a cognitive immunizing agent against propaganda—a vaccine against brainwashing.

Traditional vaccines protect us by feeding us a weaker dose of pathogen, enabling our bodies’ immune defenses to take note of its appearance so we’re better equipped to fight the real thing when we encounter it. A psychological vaccine works much the same way: Give the brain a weakened hit of a misinformation-shaped virus, and the next time it encounters it in fully-fledged form, its “mental antibodies” remember it and can launch a defense.

Van der Linden wanted to build on McGuire’s theories and test the idea of psychological inoculation in the real world. His first study looked at how to combat climate change misinformation. At the time, a bogus petition was circulating on Facebook claiming there wasn’t enough scientific evidence to conclude that global warming was human-made, and boasting the signatures of 30,000 American scientists (on closer inspection, fake signatories included Geri Halliwell and the cast of M*A*S*H). Van der Linden and his team took a group of participants and warned them that there were politically motivated actors trying to deceive them—the phony petition in this case. Then they gave them a detailed takedown of the claims of the petition; they pointed out, for example, Geri Halliwell’s appearance on the list. When the participants were later exposed to the petition, van der Linden and his group found that people knew not to believe it.

The approach hinges on the idea that by the time we’ve been exposed to misinformation, it’s too late for debunking and fact-checking to have any meaningful effect, so you have to prepare people in advance—what van der Linden calls “prebunking.” An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

When he published the findings in 2016, van der Linden hadn’t anticipated that his work would be landing in the era of Donald Trump’s election, fake news, and post-truth; attention on his research from the media and governments exploded. Everyone wanted to know, how do you scale this up?

Van der Linden worked with game developers to create an online choose-your-own-adventure game called Bad News, where players can try their hand at writing and spreading misinformation. Much like a broadly protective vaccine, if you show people the tactics used to spread fake news, it fortifies their inbuilt bullshit detectors.

But social media companies were still hesitant to get on board; correcting misinformation and being the arbiters of truth is not part of their core business model. Then people in China started getting sick with a mysterious flulike illness.

The coronavirus pandemic propelled the threat of misinformation to dizzying new heights. Van der Linden began working with the British government and bodies like the World Health Organization and the United Nations to create a more streamlined version of the game specifically revolving around Covid, which they called GoViral! They created more versions, including one for the 2020 US presidential election, and another to prevent extremist recruitment in the Middle East. Slowly, Silicon Valley came around.

A collaboration with Google has resulted in a campaign on YouTube in which the platform plays clips in the ad section before the video starts, warning viewers about misinformation tropes like scapegoating and false dichotomies and drawing examples from Family Guy and Star Wars. A study with 20,000 participants found that people who viewed the ads were better able to spot manipulation tactics; the feature is now being rolled out to hundreds of millions of people in Europe.

Van der Linden understands that working with social media companies, who have historically been reluctant to censor disinformation, is a double-edged sword. But, at the same time, they’re the de facto guardians of the online flow of information, he says, “and so if we’re going to scale the solution, we need their cooperation.” (A downside is that they often work in unpredictable ways. Elon Musk fired the entire team who was working on pre-bunking at Twitter when he became CEO, for instance.)

This year, van der Linden wrote a book on his research, titled Foolproof: Why We Fall for Misinformation and How to Build Immunity. Ultimately, he hopes this isn’t a tool that stays under the thumb of third-party companies; his dream is for people to inoculate one another. It could go like this: You see a false narrative gaining traction on social media, you then warn your parents or your neighbor about it, and they’ll be pre-bunked when they encounter it. “This should be a tool that’s for the people, by the people,” van der Linden says.

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omnomnomdomcaps · 1 year ago

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Fibber's Fiber: A Fable (Remastered)

Reposting a few old stories for the Spooky Season. Here's one featuring @peariesprincesstimes!

Krystal only had twenty minutes before her next client arrived, and she started her break by scrambling up to her apartment to check on her heavy, sagging diaper, finding it every bit as full as it felt. Shaking her fists in familiar frustration, she then frantically untaped the soiled plastic, wiped, wiped, wiped, and wiped, powdered generously, and finally fastened a fresh diaper before making her way back down to her first-floor storefront.

What was happening to her wasn’t natural, but she knew that already. This was just the way her life was, ever since that strange old lady first walked into her shop.

Krystal had pegged her for just another sucker, easy prey for her phony spiritual medium scheme. With her hair wrapped in a shawl and her face riddled with wrinkles and warts, she never gave even the slightest impression of being anything more than a senile old hag. She eagerly asked Krystal to commune with more and more spirits on her behalf, seemed to cheer at each fabricated revelation, and showed earnest innocence when she left her physic guide a sweet as “reward” for her work.

Krystal stopped eating the strange candy soon after feeling its bitter aftertaste, but by then the potion was already in place. A small, scrawled note at the bottom of the labelless glass bottle told her all she needed to know, though it would take her some time to believe it:

A frownful fate falls to the false and the phony,

Forging their fortunes ‘pon the folly of fools,

For now, should you lie, deceive, or mislead,

This Fibber’s Fiber will loosen your stool!

It was true. It was all true. And for a girl like Krystal, who made her living off of conning the hapless and desperate, it put her in an impossible spot. By the very next night after she met the old lady, she was soiling her panties in front of a client, her face turning beet red as she tried desperately to direct attention towards her ouija board, and away from the rude noises bursting from her bottom.

In the days and weeks that followed, the girl tried everything to ease her situation. She took trips to the bathroom before and during every session. She fasted. And she tried her very very best to hold it in. It didn’t matter - when the lies came out one end, the consequences followed at the other, and the so-called psychic soon found herself running through a case of thick adult diapers, stinking up each one as she filled it to the very brim.

Tonight’s misadventure was no different. Krystal filled the room as loud as she could with mystical-sounding music, but she knew the white-haired woman in front of her could still sense her stomach rumble as soon as she introduced herself as a medium. There was no hiding the face she made as her body involuntarily pushed each time a new “ghost” would come in contact with her. And the way she squirmed in her seat answering any and every question she was asked - well, that was just obvious.

“Is everything alright?” the lady finally offered, speaking in a soft, old voice.

Krystal gulped. “Y-y-yes,” she mumbled meekly, before depositing into her diaper once more.

#ab/dl caption #ab/dl community

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mercurygray · 1 year ago

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So I Hear You Liked...World War Two Dramas

What's that? You said you wanted a World War Two series where women actually speak to each other? Have I got a deal for you!

When Band of Brothers first came out, I did not have cable, but what I did have was a card at a library that owned seemingly every PBS drama ever broadcast. I know and love a lot of these shows, and I hope you do, too.

As we wait for Masters of the Air to join us, maybe you can fill some time with one of these!

Classic: These shows were made in the 70s and 80s and while the production values are not the same as something made more recently, they're all fun to watch.

Danger UXB - daily life in a bomb disposal unit.

Dad's Army - comedy show about the Home Guard.

Hogan's Heroes - situational comedy about life in a POW camp.

Piece of Cake - follows British pilots stationed in France as the Phony War begins.

Homefront Perspectives:

✨Housewife, 49 - Based on the wartime diary of Nella Last, who participated in the Mass Observation project. One of my favorites.

✨Foyle’s War - procedural crime drama following DCS Foyle and hsi team as he solves murders in wartime Britain. Another favorite.

Island at War - Wartime life on the Channel Islands during the German occupation

Land Girls - Follows the lives of a group of Land Girls working on an estate farm.

Bomb Girls - Follows the lives of a group of workers in a Toronto munitions factory.

Home Fires - Life in a small British town near an air base. Based on a book.

World On Fire - Follows the disparate lives of several people in several countries as the war begins.

✨All Creatures Great and Small - The life of Yorkshire Vet James Herriot, based on the book series of the same title. A favorite, both the 1970s original and the 2020 version.

A French Village - Daily life in a French village is upended as the Germans invade. Follows the same village through the entire war.

My Mother and Other Strangers - An Irish village deals with the introduction of an American Air Force base.

Colditz - life in one of the war's most infamous POW camps. Features Damian Lewis!!

Atlantic Crossing - the life of Crown Princess Marta of Norway as she tries to advocate for her country while living in the United States.

The Halycon - Life in a posh London hotel during the 1940s

Spies and Science:

X Company - Canadian drama about life overseas for spies

Resistance - French wartime drama about a woman in the French underground movement

Restless - Postwar drama about a woman who spied for the Russians in England during the war.

✨Manhattan - If you liked Oppenheimer, have I got a show for you!! Follows the lives of several scientists and their families as they move to Los Alamos. A favorite.

✨The Heavy Water War - Norwegian/British operations Grouse and Gunnerside to destroy German heavy water plant. A favorite.

The Twelfth Man - Norwegian sabotage operation gets shot down in occupied Norway.

✨Generation War - German experience of war from variety of perspectives. This show is excellent. Everyone should watch this.

✨SAS: Rogue Heroes - Follows the foundation of a parachute regiment in North Africa that would eventually become the basis for Britain's commando units. A favorite.

Postwar:

A Place to Call Home - very soapy Australian post-war drama about an upperclass family.

Our Wonder Years - Follows three sisters in post-war Germany as they attempt to confront the past.

Tannbach - Follows a family whose German town is split in two along the new East-West border.

The Defeated - Crime drama following a policeman trying to find his brother in post-war Berlin

Small Island- a Jamaican woman moves to London after the war and tries to adjust to a country that doesn't want her there

Call the Midwife - Social drama in the 1960s addressing the health and lives of the post-war poor of London.

#band of brothers #so i hear you liked #i'm gonna rec it #masters of the air

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bluebayousblog · 10 months ago

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RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 16)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Eve

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART FIFTEEN

Christmas Eve called for an illustrious dinner prepared by Catherine Starkey and Lora Cooper, so the two women had both went off to the kitchen. And Richard and Charles snuck off to the balcony to smoke cigars while their wives were preoccupied, too busy to scold them about the nasty habit. This left Isobel awkwardly still sitting on the floor from the intense game of spades everyone had been playing while Drew and Chandler sat on the sofa across from her in silence.

It was so excruciatingly awkward but no one moved to get up or leave the suffocating quietness. Isobel just pretended she wasn’t stealing glances at Drew whenever he wasn’t discreetly attempting to do the same. He was better at it, the sly looks, but she felt him—everything about him. The short glances, his presence, all the words she hadn’t allowed him to say to her last night and the ones he wanted to express because of it.

The thought of the mess she’d made of their relationship made her entire body cringe as she tried to expunge the negative thoughts from penetrating her mind. The thoughts telling her that he would never want to speak to her again, that he would never be able to look at her like he did before, that things would never be the same. And Isobel wasn’t sure what point in their friendship she would want to revert back to because as disorienting as their feelings for each other made everything she’s not sure she would ever want to be just friends with Drew again—or if it was even possible.

Her manicured nails scratched across her palms for some sort of distraction and looked over to Chandler. She hoped that he couldn’t sense the tension between her and his brother, but to her relief he seemed to be consumed by whatever was on his phone. That is until he threw the device on the cushion beside him, took one glance at them both—to which she smiled—and then his eyes squinted.

“What’s going on with you two?” He asked with suspicion heavy in the last two words. He definitely felt the tension.

“What do you mean?” Isobel tried to smile again, but the bored glare he gave made her muscles go taut.

She felt self-conscious for a multitude of reasons in the moment, but the most pressing was at the awareness that everyone knew she was being phony. As if she was just like them, sitting on the sofa and looking down at her pathetic self trying to make it seem like everything was fine. But there was also a part of herself that resented Drew for sitting there wordlessly while she did everything to seem at least the littlest bit of normal. Because she cared enough of about the both of them and he was making her feel like her efforts were for nothing. Like protecting them wasn’t even worth it anymore.

Isobel sometimes believed that she cared too much and it was mistaken for her being a coward and stubborn—which she was definitely being to some extent—but the majority of it came from the overbearing emotions for the people she grew close to. And she feels extremely hard to the point where it feels too good to be true because she knows it can all be ripped from under her just like it has before. It forces her to run, to break away so viscerally it makes her seem heartless when really it’s the exact opposite.

In reality, she is hurting inside, she is missing the simple thought of Drew being hers and his kisses and his mindless touch on her skin. Most of all she regrets. She regretted walking away from him as soon as her back was turned, but she’d made a decision and she needed to stick with it because if she doubled back she would be in his arms taking back everything she’d said in the truck. Isobel still wanted that, to throw herself in his embrace and explain herself, but the more time passed the more difficult it was to convince herself to do. Time allowed doubt to creep in and for Drew to realize all the reasons he shouldn’t be with her.

“You guys can barely look at each other,” Chandler assessed, “Which is quite noticeable for someone who has witnessed the two of you drooling at the sight of each other literally a day ago.”

Isobel’s heart wrenched. A day ago. When she and Drew had went on what could be considered their first date. It went so well but the memories were overshadowed by how badly the night ended. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel Drew shifting in his seat. She wondered if their thoughts were the same in this moment. “-so are either of you going to tell me what happened last night?”

“No, Chandler.” Drew finally spoke, the deep, gravelly sound causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.

His little brother’s eyes rose at his choice in words, “You’re not denying that something happened?”

“It doesn’t matter if something happened. I’m telling you to mind your fucking business, Chandler.”

His harsh words pulled a gasp from her throat that caught his attention, his usual soft eyes filled with frustration that he was misdirecting at his brother. It was discomforting he could feel such negative things about her that it was so visible in his eyes, yet knowing that he at least felt something towards her was oddly settling for her, “Drew.” She scolded before she could stop herself, hating how Chandler was getting caught up in anger she’d caused.

Drew’s eyes could not help but soften when he looked at her undeniably pretty face and heard her melodic voice say his name. Although, there was still a flame present, one that she knew just pretending nothing happened wouldn’t put out.

“Isn’t this what you wanted Isobel? To ice everyone out so you don’t have to come to terms with your bull shit.” Drew knew he was being cold, yet he couldn’t stop the words from leaving his lips. He just hated that Isobel wouldn’t let him in, that she didn’t trust him enough to do so. She’d given him so much of her but knowing that she didn’t have faith in him or what they had with each other hurt him more than he expected. He was being a hypocrite because Drew wasn’t exactly handling all of his feelings like someone who was ready to be with a woman like Isobel—like someone his father or Cooper would be proud for her to be with.

“Drew, you’re being mean.” Isobel thickly swallowed. The wavering in her voice making him want to reach out and hold her until it returned back to its full ability, but he was the one causing her voice to break like this. “I’ve never seen you like this, and if I can pull that out of you then maybe last night was for the best.”

Isobel knew she was the blame for how things ended between them, but she refused to blame herself for how Drew was choosing to react to it, especially towards his brother. And she hated how unrecognizable he seemed sitting across from her, the same man that was just making her smile so fluidly she was beginning to associate the muscle movement and feeling of adoration with him.

“Chandler come on I told you we would go into town together today, we can walk.” Isobel stood and brushed her hands against her leggings. He was up in an instant and moving toward the coat rack to grab their coats. Her heart squeezed at the sight, he could be just as sweet as his brother if not more.

“It’s freezing, Isobel.” Drew countered.

His tone shifted fiercely with so many varying emotions and she heard each so clearly in her mind as if only she could heed and interpret every chord of his voice. She could hear that he was genuinely worried for her wellbeing in the frigid temperature, hurt that she would rather be out there than in the warmth of the cabin with him, and she heard how the sight of her attempting to leave him once more added to the already open wound.

Because Isobel was just as immature as he was she grabbed her coat from Chandler and walked out without sparing Drew another glance.

“Can we not actually go into town, you know I hate the cold.” Isobel immediately pleaded when the crisp wind wept against her face. She knew it would be cold like Drew said, but she needed to get out of there before they caused a scene in front of everyone.

“That’s cool with me, let’s just walk the trail around the cabin.” Chandler smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lead the way. She was glad to see him smiling, still desperately holding on to the hope that her and Drew wouldn’t affect everyone’s Christmas—that things wouldn’t change. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

When he first asked what was going on in the living room it scared her to think of having to detail anyone in on why they were being so weird, but now as they trudged through about a foot of snow she wanted to just tell him everything because it was starting to feel like if she didn’t get some sort of outlet she would combust. And if she didn’t confide in somebody now, she knew she never would, “Drew told me your father knows about me and him last night.”

“Shit, Chuck knows? That makes me feel a lot less special.”

“Chandler please don’t joke around right now.” Isobel mumbled but still couldn’t help but smile at the ground at how unserious he truly could be.

“Alright, alright sorry, when did he find out?” He asked.

Isobel’s mind returned to their conversation in the car like it had been doing all day. She had been the one to abruptly end it so she wasn’t completely aware of the details surrounding Charles knowing about their relationship, just that he supposedly had known since the day they got into town. Her entire body cringed at the revelation, at the fact that she thought she could hide something like this from her family. Isobel just didn’t want him to see her differently than he did before, she didn’t want any of them to.

“Remember when I used to tell you no boy would ever be good enough for you? Don’t you ever forget it.”

She froze at the memory of Charles randomly reminding her of her worth at the winter cocktail. She remembered how confused he left her as he walked off without an explanation. How she’d felt so disoriented until she turned around and saw Drew—that he’d been the one who was in Charles’ line of sight as he spoke to her.

Isobel could’ve connected the dots that night but she chose to ignore the odd moment between the father and son, but anyone who wasn’t blind with infatuation would’ve known what Charles meant.

“I didn’t really give him a chance to tell me before I broke things off.” She finally answered.

“Damn, Isobel you’re cold.” Chandler loved to be involved in gossip and people’s business and he could be extremely animated when retaining it, “Makes me kind of glad Drew’s on the receiving end and not me.”

“Chandler!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it! We both know I would let you treat me however you wanted.” He insisted and Isobel squinted her freezing eyelids back in response.

“-so you guys broke up, huh?”

Isobel and Drew weren’t together, they had a relationship but they weren’t official. They were merely two people messing around, two people who hadn’t even had sex yet. What they had was rudimentary, insubstantial, and nothing worth making a big deal over with their families. And despite all of this she still solemnly nodded her head because the grief she was feelings could only come from the demise of an actual couple.

Suddenly, she heard her father’s hardy laugh traveling from the backside of the cabin, and it made her hyper aware of how openly she was talking about this, “Come on let’s walk a little further down.”

“What’s so bad about everyone knowing, Isobel?” He asked the question she thought she knew the answer to, that she thought made sense the moment her and Drew crossed that boundary of friendship.

Now, after everything that’s happened, from the progression and abrupt ending of Isobel and Drew her reasoning didn’t quite make sense at all.

Because deep down it was in the best interest of Isobel to keep them hidden, not for the benefit of them both even if Drew did somewhat agree with her in the beginning.

“I don’t know, Chandler.” She groaned at the internal mental battle she was having, trying to articulate a worthy defense, “I just don’t want you guys to think of us differently especially if things don’t work out.”

She knew she was being presumptuous, already thinking the worse and banking on the failure of a real relationship with Drew, but that’s what she learned to do after getting her heart broken the last time. She’s never experienced anything different. “And you saw how Drew was acting back there, that’s not how things should be.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Izzy, but change is inevitable,” He sighed before pausing and finding the words to continue, “I hate that some douchebag took away your faith in family to love you no matter who you’re with—however you’re with them.”

Isobel couldn’t even deny his claim because it was true and it was just plain sad because she had let a man she hadn’t seen in years affect her just that much. She let what he did to her affect what she was building with another man.

“-Also ignore that temper tantrum he had in there, I would act the same way if I thought I lost you too.” His voice sincere as he gave her a gentle smile.

Isobel pulled him into a tight hug and pressed her face into his chest, which was nice because of the body heat but it wasn’t Drew. “You’re really sweet, whatever girl you swindle into a relationship is going to be lucky to have you.” Isobel squealed when his arms tightened around her shivering body.

“Really, Izzy? You have any friends that would be interested?” He joked above her head and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Stick to girls your age for now, Channy.” She looked up at him with a grin.

Eventually the wind picked up speed, running Isobel back inside while Chandler went around back to get on Richard and Charles’ nerves. As soon as she swung open the wooden door to the entrance of the cabin there was Drew with that same indecipherable look he’d been directing at her all day. Isobel was tired and was craving some time alone so she slid past him without any acknowledgment.

“Don’t put me in a position where I have to tell my brother to keep his hands off of you, Isobel.” Drew sneered at her retreating back

She slowly twisted her body around on the step she managed to get to as he spoke, her eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief at his words. It was crazy how one second she could feel so bad for him she was going to sulk alone in her room for making him deal with her insecurities and how in another she wanted to ring his neck.

“It’s pathetic how a girl who you haven’t even fucked yet can make you act so out of character.” She hissed and then continued upstairs to her bedroom.

Isobel didn’t cry when she shut the door and sat on the chest adjacent to her bed. She never felt the urge when it came to Drew, she never felt anything she went through was worth the tears not when things could be so much worse. It was easier to keep everything in for Isobel, to keep her pain in categories so she knew what she was dealing with, so her emotions didn’t come rushing out with no end.

She could feel the distance building between her and Drew, how every interaction was a tug and pull until one of them pushed the other to an unreachable edge. She wanted to erase how she reacted last night and then her fears would supersede her wants and when Drew decided to be a dick her needs when it came to him didn’t matter as much before.

So she shut down to the point where sitting across from Drew at dinner was hard, but not as hard as it could’ve been. Christmas Eve dinner was casual so they didn’t dress up once everything was prepared. She once again let a man affect something she thought to be sacred, happily spending the night before Christmas with her family. She was just as pathetic as he was.

Neither of them looked at the other at the table, and everything carried on as normal around them. Lora and Catherine lead the conversation as Charles’ listened with amused eyes and Richard roared in laughter at the simplest jokes. That seemed to be the things that pulled Isobel out of her Drew induced funk, hearing the familiar gossip and incessant howling from her father. Drew on the other hand seemed to still be withdrawn and quickly ate his food before he eventually excused himself from the table. Charles hadn’t spared her any glances in response unless he was actually directing conversation to her. Nothing felt different with him which abated her anxiety, but that was because they hadn’t addressed what was going—because he wasn’t aware the she knew he knew.

It was proving to make an extremely complicated situation to have love for any of the three Starkey men.

Their mothers insisted that they be the ones to clean up after dinner that ended up running later than expected, and Isobel didn’t argue knowing that was their way to get all the kids upstairs so they could wrap gifts to place under the tree. Alone once more in her room she was able to dwell on the possible reasons why Drew left dinner so quickly. She knew she was capable of doing this for hours, spiraling about all the ways she contributed to the nightmare of an evening she’d caused for Drew until she drifted off to sleep, so she did something Isobel before Drew would never even think of doing.

She called a friend.

Charlotte was the most qualified she thought to herself, she was logical, she wouldn’t judge her, and she most likely already knew what was going on if what she implied at the party before break said anything. As the phone rung, a part of of her desperately hoped, no prayed, that she wouldn’t answer, but she did because this was Charlotte and Charlotte was always there for her even when she thought she didn’t need anyone.

“Hello” Charlotte sung into the microphone as she always did, making Isobel smile at the greeting.

She didn’t realized how much she missed her friends until this very moment, “Hi, Char.”

“What’s wrong, Isobel? You’re usually too busy with family to call me on Christmas Eve.” Her friend asked, voice filled with a subtle amount of concern.

It had always been easier to tell Charlotte things compared to her other friends because she had a way of reading your voice and just simply listening to you for a few seconds or more and knowing something was wrong. She’d always appreciated that about her especially because she always struggled to express her feelings.

“Lottie, Drew and I started hooking up before break.” She blurted, not quite saying what was wrong but offering up a little of the secret she’d been keeping from her friends to see if it would piss her off and distract her enough to avoid talking about what she really needed to discuss.

“Is, you’re saying it like the two of you didn’t make it as obvious as possible before you left.”Charlotte’s smile was evident in her tone, “Thank you for telling me.”

Isobel’s eyes prickled with tears at the sound of her friend’s voice, at how genuinely sentimental she sounded. At how aware she was that it was truly hard for Isobel to simply talk about herself because if she did it felt like she would be burdening them to have to worry about her. But she didn’t let the tears fall, she blinked them away until nothing remained, just like she did with everything else. “You’re welcome.”

“That can’t be all, girl, you wouldn’t call over just that.” Charlotte spoke and every word caused her stomach to twist in regret for getting her involved in all of this despite how little she’d told her.

Isobel stayed quiet and Charlotte patiently waited, not checking to see if she was on the phone even when minutes of silence had passed. Finally, she thought about hanging up but that would make her worry more than just talking to her would. Nothing was worse than knowing someone you cared about was sad, but not knowing what was going on in their head. She knew that feeling all too well.

“Things were going well between us until there was a compromise and I broke things off.” She admitted.

“Why’d you do that if things were so good?” Charlotte questioned yet a knowing tone was present in her voice, like she knew just how destructive Isobel could be.

“I told you something came up-“

“Isobel.” Charlotte sternly interrupted obviously not in the mood for deflection.

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as a way to stop the words from tumbling out—it was easier to want to admit something than to actually do it. So she closed her eyes and just breathed until the words eventually came out, “I was scared, Charlotte, I don’t how to be with someone like that anymore.”

“So you made the decision for the both of you?” Charlotte sighed and Isobel remained silent. She hated hearing her irrational actions being vocalized because then she was forced to accept just how wrong she was. “Isobel, you have to let go at some point, just have fun if you really want to be with him—and I can tell just from your voice that you do.”

Isobel couldn’t think of any point in her life where she was good at letting shit go. She had always felt hard, loved hard, and completely immersed herself when it came to the people she cared for. Then her past relationship happened and it was like she sunk into a suffocating pool of all of her emotions and hurt from being so brutally betrayed. And instead of swimming to the surface and processing everything she pushed it all aside allowing her unresolved feelings to haunt her like a large wave tall and threatening to destroy her the moment she turned around to face it.

“But it’s not ‘just fun’ feelings I’m having for him.” She whispered as if barely saying it would make it any less true.

“I know, Is, how could they ever be just fun feelings when you’ve known each other for so long.” Charlotte stated, “That doesn’t mean you have to push him away though.”

This made Isobel smile, thinking of how her girls used that same excuse to explain to her why they would never go for Drew. Never did she expect to be so grateful for her friends being so respectful of their relationship that hadn’t even existed for all those years.

Their call ended up being cut short by Charlotte’s mother who needed help wrapping gifts for her little siblings, and while Isobel was relieved she didn’t have to talk about herself any longer, the thought of having to sit alone in her thoughts didn’t sound too appealing either. So she occupied herself by taking a long shower where she thoroughly exfoliated and shaved her entire body and stood under the steaming water until her fingers pruned. When she finally got out she lathered her body with lotion and slipped on her red, silk pajama shorts and its matching long sleeve button up.

Isobel didn’t go to her bed when she was done, no, she paced around her room and thought over everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. The good things, the sad things, and the unexpected things. It all clouded her mind until she was moving without thought, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor until she was standing in front of his door and slipping inside his room before she could change her mind.

Drew was sitting on the edge of his bed with his feet planted on the floor. He was wearing plaid pajama pants, but nothing else on his naked upper body. His arms and chest bare for her dark eyes to slide over with no restrictions. The lights were off but the light from the moon and sky shone through the windows. When his eyes looked up to meet her own she could see the light dancing around in his eyes.

Isobel walked toward him, and as angry as she was with him earlier she still felt that pull she’d always felt when it came to him. She felt it earlier in the day when he was trying to ignore her, when she was jogging up the stairs away from him like coward the night before, and now as his eyes bore into her brown ones like he was trying to decipher each fleck of color in them despite them being in the dark.

She stopped right in front of him, just a step away from being in between his spread thighs. “What do you want, Isobel?” The question was broad, it could mean anything but she took it as him not wanting to be bothered, so she took a step back to retreat. Then his hand was gripping her right hip as he pulled her into him and she actually was between his thighs, his body heat warming the bare skin of her legs, “Don’t leave, Isobel, answer me.”

She couldn’t answer because she didn’t have the words to articulate just how much she wanted from him in her mind, so she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his soft lips. He didn’t kiss her back at first, her lips moving against his still ones in slow pecks until he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, running his hand up her back to wrap around the back of her neck and pushing her further against his mouth. It all happened so quickly how Drew was somehow dominating the now messy kiss, how he yanked her down into his lap and bent her knees so they were on either side of his hips. Isobel’s touch was gentle as her soft hands grazed his shoulders and back and shy each time she swiped her tongue against his greedy one, but they didn’t clash.

‘I want to have fun’ she thought as he groaned into her mouth, that’s what she could’ve said when he asked her what she wanted but she was too occupied to say it now.

And Drew like always seemed to know what she needed even if she didn’t say it.

TABLE OF CONTENT:

PART SEVENTEEN

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