#and as she is leaving the rage on her face growing with every step and the music swelling and growing louder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 7 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah.

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!”

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety.

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets.

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home.

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows.

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong.

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look.

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things.

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow.

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself.

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though.

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown.

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.”

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light.

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know.

So, you do.

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t.

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you.

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think.

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you.

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate.

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier.

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts.

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?”

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you.

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.”

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout.

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking.

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright.

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression.

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind.

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight.

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself.

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach.

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan.

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #my writing #absolution

1K notes · View notes

nemo-writes · 2 months ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; pushed to your limits, you endure under your mother's ruthless training. but the quiet of night brings an unexpected reunion—and amid raw confessions and unspoken truths, you draw a firm line between your past and present, choosing your new path over the fractures of your old life.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The cold expanse of the stone training chamber greeted you as you stepped through the heavy wooden doors. The air was thick with the hum of residual magic, a constant reminder of the battles fought here before you. Flickering sconces cast elongated shadows that danced mockingly against the dark stone walls, their flames sputtering in anticipation.

Your Mother stood at the center, a sharp, commanding figure whose very presence demanded attention. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her piercing gaze fixed on you with the weight of expectations that could crush lesser souls.

“This will be your life until the ceremony,” she said without preamble, her voice sharp and unwavering, cutting through the heavy air like a blade. “If you fail here, you fail the coven.”

The words struck hard, meant to suffocate any flicker of defiance, but you squared your shoulders, refusing to falter. You stepped forward into the center of the chamber, the hum of magic growing louder with each step.

Training began immediately, and there was no mercy in her approach.

Waves of fire and wind lashed toward you, their force leaving you barely enough time to react. You conjured barriers of shimmering energy to counter her attacks, your hands moving instinctively in intricate patterns, your magic sharp and focused.

“Too slow!” she barked, her voice echoing off the walls as the ground beneath your feet rumbled ominously. Thorned vines erupted from the stone, their sharp tips lashing out with deadly precision. You sidestepped, barely avoiding the onslaught, and summoned a blade of pure energy to sever the attacking tendrils. The effort sent a sharp thrum of power through your bones, but you held steady.

Every spell she cast, every challenge she threw, was designed to break you—to punish you for leaving, for daring to defy her control. Yet you met her assaults with spiteful determination, the simmering rage within you sharpening your focus. Each successful counterstrike was a small victory, a reminder that you were not as fragile as she wished to believe.

“You’ve grown complacent,” she sneered, her tone icy. “The time you wasted outside the coven has softened you!"

Her words were daggers, meant to carve away your resolve, but you gritted your teeth and replied evenly, “And yet I’m still standing.” The flicker of amusement that crossed her face was fleeting, but it didn’t escape your notice.

The grueling session stretched on for hours, testing every ounce of your endurance. By the time she finally called for a halt, your body ached, your clothes were singed and dusted with soot, and sweat clung to your skin. Yet, despite the pain and exhaustion, you remained standing.

“Adequate,” your Mother said, her tone clipped as she assessed you with a critical eye.

You wiped at the sweat on your brow, your expression neutral as you replied, “I’ll do what’s required.”

She nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of your effort, before turning on her heel and striding toward the exit. Her long robes swept behind her as the heavy door swung shut, leaving you alone in the quiet chamber.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, letting the tension in your shoulders ease as you took in the stillness of the room. The scorched stone and scattered debris bore testament to your struggle, but it wasn’t defeat that lingered in the air—it was resolve.

You straightened, brushing off the grime from your clothes. There was still so much to do, so much to prove, but you would face it all, one step at a time.

. . .

Later that night, as exhaustion weighed heavily on you, Sybil pressed close to your side, her warmth grounding you in ways no magic ever could. You trudged down the hallway, the familiar path to your room offering a small sense of solace.

“Miss, please—wait!” a voice called out behind you, urgent and trembling.

You turned to see Marnie, the young maid who had delivered your clothes days earlier. Her pale face was illuminated by the faint glow of the lantern she held aloft, her chest heaving as though she had been running. She grasped your arm tightly before you could react, her fear palpable.

“There’s no time to explain,” she whispered, her voice strained. “You have to come with me. Now.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the desperation in her wide eyes silenced you. Without waiting for a response, she tugged at your arm, pulling you down a corridor you hadn’t walked in years.

Sybil let out a low growl but followed close, her alert posture mirroring your unease. The flickering lantern light in her grasp guided your way through twisting hallways that grew colder and darker the farther you went. The air grew damp, and the faint scent of earth replaced the sterile stillness of the upper floors.

Marnie led you to a narrow staircase descending into the underground levels of the manor. She hesitated at the threshold, her voice breaking as she urged, “Please. You’ll understand when you see.”

You followed her down the stone steps, the silence broken only by the distant drip of water and the soft scrape of your boots against the floor. The lantern’s light cast eerie shadows on the rough stone walls, making the underground space feel even more oppressive.

At the bottom of the staircase, an older woman stood waiting. Recognition flickered—it was Fiona, a maid from your childhood who had always been kind to you. Her sharp eyes studied you intently, worry etched into her lined face.

“Keep watch,” Fiona instructed the two younger maids at her side. They nodded nervously before scurrying off alongside Marnie, their hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

Fiona motioned for you to follow, leading you into a small, cluttered supply room. The air inside was stale, the shelves lined with long-forgotten supplies.

Then you saw him.

Johnny.

He sat by a small table near the far wall, his long hair held up in a messy ponytail. His once-distinctive mohawk was completely gone. In front of him sat a cup of tea, untouched and forgotten, its faint aroma mingling with the stale air of the room.

You froze in the doorway, your breath catching in your throat as your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. Of all the scenarios you had imagined, this—him—had never even crossed your mind. The sight of him here, in this place, after everything, left you reeling.

At the sound of your steps faltering, Johnny looked up, his tired eyes meeting yours. In them, you saw everything—pain, regret, longing, and something that looked like desperation. He stood slowly, his movements tentative as though he feared any sudden action might shatter what fragile thread held this moment together.

He murmured your name, his voice rough and low, holding the weight of everything unsaid. He took a hesitant step toward you, his entire being radiating fragility, a vulnerability you had never associated with him. He looked unlike anything you had ever seen before: broken and raw, stripped of the easy charm and boisterous energy that had once defined him.

But before he could take another step, Sybil moved.

The Borzoi stepped in front of you, her white fur bristling as she lowered her head and bared her teeth. A deep, rumbling growl rolled from her chest, reverberating in the small room as her sharp fangs caught the dim light. Her stance was protective and unyielding, her hackles raised as she planted herself firmly between you and the man she had once loved, just as you had.

Johnny stopped in his tracks, his face crumpling as though Sybil’s reaction struck him harder than any blow. For a moment, he stood there, his hands twitching at his sides as if unsure whether to raise them in surrender or let them fall in defeat.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The tension in the room was suffocating, the charged silence broken only by the low, menacing growl emanating from Sybil’s throat. And in that moment, all you could do was stare, the weight of the past colliding with the sharp sting of the present, leaving you rooted to the spot.

His fragile appearance fueled the fire rising in your chest. You took a sharp step forward, your voice cracking as it rose.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hissed, your words laced with equal parts panic and fury.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” you continued, your hands shaking as you gestured toward him. “Coming here—do you even understand what this place is?! You’ve put yourself in danger, Johnny, and for what?! To satisfy some... some whim?!”

Johnny raised his hands in a placating gesture, his face pale and his eyes pleading. “I had to see you. Just once—”

“No!” you snapped, cutting him off. “You had to stay away! Do you think this is a game?! Do you think they won’t find you?! That they won’t—” Your breath hitched as the weight of the situation bore down on you, threatening to overwhelm your already frayed nerves.

He took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out toward you. “Lass, please, I—”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you spat, your voice shaking but firm. His hand fell to his side, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. For a moment, he looked as though the world had crumbled beneath him, but you couldn’t afford to feel sympathy—not now, not here.

“Sit down,” you barked, pointing sharply to the chair he had just risen from. “Sit your ass down, Johnny!”

He hesitated, his mouth opening as if to protest, but the look in your eyes brooked no argument. Slowly, he sank back into the chair, his posture defeated, though his blue eyes remained fixed on you, filled with unspoken words.

Your attention snapped to Fiona lingering by the entrance. “You need to leave,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “Go back to your posts. I won’t have you involved in this any further.”

Fiona hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But, miss—”

“I said go!” you insisted, your voice breaking slightly but your resolve unshaken. “I’ll handle this.”

Fiona’s eyes softened with something like pity or concern, but she nodded reluctantly, the door creaked shut behind her, leaving you alone with Johnny.

You turned back to him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Johnny’s gaze never wavered from you, his presence simultaneously infuriating and heart-wrenching.

You exhaled heavily, the tension in your shoulders weighing you down as you pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Your legs felt weak, the exhaustion of the day compounding with the whirlwind of emotions his presence had brought. You glanced at Sybil, still poised like a sentinel by your side, her eyes never leaving Johnny.

“Stand down,” you murmured, your tone soft but commanding. She huffed, her tail flicking in irritation, but she obeyed, retreating a step. Even so, her ears remained pricked, and her gaze darted toward the door every so often, her alertness unshaken.

Johnny fidgeted in his chair, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. His lips parted, and the words began to spill out in a flood, his brogue thickened by his heightened state. “It was Leah—no, not her—she didn’t mean it, we know that now, but it wasn’t about her, it was about you, lass. The curse, it was a parasite—Alejandro said—and it... it wasn’t meant for us. It was for you.” His voice cracked, his sentences tangling as he struggled to get it all out. “They wanted to isolate you, to—to pull you away, and we—God, we didn’t see it—”

“Stop,” you cut him off sharply, raising a hand. His words faltered, his wide, desperate eyes meeting yours.

With a flick of your wrist, you waved at the cup of tea sitting untouched on the table before him. A faint shimmer of heat rippled over its surface, steam curling lazily upward as you warmed it with a simple spell. “Drink,” you ordered firmly. “No talking. Not until it’s gone.”

He blinked, caught off guard, but you held his gaze with unyielding intensity. Slowly, he reached for the cup, his hands trembling slightly. His first sip was cautious, his lips pursed as the heat hit him, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he settled into a slow, deliberate rhythm, sipping the tea in silence.

The quiet between you was heavy but oddly grounding. You leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed as you watched him. The act of drinking forced him to pause, the heat of the tea slowing him down as he took each sip with care. His breathing evened out gradually, and the wild, frantic energy that had gripped him when you first entered the room began to dissipate.

Sybil shifted beside you, her head resting on her paws but her sharp eyes never leaving Johnny.

When he finally set the empty cup down, he let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the world had momentarily lifted. He looked up at you, his eyes clearer but no less filled with emotion. You said nothing, your own expression unreadable as you waited for him to speak.

He began to speak, his voice quieter and steadier than before, though tinged with the raw emotion that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. He recounted the events that led him here—the unraveling of the pack, the curse that had ensnared them, and how everything had been orchestrated to isolate you. There were details you hadn’t known, fragments of the story that filled in gaps you hadn’t realized existed. He told you about the painstaking journey he had taken to track you down, the guilt that weighed on all of them, and how they were left trying to piece themselves back together in your absence.

You listened, your expression neutral, though your heart churned with a mix of emotions you refused to let surface. The words were significant, the pieces he shared adding clarity to the murky picture of what had happened, but in the end, none of it really mattered. Not now. The past was carved into stone, the choices made and the consequences paid.

Whatever answers he sought from you weren’t ones you could give him—not anymore.

When he finally stopped, silence fell between you, heavy and expectant. His hands fidgeted with the edge of the table, and his blue gaze flicked to yours, searching.

You leaned forward slightly, your hands resting on the table as you fixed Johnny with a firm, steady gaze. The flickering light from the overhead light cast soft shadows across his face, emphasizing the gaunt hollowness that hadn't been there before. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you raised a hand, cutting him off before he could start.

“No,” you said, your voice sharp yet steady. “My turn now.”

He froze, his lips pressing into a thin line as he sat back in his chair, his shoulders tense. His hands fidgeted on the table, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m not coming back,” you began, your tone resolute. “Not to the pack, not to that town, not to the life I left behind. If you can tell Laswell that, she can sell off everything I left. Maybe Farah or Alex will want something—it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Johnny flinched as though you’d struck him, his eyes widening slightly. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered hoarsely. “You can’t mean—”

“I do,” you cut him off again, your voice soft but unyielding. “I’ve made my decision, Johnny. I’m staying here. I’m taking leadership of the coven.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if trying to process what you’d just said. His hands curled into fists, body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

“You don’t have to—” he began, his voice rising, but you cut him off with a sharp glare.

“Don’t you dare,” you snapped, your voice low but venomous. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t have to do this. You think I’m being forced? That I don’t know what I’m doing?” You leaned closer, your eyes narrowing as your anger flared. “I paid the price to heal Leah.”

Johnny froze, his breath catching in his throat. “What?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I paid the price,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly but no less firm. “Leah—she’s alive, she’s whole, because of me. And maybe that’s for the best after everything.”

His face crumpled, his hands clenching tighter as he leaned forward, his lips parting to say something—anything—but no words came out. The guilt and anguish in his eyes were almost too much to bear, but you didn’t let it break you.

“You’ll relay this to the pack,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “Tell them I’m staying here. That I’m rebuilding my life, in my way, on my terms. And please...” You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat as you struggled to keep your composure. “Don’t come back. Any of you. My heart has endured too much already, and this—this is the least you can do for me. All of you.”

Johnny’s head dropped. For a moment, he looked utterly defeated, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a physical force.

“I’ll tell them,” he finally murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ll tell them. But—” His voice broke, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. “You’ll always have us, lass. No matter where you are.”

You said nothing, your expression unreadable as you leaned back in your chair, your hands falling to your lap. Sybil nudged your leg gently as you tried to keep the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at bay.

Johnny sat there for a long moment, before he finally stood, his movements slow and reluctant. His gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer, as if committing you to memory, before he turned and headed for the door.

He paused at the door, his hand resting on the frame, his shoulders hunched under the weight of everything left unsaid. Slowly, he turned back to you, his eyes glistening with tears that clung stubbornly to his lashes. His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse, trembling with emotions he could barely contain.

“Can I... touch you?” he asked, his words cracking under the strain. “Just once. One last time.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your gaze flicking to Sybil, who remained at your side, her head raised and alert. But Johnny stood there, his hands shaking as if even the question itself was too much to bear.

You nodded, a small, reluctant gesture and stood up. “Alright,” you whispered. “But just this once.”

He stepped forward hesitantly, as though afraid you might change your mind, his movements slow and careful. When he reached you, his trembling hand reaching up to touch your face. His fingers were rough but gentle as they traced the curve of your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. He closed his eyes, his breath shuddering as he pressed his forehead briefly against yours.

Then, as if unable to help himself, he dipped his head, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. He brought you snug against himself, one arm wrapped around your waist, and the other cradling the back of your head.

You shivered, the familiar sensation of him so close stirring a wave of emotions you couldn’t quite control. But you didn’t pull away, allowing him this moment, this chance to hold onto what had already been lost.

“Your scent,” he murmured against your skin, his voice breaking as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I just... I needed to remember. Keep it close.”

You stiffened slightly as he shifted, his lips brushing close to your face, but you pressed a hand lightly against his chest, stopping him. “No,” you said softly, firmly.

He didn’t argue, didn’t try to push further. Instead, he drew back slowly, his tear-filled gaze locking with yours for a final, heart-wrenching moment. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow and gratitude.

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the exit, his steps slow and heavy, as if every movement cost him. You stayed rooted to the spot, watching as he disappeared through the doorway and into the darkened corridors beyond.

When you finally stepped outside to see him off, the sky was painted with the soft hues of the encroaching dawn. Johnny’s figure was barely visible as he disappeared into the edge of the forest, his long hair catching the faint light before he vanished entirely into the shadows.

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks, hot and unbidden, as you stood there in the stillness of the morning. Sybil pressed her nose to your hand, a soft, comforting whine escaping her as you wiped your face roughly and turned back to the house.

You didn’t look back again. There was nothing left to see.

banner credit

486 notes · View notes

luvsupa · 7 months ago

Text

SUKUNA’S JEALOUS!?

tags: trueform!sukuna x servant!reader, heian era, sukuna gets jealous, fluff, lil angst, tension, sukuna is very needy for attention but doesn’t wanna say nothinn, w.c: 615

a/n: btw this is not apart of my sukuna series! just separate 😌

+ likes and reblogs are appreciative!!

sukuna is a very jealous man. he never likes to admit it or show his true feelings; he’d rather kill himself than confess.

but there he is, his anger radiating in the garden of his estate. the servants feel his menacing aura, fearing they will be killed just by looking at him.

sukuna stands tall, arms crossed, staring dead at you on the other side of the garden, watching the way you giggle at one of his servant’s jokes.

nothing’s funny, he thinks. the only funny thing is him slicing—

“m-my lord…” one of the servants nervously says as she kneels before sukuna. one of his eyes shifts to the trembling servant while his three other eyes fixate on you. the servant chokes up on her words as his crimson eyes look as if they will kill her in an instant.

“speak.”

“you’re… y-you’re crushing the garden, my lord,” the servant stammers, pointing out the king of curses’ mistake. sukuna looks down, noticing his large foot has squashed the fruits and vegetables growing in the soil.

just as sukuna is about to respond, his ear catches another one of your soft, beautiful laughs. all four of his eyes immediately shift to the sound as he nearly kills everyone in close proximity.

there you are, being swiftly picked up by his male servant as he spins you around, showing off his strength in a flirty way.

sukuna’s jaw tightens, his claws digging into his palms. he imagines the servant’s head rolling across the garden, the laughter replaced by screams.

he steps forward, ignoring the servant below, crushing more of the garden as the earth beneath him trembles slightly, causing the servants nearby to flinch and scatter.

your laughter stops abruptly as you notice sukuna’s approach. the playful atmosphere vanishes, replaced by an intense, suffocating tension. the servant carefully places you down, his face paling as he bows deeply to sukuna.

“my lord,” you say softly, trying to ease the tension, bowing down in respect. “we were just—”

“silence,” sukuna growls, his eyes never leaving the servant. “you both are very fortunate i haven’t killed you already.”

“my lord, i ask you for your forgiveness,” the male servant pleads, his voice trembling as he avoids eye contact with sukuna.

“get out of my sight,” sukuna commands. the servant scrambles away, rushing back to the estate. you look up at sukuna, his fiery eyes filled with a dangerous rage that makes you shiver, afraid you might be next.

“my lord—”

“i want you to clean every inch of my estate before the night. this includes the garden, servants’ quarters, kitchen—”

“m-my lord, that’s impossible. night is falling soon,” you interrupt, protesting against the unreasonable demand. sukuna’s eyes widen slightly, stunned by being interrupted for the first time, especially by someone beneath him.

his arms drop from their crossed position, and his demeanor shifts. a smirk curves his lips as he steps closer, the air crackling with a mix of frustration and desire.

“you think you can defy me?” sukuna says lowly, one of his hands caressing the side of your face. his touch is both firm and tender, sending shivers down your spine. “you interrupt me, ignore my demands, and act how you please in my home.”

he leans in, his breath hot and tantalizing against your ear. “finish your duties and meet me in my chamber,” he murmurs. “or maybe you’d prefer to stay right here with me, where everyone can witness just how desperately i crave you?”

his thumb trails over your lips, lingering with a possessive manner. “don’t keep me waiting,” he purrs, his voice dripping with need.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yes, my lord.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #true form sukuna #jjk sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk angst

1K notes · View notes

little-diable · 7 months ago

Text

A Broken Down Bike and Racing Hearts – Benny Cross (smut)

Well, I watched The Bikeriders yesterday, and I did warn y'all. I simply have to write for Benny (maybe also Johnny?). I haven't read any Benny fics yet, so this may have been done before. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Benny's bike breaks down right in front of the reader's house, who invites him in to stay the night while a thunderstorm rages outside.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, choking, slight possessiveness

Pairings: Benny Cross x fem!reader (2k words)

Contains no spoilers!

Her eyes followed his every movement. It had only been a handful of minutes since he had broken down with his bike right in front of her house. No words had been shared between them so far. While he kept fumbling with different parts of his bike, she kept smoking her cigarettes, studying the handsome man with piercing eyes.

She didn’t look away once, not as he seemed to give up on fixing his bike with a sigh, not as he placed a cigarette between his plush lips with his gaze set on (y/n). Something about him drew her in. Perhaps it was the cut that told a story of brotherhood, of family united by something thicker than blood. Perhaps it was simply the handsome face she wouldn’t mind seeing every now and then. Whatever it was, it urged her on to finally part her lips.

“I doubt you’ll manage to leave this place tonight.” Her gaze flickered up to the dark sky, knowing that it’d start raining any minute now. The guy wordlessly followed her gaze while blowing out a thick blue cloud of smoke matching hers.

“Is that an invitation to stay at your place for the night?” His voice was raspy, perfectly matching the growing smirk finding its way to his lips.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know about you bikers, it is that it’s better to have you as a friend than as an enemy. And who knows, maybe I’ll need your help one of these days too.” (Y/n) rose to her feet. She allowed herself to study him for a second or two before turning on her heel to make it back inside her house. The second she crossed the threshold, it began raining as if God himself were urging the stranger to follow her, knowing that this very match would endure all following obstacles.

The sound of his boots meeting her wooden stairs left her smiling, forcing her to turn back to him as he softly closed the door behind himself. He stepped out of his boots, ran a hand through his golden locks, and let his eyes wander.

“I’m (y/n).” She softly spoke her name while her feet carried her towards her open kitchen, reaching for two bottles of beer.

“Benny.” It was a simple reply–just his name–nothing more, and yet she didn’t need anything else. She reached the bottle out for him to take, trying to bite down the sharp intake of air wanting to leave her as their hands met. He was a stranger, nothing more than a pretty face, but the excitement his closeness pushed through her, left (y/n) wondering how this night may play out, knowing that she wasn’t one to shy away from an opportunity like this.

“Are you hungry, Benny? You must have been on the road for a while.” Benny only nodded his head as he took another sip of his beer. He was unusually cautious for a biker–at least in comparison to those she had met before–but (y/n) didn’t mind his calm demeanour, grateful for the comforting feeling he emanated.

“Do you live here alone?” He plopped down on her kitchen island, letting his feet dangle in the air while he watched her cook. The moment had something homey to it, a domestic atmosphere she hadn’t ever experienced before, torn from a broken home at an early age. Sometimes she had imagined a life like this, with a husband close to love her, to appreciate her like she had always craved.

“I do. It’s just me around here.” The hum leaving him forced her gaze towards him, unable to bite down her smile at the way he studied her. He seemed to be just as fascinated with her, drawn to the woman who had invited a stranger into her house solemnly because she knew saying no to a biker could end badly for her. But Benny was different–that much she knew already.

“Must get lonely.” Her tongue kissed her teeth at his comment, trying to hold back from dumping the confusing emotions she had always felt on him. It did get lonely from time to time. But there was no escaping this situation, at least not for now, and she had made her peace with it, grateful that she could live however she wanted to.

“You get used to it. What about you? Who are you running away from?” The silence that followed her question grew thicker with every passing moment. She was patient, waiting for him to find the strength to speak while she finished cooking their food. The past years had taught her enough about trauma, stress, and fear to understand how much people struggled with whatever it was they were running away from.

Whatever it was that Benny couldn’t speak of, she wouldn’t force him to let her in, not when she could offer him a safe space for a few hours at least.

……

“I could take you on a ride as soon as it’s fixed.” Benny was sitting on her couch, feet placed on the small table, as he was nursing another beer. She was sitting close, feet placed in his lap, breaking through the layers that had turned them from strangers to somewhat friends already.

It had taken Benny almost an hour to let her in, to tell her of the struggles he had faced, the people he was running from, and the fear he couldn’t shake, no matter how fast he was driving, close to bidding this life goodbye. She had listened to his every thought, keeping quiet while he rambled on, finding safety in her closeness.

“Careful, Benny, you’d have to keep me around for that.” The grin she shot him left him laughing, head rolling back to give the raspy sound enough room to break through him. It was a beautiful sight, leaving her buzzing with heat flushing through her that begged her to move closer.

Something was lingering between the two, binding them closer together while both waited for the right moment to cross the last line between them.

“Would that be so bad?” It was close to a whisper, rolling off his tongue while he turned his head back towards her. (Y/n) felt heat rise up her spine, whispering to her to give her darkest and deepest longings enough room as if she was drunk off her face, unable to hold back. Benny held a special kind of magic over her, an unfamiliar sensation she couldn’t pinpoint just yet.

“I don’t think you’re one for keeping women around. And I don’t want to leave this place.” He shuffled around, placed his bottle down before leaning closer towards her. His bright eyes danced over her face while his ringed hand found her cheek, cupping it softly. Benny’s thumb ran over her parted lips, unable to hold back his groan as she sucked his digit into her mouth.

And then everything happened all too quickly. One second he was staring down at her, and the next she was sitting on his lap, lips locked with his. It wasn’t a soft kiss; it was rough, urged on by their need to be touched, to feel some form of love they hadn’t experienced in months, perhaps even years.

Trembling fingers worked on one another’s clothes, letting the fabrics drop on the ground while their mouths explored the places that hadn’t been touched in a while. Moans rumbled through them, filling her living room as the last piece of clothing found its way to the ground.

(Y/n)’s heart was racing, pounding in her chest while Benny couldn’t help but marvel at her body; at every inch he was now fortunate enough to touch. His fingers felt cold against her heat as he pressed her back down on the couch, brushing through her folds to spread her arousal on her pulsing bundle. All while (y/n) tugged on his golden curls with her back arched off the couch and her toes curled in anticipation.

“You’re fucking beautiful, doll.” She barely picked up on his words, too far gone to focus on the praises Benny spoke. His fingers moved fast enough to make black dots appear in her vision, leaving her eyes to flutter while her orgasm crept closer and closer. He dipped his head down to suck marks into the soft skin of her chest, letting his teeth graze her skin to make her feel as if she was burning, set ablaze by his touch.

“Benny,” she choked on his name. Her thighs were trembling, body aching for the relief he was about to push through her. She wanted to speak more words, wanted to tell him how good he was making her feel, but she didn’t manage to, interrupted by the loud moan clawing through her.

She came with his name rolling off her tongue, spoken like a mantra she had learned by heart years ago. He kept moving his fingers, circling her pulsing bundle for a few more seconds before letting go. They held eye contact, staring at one another with growing smiles that were glued to their lips. The sound of thunder rang in their ears, followed by the heavily falling rain that rushed down her windows, adding even more intensity to the atmosphere lingering in the room.

Benny didn’t speak a warning before he flipped her around, only to press her chest against the armrest of her couch. She heard him spit into his palm and heard the soft groan rumbling through him as he pumped his cock a few times before finally pushing into her from behind. Both groaned in unison at the way he pushed into her, spreading her walls around his twitching cock.

“Feels so good, Benny, move, please.” He instantly gave in to her begging, pulling out of her only to push back in with more force. It didn’t take him long to find a comfortable rhythm, fast enough to leave her choking on gasps, slow enough to give the two enough time to savour every passing second.

“You belong to me now, doll. I can’t let you go again.” (Y/n) didn’t properly understand what he meant by these words, too focused on the feeling of his hand finding her throat, pulling her into his chest. He tightened his grasp on her throat to hold on to her while he fucked them closer towards their high, knowing that they’d give in soon.

“Tell me that you’re mine.” He murmured the words against the back of her neck, while he left yet another mark that wouldn’t fade for a while. She was trembling in his grasp, struggling to reply while he softly choked her, heightening her senses. “Speak, (y/n).”

“I’m yours, fuck, Benny, I’ll always be yours.” A satisfied hum left him at her words–a hum that gave her the final push to throw herself over the edge. She came again with a moan, with squeezed-together eyes and her teeth buried in her lower lip. Benny kept snapping his hips against her behind, chasing his own high with his moans vibrating on her skin.

A deep “Fuck” left him as he came, pulling out of her just in time to paint her behind with his cum. Both were panting, holding onto the couch while they came down from their highs, unable to see through the hazy fog just yet.

“I mean it, doll, we belong together now.” He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder before he rose to his feet to disappear from her sight. Her mind was racing, her heart was pounding, but no matter how confused she was, deep down she knew that she wouldn’t want to let go of him, following Benny wherever he’d take her.

#Benny Cross smut #Benny Cross imagine #Benny the bikeriders #Austin Butler smut #the bikeriders #Austin butler #the bikeriders imagine #Austin butler imagine

457 notes · View notes

magicalqueennightmare · 1 year ago

Text

The Hybrid's Little Witch

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Just a one shot of Klaus and his little witch giving into their feelings

Fluffy (ish) smut

“Don't you fucking turn your back on me!” You were so angry you were nearly shaking. You could feel your powers rolling just under your skin, threatening to slip out but you maintained your hold on it, telling yourself no matter the anger you held that the hybrid in front of you was indeed friend not foe.

Klaus spun to face you and a part of you was surprised to have blue eyes looking back at you. You'd expected the golden eyes of his beast to be looking back at you. “Why are you even still in New Orleans? You did your job little witch. Hayley and Hope are safe, any coven that was a threat to them have been eliminated”

“I don't answer to you Klaus and you don't own New Orleans. Hayley called me here to help protect her daughter or are you forgetting she's one third witch? She needs someone here to help with all aspects of who she is as she grows and Freya shouldn't be forced to stay in one place. I'm not leaving”

In a single heartbeat he was in front of you, hands on either side of your head effectively boxing you in if you didn't want to use your powers on him. A portion of your brain registered the fact that you had a wall at your back and a hybrid in front of you but the majority of your brain refused to cower.

He wanted anger, wanted rage, you'd give it to him. While it was true things had calmed down but after everything you knew being complacent was a mistake. He leaned down close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear as he spoke “Her daughter? Are you forgetting that Hope is my daughter as well?”

You turned to look at him noticing how close your faces were before raising your chin defiantly to look him dead in the eye “and are you forgetting the number of times I've risked my life to ensure she was born, to ensure she stays alive and healthy? I'm owed a little slack even from you”

Damn him a smirk slipped onto his face as he said “Is that it little witch? You think I haven't shown you proper respect?” The last year came crashing down onto you at that moment, every time you'd faced a new threat, every moment you'd swallowed the pain so Hayley wouldn't know what protecting her and Hope was doing to you and every ounce of loneliness you'd felt your entire life mixed in with your anger. Anger that was now pointed at Klaus whether it was earned or not.

Your magic uncurled without you having to think about it and he stumbled back from you as if he'd been tased, hand splayed out across his chest. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a tiny bit of tension leaving your shoulders despite knowing you may very well be about to fight with the father of your best friend's child, the hybrid you were so damn attracted to yet refused to act on it.

“You haven't Klaus. I've done nothing but fight for your family since the moment I stepped foot in New Orleans. Yet you walk around like I'm a pet Hayley picked up and dragged home. I may not be as old as your family but I've seen hundreds of years pass. I could be anywhere in the world and I chose to be here. I get it, your past dealings with witches have been shit but I'm owed the respect I've earned even if you fucking hate me”

He rubbed his chest a moment and your eyes flickered towards the length of skin that showed from the unbuttoned henley, the long expanse of his neck and the curve of his collarbone distracting you. Jesus christ, the reasoning behind Hayley getting pregnant was crystal clear but you and he were hardly friends. He hated witches and that's what you were.

Another smirk slipped onto his face and he shook his head “That's where you're wrong, love. I don't hate you” you scoffed not letting your guard down but curious as well “How am I wrong?” He took a step towards you and you shook your head so he stopped, holding both hands up to say he wasn't coming any closer. “I don't hate you. Quite the opposite in fact”

You let just enough of your magic seep out to make the air in the room thicken just slightly “Cut the shit Klaus and say what you mean” he looked you up and down before running his thumb across his bottom lip “I've been trying to ignore how much I want my child's Godmother”

You felt your stomach flip “What?” He shrugged “You're beautiful, Intelligent, lovely with Hope. The fact that you're absolutely dangerous just adds to the allure. Hell if Elijah hadn't fallen for Hayley and Kol wasn't head over heels for a witch himself I'd have to fight them for your attention more so than I do as you being their friend”

“So, what baiting me into argument after argument was your form of flirting?” You zapped him again from pure frustration and he growled before moving faster than any other vampire you'd seen. He had you backed against a wall with your arms pinned over your head and was staring into your eyes “Tell me one time you don't want me as much as I want you little witch. That's all it takes”

Your chest was heaving like you'd run a marathon and you knew he could hear your heartbeat but in that moment you didn't care to be embarrassed of it. He was right, you wanted him. “And if I do want you?” You asked with a slight smile. He returned your smile before saying “Then I do this” he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, flicking his tongue against yours and swallowing the moan that the action pulled out of you.

You struggled to free your hands but his grip held tight. He pulled back to look at your eyes “Tell me what you want” you swallowed twice before saying “I want you to fuck me Klaus, hard” the smile he gave you made heat shoot straight to your stomach “Thought you'd never ask” in one fluid motion he released your hands and scooped you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

—----------

You hooked your arms around his neck and he moved from your lips down across your jaw then to the sensitive flesh of your neck. He rolled his hips against yours and a gasp left you at feeling his hardening cock through the layers of jeans between it and your sensitive core. When he bit down just below your pulse point you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders “Bed Klaus. You're not fucking me against a door dammit”

He chuckled against your skin “See? That dominating side of you. Can't wait to have you begging underneath me” You glared at him “I swear on everything” in a blur of movement he was up on the stairs and in his bedroom kicking the door shut with his foot then putting you down on your feet but backing you against the door in the same fluid motion.

He was everywhere, lips and teeth teasing your neck and jaw, hands roaming across what of your body he could reach while his hips rutted into yours pulling low moans from you at the action. One hand slid up to wrap around your throat as his mouth claimed yours. Your hands found his chest, clawing at his shirt, begging for more access to him “Eager are we?” He teased before leaning back from you enough to pull his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him.

He reached for your shirt but stopped with his hands just shy of it. He glanced at your face for permission and the moment you nodded he pulled the shirt over your head and a grin slipped onto his face that made your knees weaken “Oh I'm going to enjoy this” another quick kiss to your lips then he moved to your neck, biting down on the spot he previously had which made you moan his name.

—----------

Instead of stopping he continued down, when he got to your still clothed breasts he reached behind you with one hand. You felt the clasp give before your bra was pulled from your body and tossed somewhere in the room. He reached for one of your breasts, teasing the nipple between his fingertips. Your breath was already coming in fast pants. It'd been a little too long since you had sex and the feelings that the hybrid was bringing out of you with so little action so far was a bit alarming.

When he lowered his mouth to the other one, your back arched off the door. He barely grazed your nipple with his teeth but you felt your legs quiver. “Love, when was the last time someone touched you? Other than your own hands?” He murmured and you closed your eyes in an attempt to slow your breathing “Before I came to New Orleans”

You half expected to see teasing in his eyes when you opened yours but instead there was a hunger there “Then I'll have to make sure you're satisfied” you weren't sure what he meant before he sank to his knees in front of you. “Klaus” you tried to find your voice but he simply tapped your left leg “Lift your foot”

—------------

Within moments your boots and jeans were off your body leaving you in just a simple pair of black lace panties. “May I?” He asked and you nodded. He slid them off your legs and smiled up at you and gods the heat that flooded throughout your body at that moment could've torched the states between Louisiana and the Atlantic.

He dropped one of your legs over his shoulders before his head dipped between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was tentative, testing. When your fingers burying themselves in his hair was the answer he dove in. He was like a man starved and he meant to devour you to feed the hunger.

When his teeth grazed your clit you would've collapsed had it not been for his grip on you “Oh fuck Klaus” he added two fingers in with his tongue, curling them up to add pressure to that spot deep inside of you and that was all it took to push you over that edge. The burst of pleasure made your vision go soft around the edges. He worked you through your orgasm and only let up when you begged softly “Please Klaus, too much. Too much”

He rocked back on his heels, keeping two fingers inside of you to tease at your still sensitive clit “Already begging? I thought more of you” you knew your words would fall flat considering your legs were shaking but you still felt the need to say “Fuck you Klaus”

He buried his fingers to the knuckles and you moaned loudly “I believe that's where we're headed love” he pulled his fingers out and held your gaze as he sucked them into his mouth, rolling his tongue around them “Heavenly”

—--------------

He stood and when he got to his feet he picked you up, leaving you no choice but to wrap your still shaking legs around his slim waist. He walked over to the bed and laid you down almost gingerly. You looked up and realized he was still wearing jeans “You're overdressed Mikaelson” he grinned “Then by all means, come relieve me of them”

You sat up and moved to the end of the bed, pulling him to you by the front of his jeans. You made quick work of the zipper, pushing them off his hips. He helped you kick them off along with his boots. He was left in a pair of black boxers and the way his cock was straining against the material made your mouth water. “Take what you want” he spoke and you slid your hand below the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his hard cock.

He groaned lightly as you began to stroke him. When you pushed his boxers down to be able to lick a strip from the base of his cock up to the head, rolling your tongue around to collect the beads of precum leaking out.

You sank your mouth down on him, taking as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat you twisted your tongue around him as you worked your mouth. You could feel his hips tense and knew he was trying to hold back from thrusting into your mouth. He spoke your name twice before stepping back to pull himself free of your lips.

—-------------

“Get in the bed” you scooted up to the pillows and he smiled, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it lazily as he took in the sight of you laid out completely bared in his bed. He licked his lips then climbed into the bed.

There was almost an animalistic quality to him, a predator finally catching his prey. He started at your hips and worked his way up your body. You knew even with your healing you'd still be littered with marks from his lips for a day or two and something stirred inside you at the thought of carrying marks from Klaus.

When he got to your mouth he caught your lips in a bruising kiss that made your fingers bury into his hair. You felt his hard cock against your inner thigh and pulled back from the kiss “Fuck me already Klaus”

His hand slipped between you and you felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance before he sank himself inside of you. The feeling of him stretching you caused you to close your eyes tightly. Klaus wasn't exactly small. After a moment the stretch gave way to pleasure.

He peppered kisses across your jaw and chest until you opened your eyes and met his. He took that as a go ahead and pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you. You gasped and he grinned. “You wanted it hard little witch?”

You nodded “Please” he chuckled and rolled his hips in a tight circle, watching your face as he did so. “Quit teasing Hybrid” you warned and he nodded before setting a punishing pace.

You were so damn close to that edge and wanted nothing more than to fall over but Klaus slowed his pace forcing your eyes to fly open “What the fuck?” He shrugged “You want to come, keep your eyes on me little witch. I want to watch you fall apart”

You nodded after a moment and he resumed the pace he knew you liked and when his fingers slipped between you to rub tight circles on your clit it took everything in you to keep your eyes open “Let me feel it” you felt that pressure burst and fell over that edge, your eyes watering in an urge to close them against the pleasure rolling through you.

You could feel his hips falter slightly and knew he was close. He buried his face into your neck and you felt his fangs tease the skin there, not biting but just applying enough pressure to make you clench around him as he came burying himself deep inside of you.

—-------------

When he drew back he smirked at you before catching your lips in one final kiss before pulling out of you. He moved to lay down next to you and pulled you over on his chest. “What now?” You asked once your breathing had returned to normal “Well this by far more enjoyable than fighting”

You raised your eyes to him and laughed “Are you really proposing we start fucking regularly?” He shrugged “I want you, you apparently want me. Come on love it doesn't have to be some epic meant to be thing but this was enjoyable for us both and we have to get along for Hayley and Hope's sake”

You shook your head and started to laugh but it turned into a yawn. “Get some sleep” he urged and even though you knew you should leave you found your eyes drifting shut. You were satisfied, warm and like it or not safe in Klaus’ arms.

#klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson smut #the originals fanfiction #tvd fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

simp2537 · 11 months ago

Note

could I request a fem!reader x slight dark percabeth were percabeth and reader aren’t really dating yet but percabeth are and they all went clubbing and reader’s been teasing them both all night and they are slightly buzzed (not drunk, just buzzed) and then reader goes to the bathroom and they corner her and welp.. smut

Buzzed

a/n : Instead of a bar I made it a bonfire at camp. Also changed it from a bathroom to them leading her into the woods. Hope y’all enjoy.

Warnings: dubcon, drunk reader, semi public smut ( the woods but no one is around.) oral and fingering, praise kink, slight chocking, dark! Percabeth, Yandere behavior

All Characters are aged up to 18 plus!

dark! Percabeth x fem! Reader

The raging bonfire crackled as the daughters of Aphrodite danced around it. With her sisters she swayed her hips in an erotic motion. The younger kids were all in bed and the older demi-gods celebrated.

Her e/c eyes trailed around the crowds as she watched people watch her. She danced with one of his sisters as she noticed the watchfully gazed of Percy and Annabeth. Annabeth’s eyes were shining with amusement while Percy’s were dark with lust.

Percy slowly made his way behind her and grab her hips. He pull Y/n into him and she giggled softly. The red cup in her hand emptied, most like the spiked punch that she and her siblings made. Percy took the cup and sat it down as they pair began to dance together.

Percy’s hand went up from his hips to her neck. He held tightly onto her.

“Hey there pretty girl.” Y/n giggled at his words. She stared up at him with a dazed look.

“Percy!” She cheered with a smile. Percy guided her face to look directly at Annabeth.

“Be a good girl and look at Annabth as you dance.” Y/n did just that. As she moved her hips against Percy she kept her eyes on Annabeth. Annabth solely moved through the crowds with a smirk as she watched. Percy groaned softly every time she would brush against his rock hard cock.

Slowly Annabeth disappeared through the crowds and Y/n pouted softly. Percy slowly brought her away and began leading her through the woods. Y/n giggled as she followed after him. Making it to a clearing Percy placed Y/n’s back against his chest and gently parted her leg, resting his thigh in between her legs as she whined softly.

Percy slowly kisses up her exposed neck and collarbone. His hand dipped under her skirt rubbing at her panties. She whined slowly her head falling back on Percy’s shoulder. A wet spot began to form as he rubbed on her pearl. As Percy went to take off her panties and something snapped for Y/n

“What about Annie? We can’t.” Y/n muttered softly, Percy merely cooed at her. His finger slipped to her bundle of nerves, rubbing soft circles on her.

“She’ll be here later pretty girl.” Percy moves Y/n’s panties aside as he moves her hair off her shoulder and kisses her neck. Her moans grow as Percy plays with her pearl, slowly outline the lips of her clit with the tip of his middle finger. Percy pushes his middle finger in roughly, slowly taking it almost out all the way and pushing in roughly again.

He continues this a few more times before inserting his ring finger in her heat, now going at a steady pace. Y/n gasps, moaning loudly her eyes rolling back.

“You’re so wet for me, pretty girl.” Percy whispered into her ear. He grabs at her ass and pulls his fingers out, leaving her whimpering for more. She was so close to finishing all over his fingers. Annabeth steps out from the darkness of the woods, she commands y/n to turn around for her. Y/n obeys and turns around still begging for more, Percy steps back with a smirk and lets Annabeth have her turn with y/n. She kneels in front of y/n while grabbing her thigh and lifting it onto her shoulder, slowly lapping at her juices.

Annebeth moaned, shimmer waves of pleasure through Y/n. Her whines grew louder as Percy supported her from behind. Softly whispering into her ear.

“Such a good girl for us, isn’t she?” Percy mused as he slowly kissed down her exposed neck.

“The prettiest girl too.” The constant praise was sensed Y/n over the edge. The coil in her stomach tightened as Annebeth sucked in her pearl.

“Annie…” Y/n gasped as Percy wrapped his hand out her neck. Annebeth lapped at her more fiercely, eager to consume her nectar. With a loud moan escaping from her mouth, Y/n’s vision clouded as she came all over Annebeth face.

Annebeth licked the cum off her lips and cleaned Y/n up with her tongue. Y/n whined, her cunt overstimulated and puffy. Percy helped her slide off Annebeth, holding her against him as she wobbled. Percy kissed Annebeth, tasting Y/n all over her.

Annebeth smirked softly as she helped Y/n to lay in the soft grass. She pulled off her shirt, skirt, and ruined panties. The lace underwear was folded over top of her other clothes. Percy quickly stripped and positioned himself in between Y/n’s legs.

Annebeth parted them, helping keep her thigh open for Percy. Y/n whined softly, her brain still fuzzy from her orgasm and the alcohol she had earlier.

“Now, now pretty girl. Be good and let Percy pound his cum into you.” Annebeth muttered softly. All Y/n could think of was if there was any people in the woods, she wondered if they would enjoy the show she was about to put on.

#percabeth x reader #percy jackson x reader #annabeth chase x reader #pjo x you #percy jackson smut #annabeth chase smut

800 notes · View notes

the20thangel · 2 months ago

Text

The Emperor and His Lady

Spoilers for Gladiator 2, following the movie's plot to a certain extent.

Summary: Another victory for the Roman Empire; as the celebrated general returns home, he is greeted by the twin Emperors, Geta and Caracalla. In the shadows, he is greeted by a powerful ally who has yet to fully understand her power over her emperor.

Word Count: 1.2K

This will be a series. Masterlist

No tags for now, but it will change throughout the story.

Hundreds of people cheered for him as General Acacius rode into the square. The twin emperors, Geta and Caracalla, were waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Forcing down a grimace, General Acasius walked up to meet and salute his emperors. The crowd of senators, nobles, and the emperors' concubines watch their interaction, seeing how the general kissed Geta’s hand in respect as Emperor Geta led the three men into the inner chambers. The crowd dispersed, leaving one lady waiting in the background. Lady Arabella, noble at birth, her father and uncle senators, stood behind a column. Although noble, she was technically a concubine.

Her father, ever the ambitious man, wanted more power than his current seat, so when she was 11 years old, she was offered to Emperor Geta when he was still a prince at 14, hoping that Geta would one day make her his Empress. Unfortunately, he has yet to fulfill her father's dream. However, according to what the other concubines say, she is considered one of Geta’s favorites. Geta and Caracalla tended to switch out their lovers every few years for boredom or other reasons. Years come and go, and concubine by concubine gets switched all but her; Geta has never pushed her away, even if they had years of not laying with each other. The last time she lay with the emperor was when she was 15 and he was 17. She was now 21, and he was 24, but he always kept her close.

As she waited, she hummed a distant lullaby, a sad one someone close to her would sing as they reminisced about a lost love. Her musing was broken as the chambers opened; she hid in case it was the twins, not wanting to pretend to be happy to see them, especially Caracalla. Arabella could not stand the younger of the two. Upon seeing the General, Arabella grinned, stepping out of the shadows to greet her friend.

“General, Rome thanks you for your service to her.” Arabella sweetly greeted.

Marcus Acacius smiled at the young girl, taking her smooth hand into his, and pressed a quick kiss. “Lady Arabella, how do you fare, young one?”

Arabella smiled, linking her hands behind her back; it would not be suitable for her or the general to be seen holding hands. Of course, he would never dishonor his wife, and she did not need problems with Geta.

“Well as I can be, stuck in this grand palace, General, although visiting your wife provides me great comfort.” She explained, letting him know that she and the former empress provide great comfort to each other.

“That is good, although I’m surprised our Imperator lets you have such liberties so often?” confessed Acacius, his smile growing as Arabella shrugged. The little lady did not seem to understand her power over Geta.

As the two converse for a quick while, they both heard footsteps coming their way. Both turned and bowed at Geta and Caracalla coming towards them. Arabella grimaced, hoping Geta was in a good mood; she did not need to have rageful Geta in her hands. As the twins stopped before the lady and general, Caracalla lustfully slid his eyes over Arabella’s body. The lady was beautiful; there was no doubt, her doe brown eyes giving the allusion of innocence, her brown curly hair that she always kept up, allowing a few strands to frame her round face. She never wore too much makeup; she was a beauty, and it always made him jealous that she was Geta’s and Geta’s only. Geta never even touches her, which is what makes him upset; from what he knows, she has only laid with his brother twice since she was made a concubine. She is the only original concubine he and his brother never shared, and when he asks Geta, he becomes dark and threatens him. What was so special about this girl that he couldn’t have?

“Imperators,” greeted Arabella, never letting her sight fall on either brother.

Geta stares at Arabella for a while, seemingly disinterested, before turning to Marcus Acacius.

“General, I would expect you riding to your household to greet your wife that you so desperately say you miss… not conversing with a concubine…and mine to add…” Drawled Geta, annoyed at his brother’s taunting smirk and a little laugh.

Before Geta could snap at his brother to quiet, he was interrupted by a soft voice.

“It was my fault, Imperator; I spoke to him first; I apologize for my transgressions,” replied Arabella, not wanting the general to be on thin ice with them because if Acacius were in trouble, it would lead to Lucilla. Arabella did not push this on the woman she considered a motherly figure to her.

Caracalla and Acacius froze at the interruption; no one stupid enough would ever interrupt Geta while he was speaking.

As the tension grew, Arabella inhaled, praying to the gods Virtus and Mars for bravery. She raised her eyes to Geta, letting her brown eyes meet his. As the two stared at each other, the emperor and lady, it felt like a pin could drop and create the loudest echo. Another beat went by as Geta closed his eyes and exhaled, walking away and calling for his brother to follow him, then barking for the concubines to be brought to the entertainment room. This left Arabella exhaling in relief and smiling at Acacius. Acacius stared at the lady in shock, again surprised at how much power she had over the older twin emperor.

“General, please let my Lady know I shall visit her in the morn to break my fast with her…rest well,” lightly commanded Arabella as she inclined her head with respect and walked the opposite way where the emperors were, seemingly she was the only concubine not entertaining them tonight.

Again, amazed that Arabella did not seem to understand her stance and power, he inclined his head towards the little lady and walked to his horse, wanting to reunite with his wife.

As Arabella watched the general leave, she sighed in despair, being left alone again in a place she knew she did not belong. She walked to her chambers, and she was lucky; she knew that. While the other Conbuines had to share a section of the palace, ready to please their Imperators, she had her private chamber far from the emperors' chambers. She supposed being a daughter and niece of two well-respected Senators provided that perk. Arabella sunk into her chair and stared at her reflection. Another day in her prison, alone with no true friends, she is used as a pawn for an achievement she will never get. She knows she will never be empress; Geta enjoyed his freedom from marriage too much to consider that notion. She just wondered what was his gain in keeping her locked up, never touching her, and seemingly not interested in being close to her. Was it to keep her father in check? She supposes that was the reason she was a hostage bargain. Humming the sad lullaby, her eyes dimming, she began to unravel her hair, combing it as tears pooled in her eyes.

#gladiator ii #fanfic #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #Emperor geta/ oc #geta/oc #emperor geta fanfic

169 notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 11 months ago

Text

Don't leave me (Sephiroth x Reader angst)

Summary: Sephiroth's abandonment issues get the better of him in the middle of the night, so he goes to you, seeking comfort.

---‐------------------------------------------------------------‐--------------Sleep was never easy for Sephiroth thanks to the shadows, voices, and eerie bits of music that often plagued his thoughts. His mind, when allowed to wander, was often like a bitter, wintery blizzard, with everything swirling around in one, massive, confusing, mental storm. In order to keep the storm from growing too large, Sephiroth often kept busy throughout the day, focusing his mind on productive, stimulating activities such as exercising, scheming in his office, or tracking down Cloud and his accomplices.

However, at nighttime, when his brain was exhausted and craved sleep, such activities were very difficult to complete, therefore, he turned to more ordinary practices of keeping his mind occupied, which, unsurprisingly, did not work. Math problems were easy for him, as were crossword puzzles, spot the difference games, hidden object puzzles, etc. Sephiroth could work through an entire high-school math textbook in under 2 hours and say it was "child's play". This level of genius was purely astonishing, and also maddening, as his troubled thoughts, of which there were plenty, were also very disruptive.

Sighing, the man rolled over in his bed and draped his heavy, fluffy wing over his face like most humans would with a pillow. Why couldn't he sleep?! What would it take for his goddamn brain to shut off and let him rest already?! He was so tired, he could feel his eyeballs ache, but he just couldn't rest. Why?

The swirling storm in Sephiroth's head raged on; he closed his eyes and gripped his pillow tightly, trying desperately to remember what falling asleep felt like so he could ascertain whether or not he was making progress.

Several more minutes passed, and Sephiroth felt his brain fog over. He relaxed completely, willing his consciousness to slip into darkness and finally, finally, allow him to rest. He expected to plunge into fuzzy nothingness, but was instead met with a cold, dark, empty void.

All around him, he could hear laughter. Deranged laughter; laughter he'd heard almost all day of every day during his childhood. How he hated that laugh. Sephiroth turned around, only to find that same man standing before him in the familiar, pristine lab coat that he knew so well.

Hojo.

He was glad he couldn't speak; to utter his name aloud would have stained and corrupted his tongue. He glared at the man with contempt, wishing he would just leave already. He'd seen enough of that cruel bastard, he didn't need to see any more. Hojo smiled at him, his thin lips twisting into a devious smirk. Looking at it made Sephiroth's blood boil. Where was Masamune? Now would be a perfect time to use it.

Hojo's smile slowly faded, his expression turning from evil glee to disgust. He was regarding Sephiroth with disgust. How dare he?! Sephiroth watched as he turned around and walked away, shaking his head. Good riddance, he thought. He never wanted to look at scum like Hojo anyway. Turning around once again, Sephiroth came face to face with a being he never expected to see in a place like this. His own, beloved mother: Jenova.

Now Sephiroth was beginning to wish he could speak. He wanted to tell his mother how glad he was to see her here, how much he loved her, how thankful he was to her for his mere existence. He tried to reach out to touch her, but she recoiled, frowning in repulsion. What was wrong? What did he do to make her feel this way? Sephiroth was at a complete loss; all he ever did was for his mother, so why wasn't she embracing him? Why....why didn't she love him?

Panicking slightly, Sephiroth extended his hands in her direction once again, but Jenova stepped back. Shaking her head at him, just as Hojo had done, the entity whom Sephiroth had dedicated nearly everything he did to turned her back on him.

Now he was scared. The darkness was more than just that; it was an all-consuming maw mace of his own twisted, fearful thoughts. He didn't want this; he hated being alone like this. Why did everyone leave? What did he do wrong?

The stormy void closed in around Sephiroth, surrounding him in a cloud of fear. He didn't like this, he didn't want to sleep anymore, he wanted to wake up!

And he did, springing upright in a cold sweat, panting heavily. His wing flapped loudly against the bed, shedding feathers everywhere. He looked around and saw he was the only person in the room, this notion terrifying him even further. In a fit of frenzied hysteria, Sephiroth flung the covers aside and stumbled out of his room, not caring that he was bashing various body parts against the door trim. He ended up in the living room, where you were still awake, working on the couch. As soon as he appeared in the darkened room, you stopped what you were doing and turned to him, confused. His legs, clad only in pajama shorts, were visibly and violently trembling; an unusual occurrence.

"Seph?" You asked, standing up and walking towards him. "Are you alright?" He shook his head, nearly collapsing into your arms. You cradled him for a while, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, waiting patiently to see if he would explain the reasons for his distress. After a few moments, he began to sob.

"Don't leave me," He croaked, clinging onto you tightly. "Don't leave me too...." You sighed softly, before taking his head into your hands and kissing him.

"I'm not leaving you, ever," You told him, running your hands through his long, silky locks. "I'm gonna be here forever. Don't be afraid." Sephiroth nodded, then sniffled and wiped his tears away. "Come on," You said, taking him by the hand and leading him back to his bedroom. "I'll stay with you tonight."

Needless to say, Sephiroth fell asleep easier than ever that night; the comfort of your presence, and the knowledge that you would never leave him lulling him into peaceful slumber.

#Ffvii #Ff7 #Final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #Sephiroth #Fvii sephiroth #Ff7 sephiroth #Final fantasy 7 sephiroth #final fantasy vii sephiroth #Sephiroth x reader #Fvii sephiroth x reader #Fanfic #Angst #abandoment issues #Sephiroth x reader angst #Angst fanfic #icycoldninja writes

478 notes · View notes

biibini · 4 months ago

Note

Heyy!! I really love your modern!mizu work sm 😭😭🫶 I was wondering if you could please write how modern Mizu would act when her and reader have an argument? Tysm if u do!!

modern!mizu in arguments

tags: modern!mizu is rlly sweet but ngl u spooked her a sec , tw: midterms , college au , reader is lowk mean & crazy from all the stress , resolved in the end ♥︎

a/n: just bc i want to be levi’s wife doesnt mean i’m leaving mizu just yet <3 my past few quarters have been beating my ass (im finally surviving)

modern!mizu would be the type of person to get anxious if something goes wrong at the beginning of ur relationship

and let her fight or flight kick in

bc she let her guard down the first time around (thanks m*k*o)

tbh i wouldnt rlly imagine yall getting into a fight

but i feel if a fight did happen, it would most likely stem from misunderstanding and misinterpretations of what u guys say

for example, a small argument at the beginning spooked her due to her previous relationship having little to no communication

before the first argument, u had just gotten home from a long school day filled with lectures, annoying group mates, and a senseless amount of studying

midterm season was approaching

things were a lil tense

u had hoped to destress and maybe cuddle with ur gf instead of being crammed into a dorm with two other girls with their crazy studying schedules

only to find her busy with her work

“I’m home!”, you yell into the hallway. The rain had just started pouring and you were sopping wet. Thank goodness your laptop was safe, but the rest of your clothes weren’t.

“Anyone home? Hello?”

Frustratedly, you jangle the keys out of the door. They sure wanted to be stubborn with you today after ALL the things you witnessed today.

An early lecture class that you were half awake at. A failed attempt at working with your group mates for your communications class, with Akemi being the only person that actually showed up. Your teacher becoming the strictest they’ve ever been. It wasn’t your fault that he’s going a divorce, but it sure feels like it.

And after all that came your awaited time to study. Only to find your favorite places filled to the brim with students who giggled and gossiped in their corners, making the noises grow larger and larger. God, freshman are the worst.

You were on the verge of insanity.

The sudden change in weather nearly pushed you to your edge.

Arriving at the apartment sopping wet, you were relieved to finally take off your wet shoes by the door, hoping to finally unwind and let go of the annoyance of the day.

With no answer to your call, you assumed it was an empty apartment and huffed, attempting to let go of all the stresses from the day. You hung your bag, letting it dry from the pouring rain. Little did you know how fucked you would be when you opened the bag to find your lecture notes, damp from the rain.

Sent over the edge, you throw your notebook onto the kitchen counter in an attempt to dry the papers. You were so screwed if they weren’t dry by the midterm this week.

You cursed as you dig up the rest of the contents in your bag, only to find them damp and wet from the rain. The only thing that truly stayed dry was your laptop due to its case.

“God, fucking damnit.”, you swore to yourself, continuing to lay out all the contents.

First, your things needed to dry NOW. Without those notes, you would be going into that midterm blind.

Now, it was you next.

You stormed into Mizu’s bedroom, fueled with rage and annoyance from everything today. It all felt like it was crashing down with every step you took. The tiredness, the annoyance, the wetness, the heavy weight of your drenched clothes. You couldn’t wait to take off everything and be dry & clean.

The door swings open right in front of you, hitting you face first. You step back to find Mizu with headphones on, wide-eyed, realizing what she just did. In the brief silence, you could hear the faint noise of the drums and bass being blasted into her headphones.

That was your final straw.

“Oh shit, sorry Y/N, I didn’t know you were home-”

“You couldn’t hear me lose my shit just now?”, you snapped. “Really now?”

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

At this point, you were too tired to care.

“What’s going on is that I’m wet, I’m fucked for my midterm tomorrow, and I just- I just need to go take this shit off.”, you huff, pushing past Mizu.

Before you can even move past her, Mizu grabs your forearm, pulling you back from your momentum.

"Hey.", Mizu said in a sincere tone while squeezing your arm, hoping to meet your gaze.

"What.", you snapped at her.

"I'm not the only person who's busy here.", she retorted.

You looked back to spot her eyes, dead and exhausted, forming dark spots under her eyes. You could tell how worn out she was, staring at formulas and mismanaged group projects all day. Her dull hair was in a disheveled bun, barely hanging onto the butterfly clip you had bought her a few weeks ago.

"Look, I've been working on these midterm projects all day too. My project group mates barely did their shit and our capstone check-in is coming in so soon… I need to catch up now and—“

“Could you at least be aware of your surroundings when you do work on your projects?”, you scoff as you past her and grab a towel and a hair dryer.

You walk back to your damp belongings, hoping you make it in time to minimize the damage. What you didn’t expect was your girlfriend also following your footsteps.

“Y/N, please…”

You wipe your chargers and pencil cases dry. You’re glad they’re safe and secure. As for your notes, you fear that’s a different story.

“Honey…”

You heard her but to be frank, your priorities was your drenched notebook, currently sopping up all the rainwater. You plug in the hairdryer and immediately get to work, hoping it’ll be enough to save you for the midterm coming next week. Some of the ink starts to bleed. You can only hope for readability as the pages on the notebook start to lighten.

“Y/N.”, she calls out.

You turn up the heat settings of the hairdryer as you continue to point the air on the important notes. It becomes more readable.

“Y/N!”

“WHAT.”, you snap back.

You look back in annoyance and see Mizu behind you with a house fan in her hands, eyes widen. You fear your response was a little too loud as you spot the power cord tremble in her hands.

Oh Mizu…

“Um, I’ll just put the fan here.“, Mizu states, whipping around in hopes of plugging in the fan quickly.

“Mizu, wait, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, it’s okay.”, she cuts you off. “I’ll just… um… I’ll just—”

You can hear the stammer in her voice. You reach for her arm before she can hide away. It’s cool to the touch, almost cold.

“Mizu, I—”

She turns around to look at you. Her eyes used to look tired but now they’re so shaken. God, you forgot how much words hurt.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at your earlier and now. I was so absorbed and stressed with midterms and the rain and everything about today. I’m so sorry, I should not have exploded like that in front of your face, especially since you have midterms as well. Mizu, I’m just so—”

“Overwhelmed?”

You sigh, “Very.”

A small smile grows on Mizu’s face. You let go of her forearm and smile back.

“Me too honey. Me too.”, she sighs in relief. “C’mere.”

Her left arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to her side. Were you a little damp? Yeah. Did she care at this moment? Not a chance.

“After we get these notes all nice and dry, do you want to take a nice, warm bath and you’ll talk about your day and I’ll talk about mine…”

Your face warms up as her hand starts to slowly feel up and down your side. Her touch felt so warm and welcoming.

“Mmhm”, you hum in agreement.

Her mouth slowly inched towards your ear, her breath dancing over your lobes.

“and maybe, afterwards, some de-stressing?”, she hints, breathily. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”, you tease.

Besides, Ringo wouldn’t be back until next week.

Mizu places a kiss on your cheek. She plugs the fan, double checking to make sure it is aiming at your notebook, as well as your bag.

“Thank you for your helping, Mizu.”, you say as you kiss her on the cheek.

“No worries.”, Mizu says as she grins, pulling you to her again to steal another kiss. “We’re both stressed, we need breaks every once in a while.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t count that last part as a break—”, you jokingly question.

“It’s a maybe… just putting the thought out there.”, Mizu defends, putting her hands up.

After your notebooks are dry, you notice that most of your notes are fine. Thankfully, you remembered Akemi was in the class and were able to get her digital notes from her iPad.

As shitty as your day first started, it couldn’t come close to the end of your day. You got your hot bath and rant, as promised. And maybe that last step too.

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai #bes mizu #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu headcanons #mizu x y/n #modern mizu #college au #mizu college au #mizu modern au #argument #request

175 notes · View notes

arpicityandneed · 2 months ago

Note

Omg I need more Loki x Thor x sister reader

But maybe in this one reader finds out that Loki is adopted and refuses to believe it and had an entire meltdown about it screaming she crying because she’s so sad he’s not her biological brother

(After re-reading your other one 73846 times I have made a theory that reader is the goddess of peace snd calm)

You don’t gotta write this btw

a/n: I may or may not have gotten carried away. enjoy and thanks for this ask!!

18+ f!reader. Dark content. Incest. Stepcest? Hurt/comfort. Implied Loki x Thor. Reader has a fit and hits Loki.

It was rare to be summoned home, especially after you were married off. Despite your brother's visiting you in your new home, despite the potion Loki gave you to give your husband dreams of a pleasurable wedding night so he'd leave you alone, you were unhappy being away from Asgard.

You missed the gardens you used to read in, you missed the glint of the sun on gold, and you missed being pampered by your brothers without having to hide.

So when you were summoned by your mother you wore your finest dress and practically ran up the castle steps, bursting into the great hall expecting to see Odin on the throne as usual.

Your smile faltered as you saw your mother standing beside the empty throne instead.

"Mother?" Your voice was small, noting the dark circles under your mothers eyes and the way her mouth was pinched with worry.

"The AllFather has fallen into the Odin Sleep. We need our family close at this time of strife, so you will be staying with us until the issue is... resolved."

You were going to respond when you heard raised voices coming closer. You frowned, Thor and Loki fought often but never with such coldness in their voices. They came through the doors without even noticing you at first.

"She has a right to know her brother-" Thor's booming voice was bordering on a growl, but Loki surprised you more.

"I'm not her brother!" He roared, and for once Thor fell silent.

"What?" The word was barely a whisper as it left your lips, looking between Thor and Loki's faces. Desperately searching for some sign that this was a sick joke.

"Oh mother didn't tell you?" Loki's bad habit was on full display, pushing people away the moment he needed them most. He smirked at you even as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I'm not your brother. I'm just another relic in Odin's collection. A frost giant's child he wanted to use as a pawn for his own gains." Loki spat, an ugly sneer on his handsome face.

"Mother, say it isn't true." You whirled around, your gaze growing blurry with tears as you begged your mother to right this horrible wrong.

"Your father loves you Loki, no matter who sired you. You are my son." Frigga spoke calmly, but her voice was full of pain. "Now, look after your sister. I must attend to the AllFather." Frigga left without looking back, her pain and worry evident in every line of her body.

"No." Your voice shook, and you swore you could hear the sound of your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"Sister," Thor started to reach for you but you pulled back.

"No. It can't be true!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked to Loki accusingly. "You're lying."

Loki merely bowed mockingly before he started to shift before your eyes. His eyes became blood red and his skin was an icy blue, and you saw his true form for the first time. You knew if you touched him you'd be burned by the frigid cold emanating from his skin.

"Frost. Giant." Loki purred, and you lost it.

You flew at him in a rage, kicking and screaming and biting and scratching. "You're mine, take it back! You're mine!" Distantly you felt Thor trying to pull you off, and the cold of Loki's blue skin beneath your hands. But you were lost in your despair and grief, great sobs wracking your body as your anger suddenly drained out of you.

Thor held you as you fell to the floor, exhausted and hollow as you faced the reality of it.

Loki wasn't yours.

You locked yourself in your room for days. Thor would bring you food and try to cajole you to come see the gardens, have some tea, visit mother. But nothing appealed to you.

The world wasn't right, and it would never be right again. Food tasted like nothing, you couldn't sleep without nightmares of being abandoned and left out in the cold.

Loki hadn't come to see you once.

Looking back he hadn't even fought back, he'd merely stood there while you slapped him and clawed at him, hands behind his back and his eyes full of heartbreak.

Sometimes you'd hear yelling outside your door, and sometimes you even thought you'd heard Loki's voice. But every time you went to the door the hallway would be empty.

Until one night you woke with a scream of Loki's name on your lips. Another nightmare, faceless figures taking him away with nothing for you to do.

"I'm here." Loki murmured quietly. He was sitting on the edge of your bed like he'd always been there. You had no idea how long he'd watched you sleep.

"Are you?" You asked bitterly, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Y/n..."

"You won't even call me sister now, and you expect me to answer?" You glared at him. "You should leave, I'm not allowed to have strange men in my room." You knew you were being petty, but every bit of distance he put between you hurt more than you could bear.

"Look. I can't go back and change things, alright?" Loki sighed, running a hand through his raven hair. His voice dropped and you could hear his sincerity. "But if I could I'd be your brother in every other lifetime."

"And this lifetime? What about us now?" You asked quietly, painfully aware that you were only dressed in a sheet and the object of your obsession was only an arms reach away.

"You'd truly still want me, even knowing I'm a monster?" His voice broke on the last word and he turned away from you. Understanding dawned and you crawled over to him, settling your naked form in his lap and cupping his cheeks in your small hands.

"You're my brother in every way that counts. And you are not a monster. You have protected me, taught me everything I know about magic, and loved me better than any husband ever could. You and Thor are the only ones who have my heart. My body. My soul. I'm yours. Your sister." You were quiet but firm as you spoke, and eventually you felt him put his arms around you.

"If we have a child, you won't be able to pass it off as a full blooded Asgardian. Your husband will know." Loki reasoned, and you opened your mouth to answer before Thor spoke. You and Loki had been to caught up in each other to notice as he came to check on you after hearing you cry out.

"Then we get rid of her husband." Thor said as if it were the obvious solution, coming to sit on the bed beside Loki. He punched his brother's arm firmly before muttering. "I told you she'd forgive you if you just talked to her."

You cuddled into Loki's chest as he held you, reaching out to take Thor's hand and shrugging casually even as you plotted your husbands assassination.

"My husband is starting to develop feelings for me, I'm sure he'll try to touch me soon anyway." You mumbled and Thor growled.

"Maybe my potions are a bit too well made." Loki chuckled before he groaned, your mouth latching onto his neck as your desire to be closer to him took over.

"You still have to atone, brother." You murmured against his ear just to feel him shiver, grinding your cunt down onto his lap as you nipped at his earlobe. "You were mean to me. Made me cry."

"She's right Loki, you know better than to be mean to our baby." Thor was angry, possessive, and more than a little desperate to make sure Loki knew who he belonged to. "And as the oldest, I think it's only fair that I decide what your punishment is."

Loki looked between the two of you with a faint smirk on his lips.

"I submit to my punishment then."

A few months after the announcement of your pregnancy, your husband had a hunting accident. The AllFather awoke from his deep slumber to find his daughter queen of a foreign land just as he intended. He allowed you to come home as soon as you decreed to your subjects that you would be joining with Asgard as one nation, his desire for power and more land fully satisfied.

You spent the remainder of your pregnancy under your brother's careful watch. You never lifted anything heavier than your silverware when you ate, and even then it was a rarity. No, you were more often found in one of their laps as they hand fed you.

And when the time finally came, your son was born with night black hair and eyes that switched between deep blue and bright red depending on his mood.

#f!reader #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #thor ☆#thor odison x reader #thor x you #thor x reader #thor smut #loki ☆#dark ☆#tw incest #tw dark content #tw stepcest #mina writes ☆

120 notes · View notes

suuuupernovaaa · 7 months ago

Text

Neteyam is angry with his beloved, and doesn’t know what to do with those feelings.

The anger deep in the pits of his stomach is manifesting in restlessness. Neteyam cannot sit still. He is pacing, throwing his arms around, shaking, anything to keep the thoughts at bay.

The image of her, bloodied, gone from him forever. He can’t shake it. Her last breath shuddering from her chest, while he wails at her side.

He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, willing the picture away.

“Neteyam?” his mother’s calm voice comes from just outside his mauri pod. “Come,” she beckons, and like a good son, he follows.

His mother leads him to her, where she sits at Lo’ak’s bedside, holding his hand while the healer tends to him.

He stares at her chest, watching it rise and fall, taking in healthy breaths. Her eyes dart around as tears pool in them, threatening to spill over onto her dirty cheeks.

She looks up and sees him, and clouds cross her face. His mother kneels next to her and gently nudges her, until his mate to be releases Lo’ak into his mother’s care and stands up to join Neteyam.

He turns and exits, and his beloved follows.

Far away from any prying ears, Neteyam leads them to the beach, not stopping until they are ankle deep in the quiet waters.

“I’m sorry, Neteyam,” the woman says with fear in his voice, and his anger only grows. “I did try to stop him. I’m so sorry.”

Neteyam hates himself. He hates himself for being blind, and foolish, and angry. This woman was promised to him when they were only children, and he took her for granted these nearly 18 years since. She was always there, and he grew accustomed to her presence. He forgot to delight in her.

Seeing her this morning, on the ground next to his brother, covered in blood and as still as the stars, sent such a panic and rage through him that he realized it for the first time.

The depth of his love for her. The way her smile and voice are like a warm embrace. How much he needs to see and touch her every day. How desperate he is to claim her as his own, in every way.

She is everything to him, and he thought he had lost her.

“When I saw you there, I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you forever.” His voice is small, measured, and he is so close to breaking into tears.

She reaches out to him, and he leans into her touch, her fingers gently resting on his cheek.

“I’m whole, ‘Teyam. I would not leave you yet.”

He opens his eyes to see her smiling.

“I’ve been so angry all day that you put yourself in danger.”

Her smile fades and he knows, for certain, that she did not realize he cared that much. He has failed her in this.

“I’ve done you a disservice, by not expressing to you before now how ardently and wholly I love you.”

He would have been too embarrassed to say the words before today, but nearly losing her has changed everything.

“You are everything to me. Absolutely everything,” he says. “I won’t lose you. Not due to your own misplaced bravery, or my brother’s foolishness. You won’t be out of my sight, from this moment forward.”

He doesn’t care how controlling it sounds. He won’t risk her for anything. Nothing else compares to her.

She steps forward and wraps her arms around his waist. He pulls her tightly to him, breathing in the saltwater scent of her braided hair as he rests his chin on the top of his head.

“I love you too. You can be my shadow, if it brings you comfort.”

He can feel her lips turn up in a smile against the skin of his chest, and he smiles too.

Her shadow.

That sounds good.

#neteyam fic #Neteyam #Neteyam X reader #avatar twow

204 notes · View notes

starlightsreigns · 21 days ago

Text

don’t hurt yourself | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie's past the point of understanding. she wants to burn the world down with him in it... and she just might word count ⇢ 2.1k tags ⇢ minors, do not interact. explicit language. | three ; anger “Who the fuck do you think I is?”

Beautiful man, I know you’re lying

Malice fills me down to my core.

The sun rose over the horizon as I watched it from the dining room table. For days now, I’ve kept the revelation to myself, letting it eat me alive. My legs bounced slowly but stopped when I heard Roman coming down the stairs. His face makes me look away. I can’t look at him anymore, this isn’t the man I fell in love with — he’s a stranger I sleep beside every night.

“Hey Mel, what you doin’ down here?” His voice is hoarse from sleep.

I can’t find a response and my eyes can’t meet his. So, I continue to stare out at the sunrise.

“Baby, what’s going on?” Roman moves towards me.

“Nothin’, I just can’t sleep.” My words cold. “Ain’t you going to the gym?”

He’s in his workout clothes, as usual, ready for an early morning workout that I’m certain isn’t happening in the gym. Roman used to workout in our home gym, but for months now he’s been going to some random gym that he says is better — as the fool, I once believed him, but now I know that’s not the truth.

“I’ll pick us up some breakfast?”

Finally, I turn to look at him, “Don’t bother,”

I turn away from him. Roman doesn’t say anything else. He waits for a moment then leaves. Once he’s out of the garage, I fling my robe off and run out the front door towards Alyssa’s car that’s parked a few houses down.

“Mellie, is this really what we’re doing? You saw the message.” Alyssa says but puts the car in drive anyway. “You think he’s going to that girl's house?”

“I don’t know, but we have a home gym, Aly, he has to.”

The ride is quiet, and twenty minutes long. We pull into a neighborhood and my stomach turns. Alyssa glances at me, keeping her distance from Roman. When he pulls into a driveway, she parks down the road. The silence in the car makes the pit in my stomach grow larger.

“Mellie,” Alyssa whispers but she stops. “I don’t know what to say.”

I don’t blame her. We wait and watch as Roman sits in the car for a while. When he opens the door, Alyssa and I lean up with wide eyes. The front door of the house swings open and a pretty woman steps onto the porch with a grin. Her long black hair flows down her back, the sun gives her the prettiest glow.

“She’s pretty,” I whisper. Roman walks up and hugs her tightly. “I’m gonna throw up.”

My eyes shift down to my lap just as Alyssa gasps. I look up quickly as the front door closes then look over at my friend. She shakes her head sadly with her eyes closed.

“I’m so sorry, Mel.” Alyssa sighs.

A tear and then another hits my cheeks, “Me too.”

Yet, I’m not sure what this feeling in my body is.

Before I can think about it, I’m out of the car and marching towards the house. Alyssa nearly draws blood when she sinks her fingernails into my arm. I barely feel the pain as I stare at the house in silence. My vision blurred from the tears that are falling harder now.

Alyssa pulls me closer to her, “Don’t do this, Mellie. This isn’t who you are.”

When you hurt me, you hurt yourself, try not to hurt yourself

The dining room table is my new favorite spot in the house. Now, I sit at the head with a baseball bat between my legs. My legs bounce up and down slowly, flinching softly when the garage opens. There’s a knot in my throat that travels down to my stomach. I’m filled with intense nerves, but my rage overtakes that. I can feel the heat on my skin that burns to the touch.

My eyes slowly drift to the chair to my left where my wedding dress sits. My breathing slows as I reach for it, but stop when the door opens.

“Mel,” Roman calls out. He takes a few steps and then stops right behind me. “You been sittin’ here the whole time, baby? What’s your dress doin’ out here?”

What words can I find? I wait for him to walk around so I can see him — and that’s when all the air in my lungs is expelled. My hand grips around the bat tightly as I take a deep breath. If I could knock his head off his shoulders and not go to jail I would. I’m willing to take the jail time.

“How was the gym?” My voice is so low I can barely hear myself. “It must’ve been a long, intense workout.”

Roman nods slowly, “Yeah, I did cardio.”

That finally sets me off. Pushing my chair back with so much force that it tips over, I set the end of the baseball bat on the glass table. Roman’s eyes widen at the sight and he takes a subtle step back. My chest rises and falls to keep me from falling into a panic attack.

“Do you take me for a fucking idiot, Joe?” I yell. “Who’s the bitch?”

He gives me a stupid look, a look that confirms what we both know. In reality, the dumb look pisses me off even more. My hand shakes as I slowly lift the bat.

“Baby, please…” Roman begs.

Without a second thought and filled with rage, I snatch the baseball bat and plunge the end of it into the dining table, watching it shatter, bits falling around my feet. But, it’s not enough. Roman tries to walk towards me, but I raise the bat again. The end of it is practically against his cheek. He’s frozen in his spot and my hands shake.

“Get the fuck away from me, bitch.” My own scream almost scares me. “Answer me, am I fucking idiot?”

Roman shakes his head. I press the bat into his face as a tear falls down my cheek. He tries to reach for it again and I swing the bat against his arm.

“Move.” I grit my teeth.

It’s a blur in my mind as I smash anything in my sight. His voice is in the background, pleading for me to listen, to stop, to understand, but my heart’s taken off and that bitch is broken.

Every single broken object in the house doesn’t help. There are reminders of all the good times and I never want to see them again.

The bat hits the ground with a loud clank. I take a step back with a deep breath. My eyes stare down at the glass-covered ground, not looking up when his feet move towards me, crunching everything finer. Regret now sits in my chest — this wasn’t what I wanted to do, but my heart overtook my head.

“Mellie, I’m so sorry.” He pleads, trying to catch my eyes.

My eyes see red again. His apologies only fuel more anger in my body. The white wedding dress falls into my line of vision and I push past him and grab it. Right under it sits a box of matches.

“Melody,” His voice shaking.

I can’t hear anything past the buzzing in my ears. By the time I’m in the backyard and dosing the dress with propane from our grill, everything is numb.

A match sits between my shaking fingers, “I don’t remember who I was before all of this pain.” I murmur under my breath then let the match fall onto the dress.

Flames engulfed the dress immediately. I take a step back and watch my marriage go up in flames. I turn to look at Roman who stares at the dress in shock.

“You can clean this up and leave me the fuck alone,” I mutter. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

You don't love me deep enough, we not reaching peaks enough

My legs feel like jelly on the walk up to our bedroom. There’s a hollowness spreading inside of me, but my legs carry me all the way to the bed and I stay there, frozen — numb.

Is this not what I wanted? I wished I stayed in the unknown; you know what they say, ignorance is bliss. Having it all out in the open only made this harder.

When Roman comes into the room, I shut my eyes. He sits on the edge of the bed in silence for longer than I can remember. So much so, that I start to doze off, but I’m pulled back to reality when he starts talking.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mellie, I don’t know what words will undo all of this.” He starts. “Nothing I say can change this, but I love you, and I knew better and it was eating me up inside, I don’t wanna lose you, Mel. You might never forgive me, but baby believe me, I’ll do everything in my power to fix this. I can’t lose you.”

Tears spill over the side of my face, but I remain stoic and away from him.

“I want you to leave, I can’t look at you, I can’t believe, and I don’t want to believe you.”

I finally sit up on the bed to look at him. His eyes are red and tears fall from his eyes, but nothing in me changes. I’ve met every single thing I’ve said to him. My love just isn’t enough to overpower the hate I have in my heart for him.

“You need to leave.” My voice is stern, but it shakes.

Something in me is fighting. My love for him won’t go away overnight, but the resentment will live forever if I stay.

Roman doesn’t move. Finally, I take a deep breath and stand.

“If you won’t leave, I will.”

You ain’t married to no average bitch, boy

Roman stands in my way, “Mellie, please.” He begs.

“Why the fuck are you begging me right now, Roman, I didn’t hurt you. You hurt me and now I have to stay?” I step back. “I don’t what to know why you fucked that random bitch and I don’t want to understand anything you say.”

“Mel, I promise I’m not sleepin’ with her no more.”

My eyes fixated on his, “I saw you. Today, I saw you with her this morning.”

He hesitates for a moment then nods, “I ended things with her, Mellie, I swear I ended shit with her but she kept calling and texting and I went over there to tell her to stop.”

“That’s why you was hugged up with her?” I laugh bitterly. “You really think I’m fucking stupid, shit.”

Roman takes a step forward, “No, I don’t know why I did that, but baby, I ended everything with her.”

His eyes pleaded with me and I could see the truth deep down, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough.

“I don’t care. You thought that shit was okay to do in the first place.” I point my finger at him. “So, I’m not gonna tell you again, get the fuck out of my way and let me go or I swear to God I will hate you for the rest of my life.”

After a moment of staring into my eyes, Roman steps back with a small nod.

“I’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

this is your final warning, you know i give you life...

Downstairs, I sit on the edge of the couch. There’s an emptiness inside me I’ve never felt before. Roman cleaned up the glass, but there’s a part of me that can see the destruction everywhere. This doesn’t feel like my own home anymore.

Roman comes down the stairs with a suitcase and a duffle bag. My heart falls at the sight, but all I can do is get up and meet him at the front door.

“Mel, I love you, I’m so sorry.” He pleaded while I opened the door. “Can we work on this, baby?”

My eyes overlook the evening sky, “I can’t stop picturing you and her. I can’t do this.” I take off my wedding rings and hand them to him. “Goodbye, Roman.”

There’s an air that sits between us as he stares at the rings in his palm. Roman lets out a breath and walks out the door. I slam it shut behind him before he can turn and say anything else. I can’t look at him again, it’s the most painful thing I’d ever have to do in my life.

And yet, I still contemplate how I can leave him behind forever when my heart refuses to let him go for good.

“If it’s what you truly want … I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized … you and your perfect girl.”

i appreciate your patience as i dealt with life, but im back!!!! i hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter. hope you caught a little hit for the next chapter ;) this is my (third) FAVORITE song on the album.

if you’d like to join the tag list, lmk!

love u all and see you soon x

139 notes · View notes

unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

Note

part 4 mob boss mommy *i mean natty oops*

Title: The Oversight [Part 4/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 4325

Warnings: Gun imagery, heights, unecessary tension, horrible grammar, and funnel cake

[A/n: Heads up, I wrote this while I had the flu & a pretty bad fever, so it's not my greatest work. Thank you all for the postive feedback!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

“Hit me.” Natasha’s words were growled, a low rumble compared to the warm spring breeze that produced nothing but a balmy environment. Sweat glossed her collarbone, moved against expanses of skin that you had let yourself imagine, but had never seen. She was a distraction, despite being your instructor.

Her wrapped fist made contact with your jaw, a metallic taste coating your tongue. You let out a grunt of protest, fingers quickly working against the area to ease the throbbing pain. “That wasn’t fair,”

“You think they’re going to play fair? Focus up. Hit me.”

There was something about being this close to Natasha that formed a pit in your stomach. You were meant to have skin on skin contact, though most of your mornings for the past two weeks had been spent at the gun range, she had deemed you ready enough to learn how to fight. It was an art, you figured, not just something you could blindly go into.

For the first fifteen minutes of your day, you had watched Natasha and Kate spar. Yelena was standing next to you, a borderline predatory gaze on her face. You’d realized that it was one of the only emotions she harbored, and that Clint was rightful in his fear. Still, her attention was not focused on you, and that was good enough for the time being.

Instead, it was homed in on Kate. “I have been teaching her for nearly a year now.”

“She’s good.”

“You do not have to lie, y/n. She’s sloppy, reckless. Look how calculated Natalia is.”

Those emerald eyes were tracking every move the taller girl made. She’d initiated contact with Kate’s ribs, with her knees, and her shoulders. She’d fallen to the grass more times than you could count, but she still got up. That’s what seemed to count around here. Even as green a brown stained her workout gear, and as purple blotches of dead blood rose to the surface of her skin.

“It pays to learn fighting styles. That is something the Danver’s family does not understand. They hire whoever they can. Bodies over skill, it can work in some situations, but not all.”

“When did this… war start?”

“Mm, the power struggle has been raging for decades. Our parents, and their parents, and their parents before them. Both of us were trained to take over the family business. Men, they fight with their hearts and not their heads. When Carol and Natalia took up the mantel, things only got worse.”

You felt silly, growing up on these city blocks, and not realizing that a fight bigger than yourself was raging just within the shadows. You supposed that was a good thing. If you knew, you’d have taken Ronnie out of here in a second.

Kate hit the ground for a fourth time, the air knocked out of her lungs. She still had enough left to groan and prop herself up on her elbows. Natasha chuckled, the sound bubbling past her lips. This was much too fun for her.

“She is fragile.” Yelena nudged you with her arm. You frowned. Kate accepted the outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She looked dazed. “Do not tell her I said so, but she was looking for a project. You have to give it your all. For both of your sakes.”

You drew in a breath to respond, but Yelena clapped a hand on your back before taking a step toward the dueling duo. “Alright Nat! I think you’ve tortured Kate Bishop enough. Do not break her.”

Kate was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, her fists raised in a defensive position. Her lip was split, rusty crimson against the corner of her mouth. “I can do this all day.”

“You do not have to.” Yelena’s nose scrunched up “You stink. Go take a shower.”

The blonde shoved Kate playfully towards the house, trailing behind her and murmuring things in Russian. She’d left you alone with Natasha, something you had become quite accustomed to. In your workout gear, you felt more than a little exposed, her stare raking up and down your form before her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than they already were.

The two of you had sat on the lawn chairs as she wrapped your knuckles, had you punch the palm of her hand to see how much blowback it would cause. You were holding back, and you both knew it. Her last command had been non-negotiable.

When you swung your right hand towards her jaw, Natasha wrapped her fingers around your wrist. She had flipped you onto the ground with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You’d flailed in panic instead of going limp like Kate had.

You’d dragged Natasha down on top of you. Her body weight was warm from the beating sun, her elbows on either side of your head. Natasha’s knee was between yours, pressing into your core. You let out a small gasp at the sensation, pulling in her musky scent of sweat and clove.

Stray strands of russet hair framed Natasha’s face as she peered down at you, her chest heaving, each breath pushing her closer to you. Her nose was brushed against yours. The two of you were impossibly close, soul-crushingly so. You were certain that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt.

She made a quite noise “Pet, if you wanted to get me on top of you, all you had to do was ask.”

Your gaze had given you away, and Natasha suddenly had a shit-eating grin against her lips. You hooked your legs against hers an arm wrapping around her waist. In a smooth move, you had her flipped against the grass, eyes reflecting the blue of the cloudless sky. She nearly seemed impressed, and you preened at the stare.

That was before her knee came up and knocked the wind out of you for the second time. You grunted, rolling off her. The two of you stared up at the sky for a few moments before she hoisted herself up and offered you a hand. You batted it away out of habit, rising on your own.

“When you fall, you fall with grace.” Natasha said, her voice stoney, right back to her serious self. “That way you don’t end up like we just were.”

“And if they ask?” you lifted an eyebrow at her, a hint of malice in her voice. She took a step closer to you, and that ever-intoxicating scent filled your lungs once more. Your ribs still ached from her kick, fingers massaging the sore spot. However, all of your movement halted.

Her voice was murmured and rusty. “I don’t want anyone else on top of you.”

“Okay,” You whispered, throat suddenly tight. “Then show me how.”

Veronica had the excited reflection of light in her eyes. They scanned the traveling fair that had been set up in the park bordering the harbor and a square city block. Each year, tents with local vendors would go up, rides and carnival games in their stead.

The scent of kettle corn filled your lungs, a mix of sweet and salty that reminded you of your own childhood spent here. It was the one constant that every foster family took part in. Sometimes you’d be given a stack of tickets, others, you’d get enough for a large cup of the best lemonade you had ever tasted.

Her hand tightened around yours, squeezing in excitement. Despite your current situation, you couldn’t help but smile. The soft sound of music and the light breeze was enough to make your forget about your aching muscles, and the light sweater that you had thrown on to hide the bruising against your shoulders, your arms, and collarbone. Natasha had really done a number on you.

“Jimmy is a nice guy, he really is, but the whole magic thing is driving me nuts.” Darcy used her forefingers to pinch off a bit of blue cotton candy, shoving it into her mouth. She talked around the melting sugar. “Seriously, he spilled my coffee all over my lap attempting a card trick and then attempted to mop it up with a never-ending handkerchief.”

You snickered at that, earning a look cut from glass. “What? I’m sorry about your drycleaning, but it is kind of funny.”

“Yeah, whatever. I just have to grow a backbone. He doesn’t try to pull that shit with Monica. No one tries to pull that shit with her.” She knelt in front of Ronnie, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re not going to tolerate stupid magic tricks, are you?”

She was met with a silent, but amused stare, her eyebrow lifted. You’d been leveled with that look more than once yourself. It dissolved you into more laughter. “Alright, alright. No magic for the kid. Does the Ferris Wheel count as magic?”

“Well sure, but only at the worlds fair.”

You rolled your eyes but effectively tugged them both into the line. It had always been one of your favorites. It gave you a good look at the city you called home. Of course, your view of that city had been stunted lately. It never truly changed the beauty of the lights and the way they reflected off the water.

Your shoulder came in contact with chilled leather, your attention having been trained on fishing through your pockets for the small red tickets. Your eyes shot up, ready to rush out an apology until the words stopped in your throat.

Seeing Natasha outside of her manor was jarring. She looked nearly the same, a tight-fitting black T-shirt and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose, unlike it was at training earlier in the day, cascading down her shoulders. Her make-up was light, her unripe stare pouring into yours. That bewilderment melted into her cool exterior as if it were never there in the first place.

“Natasha,” the word poured from your lips before you could stop it, and the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I can take a hit” She stated matter-of-factly. You were well aware of the fact, and you had to stifle a shiver as it worked its way down your spine. Hours before she had been nestled so perfectly on top of you.

Your cheeks heated up and you glanced sparingly at your friend, her own eyes going back and forth between the both of you. It was then that you noticed Clint, towering over Natasha with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave you a finger wave, and you lifted your chin in return.

“I’m Darcy, you are?” She was beyond forward, and it made you internally cringe. She reached her hand out to the very woman that ran the city. It was like sticking your hand in the lions enclosure covered in steak sauce.

“Natasha,” her words dripped with a subtle hint of her accent “This is Clint.”

“Howdy,” he knelt then, Veronica was clinging tightly to your leg, peeking around tentatively. She hugged you closer as he spoke. “You must be Veronica.”

The woman in front of you softened as you had never seen before. Her eyes grew brighter, though you could pin that on the circulating lights of the Ferris Wheel. There was a genuine smile on her lips as she looked at the girl who hugged you ever close.

“She doesn’t talk much, I’m afraid.” Your hand moved comfortingly to her shoulder. Ronnie seemed comfortable, if not excited about the rides that were teeming around them.

Nat smiled at you “Oh, I’m sure she’ll speak when she has something to say.”

Ronnie’s death-grip on your leg seemed to loosen a bit as Clint straightened up. Darcy continued to scrutinize you and Natasha, something mischievous in her stare that you didn’t exactly care for. She rocked back and forth on her feet and directed her attention to Clint.

“How good are you at skeeball?”

“An absolute beast.” Clint replied.

“What do you say to a challenge? I bet I can kick your ass with the power of science. Winner springs for funnel cake.”

You picked up on the subtle look Clint gave Natasha and the even more subtle wave that she responded with. She blew an amused breath. Darcy stretched her hand towards Ronnie and wiggled her finger. “Kid, you staying or going?”

This time, Ronnie looked up at you for confirmation and you gave her a small, encouraging nod. She dislodged herself and wrapped her hand around Darcy’s. The promise of flaky and sweet funnel cake topped with powdered sugar was too tantalizing.

Admittedly, you were used to being left alone with Natasha at this point. Though it had mostly been in a business capacity. She seemed almost shy now, the line for the Ferris Wheel inching ever so closer.

“We can still go on, if you want.” She suggested.

“Yeah, yes. Of course.” You replied, “that would be lovely.”

“Your friend is very persistent.”

“She’s harmless, really.”

“And your daughter. She’s beautiful.” Natasha shoved her hands into her pockets, the two of you inching closer in line. “Just like her mother.”

Once again, you could feel the breath lodge in your throat, your cheeks flushing with fire. She was so bold at moments, and you remained silent in your conquest. There was no telling what was overstepping, though she blinked at you expectantly.

You fumbled dumbly with the tickets in your pockets, presenting them to the attendant. You both ended up in a cherry red car lined with nice leather cushions. Natasha’s thigh was warm against yours, her thick scent coating your lungs. Her arm was around the back of the cart, and a familiar sense of safety settled within you.

“You worry about her,” Natasha said to fill the silence as they loaded each cart. It lurched forward and back, making your stomach turn. “I didn’t start speaking until I was nine years old. My mother, she was so concerned that she rushed to be every specialist that money could buy. Whole days spent driving to different counties, just for them to say that same thing. Nothing is wrong, and I’ll talk when I’m ready.”

“What was that moment? The one where you were ready?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “The thing about being quiet, is that people tend not to notice when you’re in the room. My father protected Yelena and I from his world for as long as he could, but eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, and others. I watched him give a man his last drink before shooting him between the eyes.”

“Fuck, Natasha.” You murmured.

“He doesn’t know I saw that. I ran as quietly as I could back to my room and hid under the duvet like a child. Something snapped in me that day and I no longer wanted to be silent. I suppose the fear of displeasing either of them ebbed the words from me.”

She was being vulnerable in front of you, a side that you had never seen. There were always her subtle touches, and her purred words that would hit the pit of your stomach. You’d watch as she gave unwavering commands to Clint, to Yelena and Kate. But this was different. This was her.

The city sparkled around you. Tricolored lights reflected off the blackness of the causeways that lapped listlessly at the harbor. If you squinted, you could almost make out the mansion where you spent most of your time.

The carnival buzzed below. Her scent was overwhelming, so warm and welcoming despite her danger. And dangerous she was. It was alluring, exciting. You looked at her, eyes pouring with emotion. Not so much pity, as she would snap your wrist at the fact. But a simple understanding.

Tentatively, you reached up and cupped her cheek. You both were too far above the ground to be realized and the simple gesture was one of good faith. Surprisingly, she leaned into your touch, making a quiet, relieved noise.

Your voice was whispered, “You didn’t deserve that. You were just a kid.”

She had closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of your contact. Her features were so soft, so broken in this moment that you resisted the urge to kiss her frown away. Before you could contemplate it, the Ferris Wheel lurched and she gently took her fingers and wrapped them around your wrist, lowering both of your hands into her lap.

“She’ll talk,” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze “give her time.”

Natasha cleared her throat as the cart neared the end of its journey. She pulled away entirely, her arm still along the back of the seat. When she leaned closer, you could feel the weight of the gun in the inside pocket of her jacket. Seriousness had lidded over her eyes once more.

“We have a job tonight, and I want you to come along.” She said, breath hot on your collarbone.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality. Natasha was in fact the head of a crime ring that you had unwittingly stumbled into. Up until now, aside from the brutal beating, it had almost felt like child’s play. She’d relearned you how to shoot, and you knew the very basics of fighting. But, you were far from her Winter Soldier stand in. You weren’t even a toy soldier.

She sensed your hesitancy. “I have a meeting at a restaurant downtown. It’s not going to go south, but if it does, I need you there. You won’t be alone.”

“Clint?” You asked.

She shook her head “guys got a family of his own, he must spend some time with them outside of work hours. Kate.”

You fought back the noise that threatened to escape your throat. You didn’t doubt Kate, but you certainly doubted yourself. You didn’t have your own weapon, and the threat of leaving a restaurant with a bullet lodged between your ribs became very real, very quickly.

She chuckled at that, “I trust her. I trust you. Just stand there and follow her lead. Look hot and intimidating.”

“Is hot really a requirement?”

“Not really, but you pull it off.” There was a switch in her again, one that had been flipped effortlessly as she grabbed the collar of your sweater and pulled you impossibly close. You were nearly sitting in her lap. “Don’t fail me on this, y/n. It’s imperative that you do as you’re told.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You swallowed thickly as her hands wandered your side expertly. It took you a moment to realize that she had pulled the gun from her own coat and silently transferred it to yours before she released her hold on you. You had admit that you missed the touch instantly.

She stood from the cart when the attendant unlocked the door, reaching her hand out to you. You took it was ease, letting her help you onto the metal dismount. There were no words exchanged as you readjusted the weapon as slyly as you could muster, hands shoved into your pockets a moment later.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” You could hear Darcy’s voice from within the crowds. It was easy to spot them, and you swore you saw the ghost of a smile on Natasha’s face. “The kid kicked both of our asses. Split the difference and pay up.”

“Yeah, fine.” Clint fished out his wallet and placed a couple of bills in Darcy’s waiting palm. “The price of carnival food these days is outrageous.”

Kate had presented you with a leather holster that fit snuggly around your chest and abdomen. She’d tightened the straps, your arms halfway raised. It felt a bit like a dressing room at the mall, her breath hot on your cheek as she tugged the center strap to make sure it was secure.

“Natasha likes us to be presentable.” She handed you a dark jacket to throw over the contraption. “Inconspicuous and deadly. But still presentable.”

You followed Kate’s lead. Natasha was to drive to the restaurant, and the two of you were to follow in a separate car. It was important to stay quiet unless you were spoken to directly by Natasha. Kate seemed at ease on the ride over, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel to an incoherent pop song.

The holster pinched you uncomfortably, but you were so deep into your own fear, your own reluctance, to pay much attention. Kate shot you a look, hard in her nature, and then softer when she glanced at you a second time.

“You’re much too tense” she flicked off the radio, delving you into a comfortable silence. “Lower your shoulders and relax. It’ll be an uneventful night.”

“Right,” you let out a shaky breath “uneventful.”

“Look, I can’t imagine how jarring this is for you. I would have shut down by now, changed my name and gone into witness protection if I was thrown into this life the way you are. Without a choice. But, we can make the best of it and do what we can to protect Natasha.”

“It seems like she can handle herself,”

Kate chuckled “Oh, she can. But she doesn’t keep us around just for protection. It’s a big city, she wants people she trusts. She wants a family. And I know it might not seem like it, but her welcoming you into her inner circle… it’s a blessing. Just like we’d go to bat for her, she’d do the same for us.”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat as Natasha pulled her car to the curb in front of a russet brick building. Kate did the same expertly, shutting off the engine. She clapped you on the shoulder, giving you one more encouraging smile. “One night at a time, y/n. Follow my lead.”

Kate opened the door for Natasha, and you had to keep your jaw from dropping on the ground at the sight of her. Her long leg stretched onto the sidewalk, her hand squeezing Kate’s in return as she helped her from the vehicle.

She wore a maroon dress, one that had a slit down the leg that left little to the imagination. The color matched the shirt Kate had given you earlier, everything orchestrated to a tee. The woman looked at you approvingly before she took striding steps towards the front of the building. Out of habit, you held the door open for you, another look sparkling in her dark eyes.

It was a restaurant that you had never set foot in. There was a sour, yet pleasant, scent of vinegar and cabbage masked with that of freshly baked bread and beef. The walls were painted deep green, black and white photos of rolling hills placed above empty tables.

It was clear what table you were to be led to. There was one in the center of the restaurant that was set up with a bottle of wine, and water. A candle burned in the middle, shading the woman who occupied it with shadows that stretched her delicate features. She wasn’t alone.

The woman had cropped blonde hair at the shoulders. Her hazel eyes were calculating, clocking Kate and yourself immediately. Kate pulled Natasha’s chair back, allowing her to sit before she took a step back. You flanked her sides, arms behind your back and stare trained straight ahead like a sentinel.

“Two,” the woman smiled devilishly, hiding it behind a glass of deep red wine. “Are you compensating for something, or someone?”

The woman who stood much like you did behind her boss was not masking her contempt towards you. She was familiar in an irking way that you paid no mind to. It was in passing, you were sure, but it was one of those itches that would worsen until you could scratch it with your whole hand.

“Not at all,” Natasha replied cooly, “I believe there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“Mm, there was. You know the Maroni property on the west side.” She leaned forward, placing her glass down. Her lips were stained in a dark red that matched Natasha’s dress. “I want it.”

“That’s a horrible way to say please.”

“Natasha, we both know it doesn’t serve you in it’s current position.” She put emphasis on the name.

“I fail to see how that matters. Just giving you the property is out of the question. That’s not how this works, but I do admire your gumption.”

“Then how exactly does, this work?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. Both you and Kate tensed. The vaguely-familiar woman behind Carol shifted on her feet in the slightest movement. “You kill one of my men and offer nothing in return?”

Natasha lifted her eyebrows “Exactly. This isn’t a bartering system, and it never has been. If I give you this building, it will change everything and I’m not much in the mood for a power struggle. What do you need it for?”

She seemed to falter “I don’t have to answer that. I’m offering to buy the property from you.”

“It’s not for sale.”

There was finality in her voice that rocked the room into silence. She hadn’t touched her wine, nor her water, and you figured she wouldn’t. Carol glowered at her, clearly not used to having her endeavors squashed with such ferocity.

Natasha took a steadying breath. “Is that all? It’s late and I’m tired of your graveling.”

She let out a sigh and crossed her legs, drumming her ringed fingers on the cloth-laid table. The flames in the candle seemed to react to her impatience. Kate’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she leveled the woman behind Carol with a fierce stare.

“I suppose. I want you to remember this moment, Natasha. I offered you a deal.” She stood and dramatically sighed once more. “This could have been easy.”

Kate always kept her eyes on Carol, on the woman who followed behind her with her hands shoved into her pockets. The darkness of a previous scar littered her collarbone. She had the same stare that Bucky had, that same determined anger that came with years of meetings with higher stakes than this.

“Oh, and Nat.” She stopped just short of the door, turning to face the three of you.

Kate reached for her weapon, and out of a blind trust, so had you. It was warm from its housed place against your side. In that moment, you knew that anyone else in the room would be a quicker shot than you. Still, your heart was beating quickly in your throat.

“I don’t know where your Winter Soldier is, but this is a sorry excuse for a replacement.” She laughed, a mean sound. “A kid and a burn-out… you should’ve taken the deal.”

She left without another word, leaving you in a chilling silence. For a few long moments, Natasha stared at the table, at her reflection in the syrupy red wine. Her fingers brushed against the glass, frowning.

“I’m twenty-three.” Kate let out in a single breath, eyes drifting from you.

“Don’t look at me,” You whispered back, “I am a burn-out.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos @cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #natasha romanov #natasha romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Marvel #Marvel Au #Kate Bishop #Mafia Au #request

494 notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

Text

୨୧ ＭｏｄｅｒｎＬｏｖｅ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: criminal!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!waitress!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: crime au/a mix of fluff & angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: Your friends always told you that Kim Mingyu was trouble but when he shows up unexpectedly at your job, covered in bruises with a bag of stolen money, you see how much trouble he really can be.

୨୧ Word Count: 3.5kish

୨୧ Warnings: mention of blood/injuries, a gun that's not used but is in there, strong language, unprotected sex, a lil bit of rough sex, fingering, creampie, & that's all I'm pretty sure

୨୧ A/N: I haven't written in a bit and I really wanted to start writing something crime related so here we are 🖤

There’s a lot you’ve come to tolerate waitressing at the diner. Customers with shitty attitudes who leave even shittier tips. Line cooks who get every other order wrong only to blame you because you must have mixed their tickets up somehow. The thin layer of grease that lingers on your clothes, leaving the scent of day old fries to haunt you even after you’ve washed your uniform a thousand times. All of that you can tolerate but this, your boss screaming at you like some psychopath, never fails to make your blood boil.

It’s always something with him. This time it’s that you didn’t refill the ketchup last night before close even though you weren’t the one who closed. The waitress who closed, a soft spoken girl who only started a week ago, called in this morning to quit just like every other waitress before her. The only girls insane enough to stick around are you and Moon, the waitress who trained you and the only person you’ve ever seen go toe to toe with your boss.

His screaming’s getting louder but you can’t even hear it. You zoned out ages ago. It’s like watching a TV on mute. If not for the growing redness of his face or the flinches of the passing food runners, you wouldn’t know a thing. Everyday you think about quitting. You lay in bed fantasizing about a life where you don’t have to put up with this to survive but in the end you always roll out of bed and show up.

What else are you supposed to do? You weren’t born into money and, luck never quite being on your side in life, it's not likely to just fall into your lap. So this is it. This. Is. It. Your stomach sinks as your boss steps closer, the veins in his hairy neck straining enough to pop a blood vessel. This can’t be it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Moon shouts, pushing through the double doors behind you. The noise of the kitchen cuts back in at a dizzying speed. Dishes clanking, grease sizzling, water running, cooks calling out orders.

“You don’t talk to me that way!” your boss shouts back, dialing down his rage as he aims it at Moon. She pulls her dark hair back into a tight ponytail, cornering him against a rack of dirty dishes. “You don’t talk to her that way! The next time I hear you yelling at her I’ll report you to the health department for all of the little critters we have running around here or would you like me to tell the customers first?” He wants to say something to her but he can’t.

He knows she’s serious enough that she’d pop on a glove and go show off the bug traps to every customer packed into the questionably clean booths of the dining room. “Get back to work!” he snaps, “Both of you!” With that he storms off to his office mumbling every misogynistic thought in his pea brain. Moon turns to you, giving you a hug. You let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the comfort of her arms even though she smells like sandwiches. You do too.

“I fucking hate him.” “Fucking hate him for sure” she agrees, “But I know something that’ll cheer you up.” “What could possibly make me feel better?” Moon grabs you by the shoulders and directs you to the small round window on the door, “Your boyfriend’s here. Looks a little beat up though. Wonder what he got into this time.” Before she can finish her sentence and launch into another lecture about your choice in men, you’re racing to the booth in the corner where Mingyu sits patiently waiting for you.

He spots you in an instant, jumping up to give you a hug and soothe the panic that paints your face. A little beat up is an understatement. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. A busted lip here. A bruised eye there. A bandaged cut on the side of his neck. His knuckles skinned and raw. Your hands don’t know where to go or what to inspect. They’re just frantically skimming his frame, dreading the next surprise. “What happened?”

Mingyu tries to downplay it, apprecating that you’re worried for him but still not wanting you to worry too much. “Baby, I’m okay. Calm down.” He’s lying and you both know it. Everytime something like this happens he tries to shrug it off, pretending that he doesn’t get hurt worse and worse each time he gets back from one of his "jobs". “How can I calm down? Look at you.” “Look at me? What does that mean? Don’t you think I’m pretty?” he teases, placing his hands on your cheeks. Even with his fingers all beat up and achy, he has the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt.

He smiles and all you can do is smile back. Of course you think he’s pretty, the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, and you’re a sucker for him in the worst way. So much that you forget for a few fleeting seconds that there’s the lightest spot of blood seeping through the crisp white bandage on his neck. “Cute but I still need you to tell me what’s going on” you persist, glancing back to catch Moon watching over you as she works her tables.

Mingyu turns you back to look at him, the wildness in his deep brown eyes thrilling and frightening you all at once.

“You trust me don’t you?”

“Ming—”

“Do you trust me?”

“I mean, duh, of course I trust you but—”

“Then quit” he says as if it’s nothing. As if this job isn’t the only thing paying for the hole in the wall apartment you rent up the street. “I can’t just quit. I need this job.” Mingyu presses his forehead to yours, bringing his arms around your waist to hold you closer. “Not anymore. I can take care of you now. I just really need you to trust me and come with me. We don’t have a lot of time.”

It’s impossible to make sense of anything he’s saying when he’s being this vague. You have a million questions and no time to ask them. “Hey! Play with your boyfriend on your own time!” your boss shouts from across the counter, “Get back to these tables before I fire your ass!” Mingyu’s jaw clenches, his temper ready to erupt on your boss for daring to speak to you that way. “I got this” you whisper, rubbing his shoulders to cool him down. He’s already had enough action for one day. The last thing he needs is another scuffle.

Your boss goes on rambling but this time you don’t drown him out. You hear every word. Every disgusting, vile thing he can spew in your direction. The thought of dealing with this every single day is torture. Mingyu's way out, whatever it is, has to be better than this. Your friends might not agree, Moon would surely have you thrown in an asylum, but you have to trust Mingyu or risk this being the rest of your life.

Grabbing a pitcher of ice water from one of the tables, you calmly approach the counter and throw it in your boss’ face. “Oh my god” Moon gasps, covering her mouth to hide her amusement. “Do it yourself. I quit. Mingyu, let’s go.” You march out of the diner, ripping your apron and name tag off as your sneakers hit the dirt of the parking lot. Your palms are sweaty, your heart’s racing, and you have no idea what’s gotten into you but it feels good. “That was sick” Mingyu applauds, kissing your fluffy cheeks, “I didn’t know my girlfriend was such a badass.” “Shut up” you giggle as he guides you to his car, a vintage deathtrap that his father gifted to him.

Mingyu seats you on the passenger's side, picking up a heavy black duffle bag from the floor and plopping it onto your lap. You stare down at it, too afraid to even touch it. With Mingyu’s line of work anything could be in this bag. Not a body, of course, it’s much too small for that. But guns? Drugs? “Just open it” he says, starting the car. You’ve been so deep in your own thoughts, running through the possibilities of what’s in the bag, of what happened to his face, that you hadn’t even noticed him get into the car.

Noticing your hesitance, he reaches over and unzips the bag. “It won’t bite, honey” he promises, turning out of the parking lot and leaving you to take in the bundles of crinkled money packed into the bag. You carefully pick one out, fanning through it like a deck of cards. There’s more money here than you’ve ever seen. More than most people will ever see.

“Whose money is this?”

Mingyu shrugs, flicking on the radio, “Mmm, it’s ours.”

“You asked me to trust you now I need you to trust me. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Mingyu made a promise to himself when you first started dating that he’d keep the other side of him hidden. He loves the way that you see him. You see him as his most ideal self. As the man he wishes he could be all of the time and not who he has to become when you aren’t together. But you were bound to find out one day and if today has to be that day then so be it. “You know how I do drop offs for the mob?” You nod, your fingers still petting the edges of the money like one would a new puppy or a luxurious fur coat.

“I do pickups too. Retrivals I guess. If people owe money and they don’t pay up it’s my job to go get it even if it means I have to hurt them...” He trails off, fearful of your reaction, but you only listen attentively, free of judgment. “Earlier I had one of those pickups” he continues, “Things got kind of crazy. A lot of people got hurt.” He flexes his hand, wincing at the pain. “Including me but, you know, at least I’m alive. The other guy...anyway. I was supposed to take the money back but I didn’t. I kept it for us.”

You insantly regret ever pressing him for this information. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss and you've just given it up. “So you killed someone?” “I kinda had to.” “Right. You kinda had to kill someone and stole a bunch of mob money now we’re—we’re on the run aren’t we?” Mingyu nods, chewing on the inside of his lip, “We are.” “Oh, fun. I’m dead. We’re dead. They’re gonna chop our heads off.” “No one’s chopping your head off! They don’t even do that anymore. It’s more of a burning the whole body thing. Buried alive usually.”

“Not helping!”

“I’m sorry!”

Mingyu tosses the bag into the backseat, freeing your lap up for his hand to massage your thigh. Your legs are shaky, every part of you is, and no amount of massaging can stop it. “This is a lot. It’s so fucking much. I can’t even…” Leaning your head back against the headrest, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. “I never meant to put you in danger” he says softly, “We spend so many nights talking about the life we want. A better life. You deserve it and I just want to give you that so when I saw the opportunity I took it. If it means anything, I’d die before I let anyone hurt you. I’ll protect you with my life.”

You open your eyes to catch him staring at you, his attention only half on the road where it should be. He means every word he says, no matter how fucked up his methods are. A part of you can’t stand him for what he’s done and you can't stand yourself for how small that part of you is. In a matter of minutes he managed to destroy the life you knew. A life you’ve been longing to destroy yourself for far too long but never had the courage to. You can’t hate him for that. In fact, in some strange, twisted way you've never loved him more.

You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. The two of you had plans to go out for dinner after you hopped out of the shower but hours of driving in no particular direction had exhausted you. The moment you sat down on the bed of the floral wallpapered motel room you were out like a light. Mingyu can’t bring himself to wake you up. You deserve the rest, he figures, after all he sprung onto you.

He has no real idea where you are. Your cellphones were tossed off a bridge two towns ago and every road sign in whatever nowhere town you stopped in is too faded too read. There’s no way anyone will find you here when you can’t even find yourselves. Even still, Mingyu finds himself pacing the floor in the darkness of the motel room, a handgun held tightly in his right hand. Paranoia weighing heavy on him, he wishes that he could fall asleep but every time he relaxes in the slightest another set of headlights beam through the curtains and he’s on his feet again.

What if someone followed you? What if they spotted his car? He truly would protect you with his life. But what if he failed? “Idiot” he huffs, hitting himself on the side of the head. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not hitting my boyfriend. Thank you very much” you yawn, stretching out, your eyes only cracked enough to make out his fuzzy silhouette. You snuggle up to his side of the bed, the blanket quite cozy against your bare skin for something that's for sure been here since the 90’s. You try not to think about it, your focus quickly shifting to the gun in Mingyu’s hand.

“When’d you get a...” you start but abandon your question. When’d he get a gun? That’s silly to ask. Of course he has a gun, probably a few. Why wouldn’t he? “Put that thing away and come to bed.” “You worry too much. I’m good. You rest.” Outstretching your arms, you pout and kick your feet knowing that he's a softie for your tantrums. “Five minutes. That’s it. Please” you whine and he’s already dragging himself over to the bed, reluctantly tucking his gun into the bedside table.

By now the haze of sleep has fallen away, offering you a clear view of the gorgeous man hovering above you. “Stop looking at me like that” he blushes, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. It sends sparks through your system, stealing your breath away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mingyu leans down to kiss you, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to ride the curves of your body. “You don’t?” he asks, nibbling at your bottom lip. He presses a thumb into the tender flesh of your thigh, feeling your body tremble the way you did in the car.

Only now it’s not because you’re scared. Fear is the furthest thing from your mind. It’s because you’re craving some relief, craving him, badly enough that the faintest brush of his thumb over your clit has you snatching him on top of you. Your tongue’s down his throat, legs thrown around his waist, hips raised to feel the bulge fighting to free itself from the confines of his jeans. Nothing gets Mingyu hotter than when you’re like this, clawing his clothes off as his fingers delight in the velvet warmth between the lips of your pussy. “Ming—” you gasp at how effortlessly his fingers glide into you. Your walls flutter in excitement as if to welcome him home and he couldn’t be happier to be back.

“You’re dripping, baby” he coos, pulling out just enough to glimpse your juices coating his fingers. You reach between you, finally feeling the heat of his cock in your palm, and stroke his length, collecting pearls of his arousal each time you run over the tip. “So are you” you tease, grinning at the way his hips stutter. With one arm holding himself up and the other busy between your legs, his muscles flex in a certain way that makes your mouth water. In your eyes his body’s a work of art and the feeling couldn’t be more mutual.

Your body’s so soft, so sensual, that he’s dying to be inside of you just to see the way your body jiggles each time he thrusts into you. Your muscles tighten, the ecstasy coursing through your veins making you feel lightheaded. “Make love to me” you say in the sweetest voice, not begging nor demanding, simply confessing how much you need him. Mingyu twitches in your hand, his heart skipping more than a few beats. Without a word, his hands are gripping your plush hips as he guides himself to your entrance.

He takes his time, rubbing the tip in the wetness escaping your core, bumping it against your clit to make you quiver. You rub his biceps, nails digging into his arms, giving him such a rush that he can’t tease you any longer. He delves into your core, feeding his length into you gradually until every inch of him fills you. “So beautiful” he whispers, kissing between your breasts as he strokes in and out of you. His tongue traces the contours of your breast, flicking at your nipple before his lips wrap around it. Nibbling, suckling, all while watching the faces you make when he hits that sensitive spot.

He’s throbbing inside of you, so tight against your walls that you swear you can feel the blood rushing through those pretty veins that run up his cock. It’s sweet of him starting out slow but you want more. You press down onto him, using the minimal space between your bodies to ride him, picking up the pace. Mingyu gets the hint, rising to his knees as he presses yours to your chest. “You said make love to you” he says, his hands tucked behind your knees, “If you wanted me to fuck you, you should’ve just said so.”

He kisses you ravenously, like he wants to consume you entirely, wasting no time pulling back to bounce you on his cock, his hips moving faster with each thrust. Mingyu palms the softest part of your stomach, caressing it as his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, feeling your breath as you cry out his name. “Mingyu—ah—yes—fuck. Harder!” you scream and this time you are begging.

Never being a man to deny you what you want, he obeys. Harder, faster, impossibly deeper, until you feel him in every part of you. Holding onto his wrists, you surrender, letting yourself get lost in him. So lost that you’re caught off guard by the sudden explosion of the pressure that's been building inside of you. Your lids barely fall shut before they’re shooting back open, your body quivering as your orgasm barrels down on you. Mingyu’s hypnotized by the sight of you, addicted to the way you gush and clench around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. So pretty when you cum for me, aren’t you? So so pretty. Mmm—.” He wants to hold back, to at least try, but it’s no use. How can he hold back anything with you? It only takes one more pulse of your walls for him to come undone, barely able to maintain his thrusts as he spills into you. You’d feel this forever if you could. The warmth and the fullness. You’re so greedy for it, taking every drop until he’s collapsed beside you trying to come back down to earth.

Using the last bit of energy in your body, you lay your head on his chest, tossing the blanket over the two of you. “Tomorrow you’ll teach me how to shoot?” Mingyu wraps an arm around you, gently petting your hair. “You? With a gun? No way.” You nod, intimidated but confident in your decision, “We’re in this together now aren’t we? It’s not just about you protecting me. I wanna protect you too. So teach me.”

His instinct is to tell you no, that he can protect both of you on his own, but he knows it’s not fair. He’s the one who drug you into this, the least he can do is show you how to defend yourself.

“I’ll teach you. Tomorrow,” he relents, “But tonight it’s back to sleep, okay?”

"Only if you promise to stay here with me.”

“Always.”

Silence falls across the room and, as you drift back off to sleep, you know there’s so much more to that “always”. “Always” doesn’t just mean tonight or tomorrow. It’s more than next week or next year. It stretches far beyond whatever hell might lie before you. It means forever. It means that Mingyu would go to the ends of the earth for you. And there’s no way you won’t be by his side when he does.

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen au #seventeen angst #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

458 notes · View notes