#it’s Upsetting how terrible the last few years have been | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redfoxwritesstuff · 2 months ago

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CW: Smut, blood, knots, ruts Rating: Adult Summary: Alastor and his Doe have weathered the passing of the seasons, though he has failed to define their relationship and she's been too afraid to ask. Now, Alastor's Rut is upon him and it's time for her to return the favor. Follow up to Antler Play

“Alastor?” you called out as you stepped into your shared bedroom, fluffy doe tail flicking in worry.

Alastor had failed to join you for pastries over coffee. It was terribly unlike him and you feared you had done something to upset him. The relationship between you two was something strange. You shared a room, slept in his presence and yet you still were not totally sure what you were to the buck.

He had been acting strange the last few weeks, scenting you when none were around. The musk of him clung to you, as if you needed any additional way for him to show his claim over you.

Yet, you didn’t know what that claim was or what it meant for your heart.

The door slammed shut behind you. Fear jumped through your system, forcing a squeak from your throat as you turned, looking at the door shrouded in shadows. They were too dark, too deep for the amount of dim light that was in the room.

He was in here, somewhere. You knew that. You could smell him. The crackle of his power danced over your skin.

“Cher,” his voice came from the radio sitting on the fireplace mantle, the speakers lighting up the way his smile did when he was more radio demon than deer as he spoke. “Remember how I helped you?”

“Alastor?” You turned, heart pounding in your chest as you looked for him.

“I’m here,” his voice came directly over your shoulder as his arm wound around your waist, lifting you from your feet.

His presence was overbearing as he carried you toward the bed, only to set your feet down on the carpet. Facing him, you couldn’t stifle the gasp.

The antlers atop his head were heavy, wide and branched. Dark shadows clung to them, dripping from the tines. Bitter musk was thick in the air, making your mouth water even outside of your season.

You were a sexual being, in life and in death. While you learned your seasons made you made with desire, you were not immune to it outside of that time like Alastor seemed to be.

Trembling legs took you a few steps back from the advancing buck, eyes black as coal swallowed bright red radio dials that looked back at you.

It all made sense. The last few months, Alastor had been more affectionate. He scented you more. He hovered more. He watched over you more. You thought something had changed between you. Perhaps he loved you, but.. he had entered his season.

His libido was awakening as his body prepared itself for his rut. He was a buck, but the way he looked at you made it feel very much like he was a wolf, ready to devour you.

“Do you remember how I helped you last year?” Static was loud in your ears, but at least this time the words came from the man you had fallen in love with.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart pounding so heard in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

“Will you return the favor?” Alastor’s bright red eyes ran slowly down your body, taking in each curve as he did so in a way he never had before.

“y-yes,” excitement ran through you, shooting down your spine as the large buck reached out for you.

“My doe,” his voice rumbled through the static, coming from all around you as he wrapped his arms around you.

Your feet dangled for a moment before you threw them around his waist. As he walked as if nothing out of the ordinary at all, shadows and tentacles ripped at your clothes. Stitching on the seams gave way. The fabric ripped- clothes fell from you in tatters.

Your body reacted instantly to the feel of him, to the feel of the static running over bare skin. The rich smell of forest and buck was all you could smell. Fire ignited in you, growing hotter with each deep lungful of him you pulled in.

Everything was happening so fast. As Alastor laid you on the bed, you realized he was naked. Never had you seen him bare and yet his clothes melted into the shadows without you even noticing. The bulbus head of his cock pressed into your waiting opening as he climbed over you, pushing your legs up and apart.

“You’re already ready for me,” Alastor said, though his voice came from all around as he thrust forward, length parting your walls in one smoothe stroke.

He throbbed inside you as his hips met yours. Or perhaps it was your wet cunt that was throbbing? You were not sure anymore as you arched into him. Gruff groans reverberated through his chest as he pulled from you, only to slam back into your wet cunt.

“Fuck,” you moan as his cock nudges your cervix, hot thick length spreading your core easily.

Each thrust came hot on the heels of another. Alastor set a brutal, violent pace as he reached down, grabbing your legs in his large hands. He pulled your thighs up, higher and higher, as he thrust into you. As your knees sank, so close to framing your breasts, Alastor groaned again.

Red radio dial eyes never left you as he thrust, hard and powerful, into your tight cunt, spread so open for him. Tentacles grabbed your legs, freeing his hands to hold your waist, pulling your core down to meet his hips in each painful blow.

It hurt to be taken by the Radio Demon but the pain felt so good, you couldn’t help the moans, prayers made up only of his name dropping from your lips. He shifted back, pulling your body down the bed a few inches just as the top of your head grazed the headboard.

He had fucked you up the bed. Reaching up, you braced yourself against the headboard. Alastor’s long arms made it easy for him to reach up, doing the same. The wood cracked as he used it for leverage, allowing him to thrust into you harder still.

“Fuck,” you moaned, fingers tangling in the bedsheets as he fucked into you again and again.

His grip on you was painful as he shifted, angling your hips and forcing your back into an arch. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your stomach, pushing out slightly with each thrust.

Desperate for anything, you dug your nails into his arms. You clung to where his skin shifted from the black stains of blood spilled that he could never wash away to the soft tan of his skin and the light covering of fur over it.

Sharp claws dug into your thighs. His hips slammed into yours, harder and harder, making you burn inside. You could feel every delicious impact, pulling breathless moans from your lips.

The pebbled buds of your nipples ran against the soft fur of his chest as he fucked into you, trying to reach as deeply as possible with each and very thrust.

“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll feel my cock in your pretty little cunt forever Dear” Alastor growled out, voice coming from the radio speakers as well as the man over you, “and after we’re done, I’m going to fuck you again, and again, until you can’t take anymore, just to make sure you’re so full of my cum, nothing else will fit”

“Alastor,” you whined, voice airy as you struggled against the force of his cock pounding through your insides, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Heat built inside you, being pulled forth by the pheromones wafting off of him.

“You’re going to feel my cum inside you as you sit for breakfast around all of those pathetic sinners. You’re going to smell of me. Everyone’s going to know you are mine.” Alastor snarled through his promises, claws sinking so deep into your thighs that you could feel the trickle of blood running up your legs.

“When I’m done with you,” his voice flipped, coming from him and the speaker, changing nearly every other syllable. “you’re going to suck me clean before I fuck you again”

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he continued to fuck into you. He couldn’t decide if he wanted our neck under his teeth or if he wanted your eyes on him as he forced you to cum on his cock. Did he want to taste you or see you as he marked you his?

“What?” You gasped out, losing track of where you ended and Alastor began.

“All you’ll be able to do is think of the way my cock fills you,” he promised, dark words pushing you closer to the edge. “The taste of my seed on your tongue. The sound of my voice in your ears. The feeling of my teeth in your neck. My hands on your skin. My claws gripping your hips.”

“Please, Alastor,” you begged for him, not knowing how to ask for what you needed. Never had you imagined him saying such things to you.

“Thoughts of me will devour your mind,” he swore and you were so sure he was right, “until you return to me, begging me to take you again.”

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out as his tongue ran over your neck.

“You will dream of me. When you touch your pretty little cunt, you’ll wish it was my hands. You’ll wish it was my cock. I will ruin you.”

You drug his face to yours, needing his kiss. It was the first kiss shared between you. What sweetness there was in it quickly dissolved into the fiery passion of mating. Sucking on his tongue desperately, you moaned and whined, needing him in all your holes.

You wanted nothing more than his full possession as you submit, your body pliant just for him as he continued his lust filled rambles, “You’re going to cum so much for me aren’t you pet, gonna drag my cum deep inside you while your little cunt begs for my seed”

Leaning forward, his lips found your neck. Folding over you, each thrust had more power yet. You wrapped your arms around him. The strong muscles of his lean back flexed and bunched under your touch. Your orgasm washed over you with sudden, drowning waves of pleasure. Accompanying your sudden orgasm was the grunting bleats coming from your lover.

His cock swelled inside you, pushing deeper and deeper with each thrust. The tip nestled against your cervix. Tears ran down your face as your opening was pushed wider with each thrust into you.

Teeth sank into your neck, grounding him in the coppery taste of your blood and you in the searing pain ripping through your body. It distracted you from the pain in your opening as his cock swelled; the base growing larger and larger as he rutted it inside you.

“Mine,” he growled as his body stilled, cock locked inside you as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into your fluttering cunt, painting your cervix with it. “Mine,” he rutted against you, hips rocking as he tried to push his cock deeper.

He stilled, lips placing soft kisses on bloodstained skin. Tall ears were pulled back, displaying the heavy antlers that clattered against the wall on occasion. Soft bleats filled your ears as your cunt continued to strain around his cock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin, “I seem to be stuck.”

“W-what?” you gasped as he tried to pull his cock from you and failed, his base far too swollen to slip out of your hole.

Soft caresses smoothed your naked skin as he waited, peppering kisses along the bloodstained skin. He wrapped you up in his arms, dragging you to his chest as he rolled onto his side.

“Mine,” he rumbled, rubbing the side of his head against the top of your head, ensuring he pushed more of the musky scent of him onto you.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, unsure if Alastor was in any condition to answer you truthfully.

“My doe,” he said, running his hand down your back as his still hard cock, trapped inside of you with the large bulbous knot twitched inside you. “No other bucks will touch you.”

“While we’re in season?” you braved asking, hoping that his rut was enough like your season to allow for a moment of clarity post orgasm.

“Forever,” Alastor said, again scenting you. He ran his hooves up and down your shin, spreading the toes and smearing more of his scent onto you.

“Mine,” Alastor said as he held you close.

“Mine.”

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caelesjjk · 1 year ago

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𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 - 𝕛𝕛𝕜&𝕜𝕥𝕙

⟶ title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 7.6k ⟶ warnings: Mnetions of blood and a wound, drinking, Jungkook calls you Data and Taehyung calls you Pigeon, infidelity-ish?? (you'll see), two smut scenes: oral (female and male receiving) mutiple orgasms, overstim, unprotected sex (thats a no, wrap it up) few different positions, making out, sweet kisses, nipple stuff ⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings, its been such a long time. I apologize this took so long but it's finally here! I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of spidey!kook and venom!tae, they're truly my babies and I have loved writing them. This is only part one, I make no guarantees how quickly part two comes out, but I'll do my best I promise. I'm thinking probably four parts for this. enjoy! tell me all ur thots! Shoutout to M (@here2bbtstrash), Sav (@jeonjcngkook) and Kay (@tea4sykes) for looking this over and correcting my insanity and also assuring me that it's not terrible lol. Thank you all so much for your patience and help.

“So where is he?” your friend Penny says from across the table.

“He said he was coming.” You sigh, stirring your drink with the straw.

“He said that the last two times we were all supposed to study together.” Hoseok gives you a look that’s part sympathy and part annoyance.

“He’s working three part-time jobs. Not all of us have our parents paying for our apartments, Hobi.” You give him a playful glare and he returns it, followed by a poke of his tongue from between his lips.

Part of you wished you didn’t know Jungkook’s secret. That you could go back to the days where you were blissfully unaware of who he was. But back then, being stood up hurt even more because you didn’t know why.

Now you know. You know that Jungkook is Spider-Man. The infamous superhero with powers he acquired from being bitten by a lab altered arachnid a few years ago.

He saved your life. Twice in fact. Both times it was because you were curious, too curious for your own good, and you had been suspecting something was going on with Jungkook.

You followed him one night and watched in awe as he changed into his Spider-Man suit in an alleyway. And not just because he was Spider-Man, but because he was insanely gorgeous. You were hypnotized by the man who had been sitting next to you as your lab partner for most of the year. Who constantly hid his body beneath baggy clothes and bucket hats.

You had always liked him a little more than you cared to admit. And after you found out the truth about him, your friendship grew into something more.

There weren’t any labels; you didn’t call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, much to your dismay. But Jungkook always told you that if the wrong person found out about the two of you, they could use you to get to him. And he needed to be able to focus on his whole saving the world gig, and not constantly worry about your safety.

You understood. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

You manage to study a bit longer with your friends before deciding you were far too distracted. You call Jungkook on your walk back to your apartment, but of course he doesn't answer.

So now you wait. And you worry.

No matter how hot the shower water is as it hits your back, it doesn’t stop the worry. You just want him to be safe, even if he pissed you off by not showing up again.

You wrap yourself in your favorite silky robe and get comfortable on your bed with some of your homework you didn’t finish with your friends, slowly getting immersed in all of the calculations and formulas that you love so much. They were a great distraction.

Not sure how long you’ve been studying, you get up to stretch and make your way to your apartment balcony, opening the doors and stepping outside for a breath of fresh air.

The city is always loud, but up here it isn’t so bad. The traffic sounds far away and the lights are just flickers across the skyline. You might even think it was beautiful if it wasn’t for the constant bad lurking around every corner. Or maybe you had just heard too many scary things from Jungkook.

Sighing when he pops into your head again, you turn around to head back inside only to come face to face with the superhero in question. Seeing him hanging there upside down from your doorway startles you just enough to send you stumbling backwards towards your balcony.

Before you can get too far, or even fully scream, Jungkook is shooting a web at your torso, pulling you back and into his arms as he flips down onto his feet. Your head swims from how quickly it happens.

“Data, look at me.” Jungkook’s voice is slightly muffled through his mask. “It’s just me.”

“You scared me.” You look up at him as he removes his mask and shakes out his hair, eyes finally meeting yours.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been…noisier.” Jungkook smiles and you almost forget that you’re angry with him. Almost.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing, it's just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half-hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers.

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are right in front of you, scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” he asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers really are something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality.

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you,” you whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off and sit them on the countertop before his hands come up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. It’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth.

“What does it want?”

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. No one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours. “But Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Kim Seokjin, more famously known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He was helping Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school.

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” you tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?”

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.”

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it, but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull back, but his other wrist shoots a web at your torso; using his inhuman strength, he pulls you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the solid feeling of being on the ground disappears and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge as he swings you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Just another minute.”

You keep your eyes clamped shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to peek just the slightest bit. You see the sun setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

You soak in the feeling of Jungkook holding you so tightly because you never know when the next time may be. You hate to sound so dramatic in thinking that way, but it really is a guessing game sometimes . Your hands loosen and slide up into his hair, making him look down into your eyes and smile when he sees how fondly you’re looking back at him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, even though there isn’t a single soul that could hear you up here.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth and then the other before the softness of his lips has your eyes fluttering closed. This kiss is only gentle brushes of lips, noses grazing in the sweetest way you can imagine, all the while Jungkook is still effortlessly swinging you between buildings.

He shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down. You kiss him once more before you open your eyes and look out at the nearly complete sunset…a thousand feet in the air.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” He kisses you again before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building, taking note of all the intricate filigree and gargoyle statues.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” You melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.”

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body hot and on edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

Your chest heaves at the idea of being completely helpless. He’s taken away your control and your ability to touch him as you please.

He makes quick work of the sleep pants you had been wearing, tossing them away to join the gargoyles on the rooftop.

“Jungkook…” you whimper when he lowers himself between your legs and lies down on his stomach so he can be face to face with your heat.

“Relax, okay? I’m gonna make it up to you.” He kisses a path down your thigh, sucking gently and caressing with his tongue.

You arch your back from the ledge when he pushes your panties to the side and his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy. Just a sweet kiss at first, then a deep, swirling lick to your clit. You pull against the webbing trapping you in place, fingers begging to be in his hair.

If only the citizens of his precious city could see him right now. Face buried and tongue lapping just for you. All of it for you and not for them.

You can feel tears start to form in your eyes from the way your orgasm is already so close to crashing over you. Jungkook has spent quite a bit of time getting to know your body and memorizing the things he knows that you like.

“Come on my tongue, baby. I’ve got you.” Jungkook soothes before his mouth is back to devouring you.

One particularly harsh suck to your clit while his fingers finally join in on the fun is what sends you over the edge, clenching around his digits in spasms.

You’re lucky that no one could possibly hear you all the way up here. The moans and groans that you both make while Jungkook licks up every bit of your arousal are beyond obscene.

“Please get this web off of me,” you huff between breaths. Jungkook slowly raises his head and with a smile on his shiny face, reaches up and effortlessly rips the webbing from your wrists.

You jolt upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your hands into his soft hair. Your mouths mold together automatically, your tongue tasting yourself from his lips.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook finally asks, pulling you into his lap.

“As long as I continue to pretend we aren’t thousands of feet in the air, I enjoyed it very much.” You both smile and you lean in to kiss the corner of his pierced lip. “You can’t always distract me with your extremely talented mouth though. I just…want you to try and be in my life.” You push some hair off of his forehead before he kisses your lips once more.

“It won’t always be this crazy, Data. I promise. I just want to make sure I help Jin as much as I can with this monster.”

“I know.” You want to tell him that you wish you came first. That there’s always going to be another monster keeping you apart. But that’s the price you pay for loving a superhero.

“Let me take you home?” He stands up, still holding you in his arms.

“Maybe let me put my pants back on first?” You laugh as he sets you down to retrieve your pants from a gargoyle statue.

And then you’re back in his arms and swinging back to reality.

The sun is still warm even though fall is almost in full swing. Leaves are starting to change colors and slowly drop off the trees. You love the smell of them as they dance by you on the breeze.

Something you don’t love is the damn pigeons that have made their home in the nooks and crannies of all the old buildings on campus. They fly down from their nests and make nuisances of themselves with the students, trying to get pieces of food.

You’ve been continuously shooing them away as you attempt to do your homework.

Sitting in the courtyard on top of a patchwork blanket, you’re lost in the numbers and formulas that keep you best distracted these days. So much so that you almost don’t see Jungkook before his head is in your lap and his smiling face is looking up at you, pigeons scattering about from his sudden movements.

“Good afternoon, Data,” he says cutely. You set down your notebook and pen, leaning down to kiss him.

“How nice to see you at school for once,” you tease, pulling his bottom lip gently between your teeth.

“Mm, things have been quiet for a couple of days. I got some sleep…and I missed you.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay down with him across the blanket.

“What are you doing?” You laugh and push against his chest.

“Making sure everyone sees me kissing you.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You comb your nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. “If the wrong person sees?”

Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes not meeting yours as his face scrunches in concentration. He abruptly sits up on his knees and you follow, looking around the courtyard.

“Something isn’t right.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet.

“What is it?” You continue to look around, seeing students walking to class or enjoying the sun in the courtyard like the two of you were.

Your eyes stop when you notice someone by the fountain taking photos with a professional type camera. His head of black messy hair is covered by a backwards black baseball hat. Long legs covered by snugly fit black jeans and his top half in a white button up, sleeves rolled halfway up in the most maddening way.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he’s suddenly looking right at you and you’re able to recognize who it is you’ve been drooling over. You feel embarrassment flood your face and body as you quickly look away, your heart racing in your chest.

Kim Taehyung. A photography student at your university. The best photography student if you remember correctly. You remember having a basic class with him your first year and he had seemed very nice. His smile was sweet, but the two of you didn’t talk to each other much at all.

You did think he was absolutely stunning though, sometimes wishing you weren’t too shy to have spoken to him back then.

Your classes must have all been different after that, but you still see him around campus from time to time. Always taking pictures, but always alone. And last year he seemed to disappear altogether before reappearing when the new semester started.

When you get brave enough to look back up at him, you see he has his camera pointed at you, snapping pictures. You look away again so as not to alert Jungkook of what’s going on. Taehyung smiles when you look up out of the corner of your eye, before moving on to take pictures of something else. Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, making you jump.

“I should be asking you that,” you manage to croak out.

“That weird sense of something being off is happening… I should go.” He starts to stand up and you grab his hand.

“What about this weekend? You’re still coming out with us right?”

He bends down and captures your lips in a quick but sweet kiss. “I promise I won’t miss it.” He gently nudges your forehead with his, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you watch him jog across the courtyard.

“Was that Jungkook?” Hoseok asks, sitting down across from you on the blanket.

“Um…yeah. He had to get to class,” you lie. Again. “Hey Hobi?”

“Yeah?” He stops grabbing books from his bag and looks up at you.

“What do you know about Kim Taehyung?” You nod towards the man with the camera, still taking pictures of some angel statues on the far side of the courtyard.

“He’s supposedly the best photography major at this school. He’s also…strange.” Hobi pretends to get a chill.

“Strange? Strange how?” You’re interest even more peaked than before.

“I don’t know, ____. I just heard some shit about him talking to himself all the time, and sometimes he comes to class all beat up.” Hobi brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

You don’t pester him any further, instead watching Taehyung as he takes a seat on a bench and starts scrolling through the pictures he’s taken on his camera.

Maybe people are making things up about him because he’s different. People don’t like different for some reason. But you…you tend to be pulled towards the different. Or it tends to find you when you least expect it.

Saturday night has come and almost gone, and you’re still waiting for Jungkook to show up at Club Onyx to meet up with you and your friends. You’ve been waiting for hours and downing drinks the longer you go unanswered.

You’ve called and texted him over and over with no answer and are finally ready to just give up. Hobi gives you that pitiful look as you slam your phone face down onto the table.

“Fuck this, I’m getting another drink.” You don’t say it to anyone in particular and you don’t wait for anyone to answer before slipping into the crowd towards the bar.

“Can I get a Long Island please?” you ask the bartender when she approaches. You slouch down onto a barstool and see a familiar face on the other side of the bar.

Taehyung. Sitting with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. The hat you usually see him wear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his curly black hair has been somewhat styled over his forehead. He’s still wearing a white button up, but he’s left the top buttons undone this time, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

“Here you go.” The bartender hands you your drink just in time for Taehyung to look up from his phone and see you already looking at him.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, taking your drink and making a break for the dance floor as quickly as you can.

The song playing isn’t one that you know, but as you chug down your drink you start to care less and less about knowing the song and just let yourself go. You want to have a good time and not mope about Jungkook standing you up once again.

You let strangers grind against you as you move across the dance floor, arms raised above your head and your hips swaying to the beat of the song. You’re a little tipsy as you place your glass down on the nearest table, but not enough to not know what’s going on.

A slower song starts to play with more of an r&b feeling. You watch as people start to pair off, the movements of their bodies making heat rush through you and settle on your cheeks and neck. You start to turn back to find your friends when you feel an arm slide around your waist, making you jump from the suddenness of being touched.

“Easy there, Pigeon,” a voice as deep as the ocean and smoother than satin says against the shell of your ear.

You twist your neck almost too quickly, eyes landing on the face of Taehyung. Your breath nearly disappears completely seeing him this closely.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but you don’t try to move away from him. God, you should move away but you can’t.

“You need someone to dance with.” He smiles and says the words with a matter of fact tone.

“I should find my friends…” Your brain finally starts to catch up and you move from his hold.

“One dance, Pigeon. Would be a pity to waste such a good song.”

“Why are you calling me Pigeon? I have a name.” You fold your arms over your chest.

“I know your name. But the pigeons at school seem to have really taken a liking to you, I couldn’t resist.” His boxy smile widens.

“You’re not being very convincing about this dance.” You try not to smile.

Taehyung puts his hand out asking silently one more time for you to dance with him. There’s that nagging feeling that you shouldn’t, but there’s a bigger part that says Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend, and he stood you up after he promised not to miss this night.

You take his hand.

Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulls you towards him, spinning you around at the last second to press your back against his front. You gasp when you immediately feel him lean over you and press his face into your neck, his nose skimming your skin.

His big but delicate hands find your stomach, slithering down until they reach your hips, slightly bunching your dress in his fingers.

He gently moves his hips and grinds against your ass in the most tantalizing way, reminding you that you did in fact agree to dance. Taehyung groans quietly in your ear when the pace of your hips becomes quicker with more added pressure from your ass into his crotch.

You let yourself relax against him, head falling back against his shoulder and exposing more of your neck to him. His impatient mouth finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he kisses a soft line across your skin.

“Can’t believe your boyfriend would leave you all alone out here where the monsters can find you.” Taehyung's deep voice vibrates through your body and settles into your core.

“I don’t have a boyfriend…or monsters.” The words come out sounding breathless as he continues to press your body closer to his.

“We think you do.” His long tongue traces the shell of your ear.

We? You let it go because your brain is too foggy with lust to wonder what that could even mean right now.

“I don’t,” you repeat, pushing thoughts of Jungkook away for just a night. Taehyung laughs quietly, pulling your lobe between his teeth as his hands move up your chest to cup your breasts.

You don’t even care who sees the way he’s touching you right now. You’re becoming so turned on that you know your panties have to be absolutely ruined at this point.

“Come home with me.” He spins you around to face him just as the song ends, your eyes fluttering open as he cups your face in his hands.

“That…I can’t.” Your eyes search his, hoping it will make you realize that you need to walk away. Instead, there’s something that tells you you’re safe, but that you’re also in for a world of trouble. You don’t know how you know, you just do.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Pigeon.” His mouth is almost on yours, lips just brushing as he whispers. This man is fucking undeniable.

“Okay,.” you cave. You just want to feel wanted. You want to matter more than a stranger on the street. You want Taehyung to make you forget how much it hurts when Jungkook lets you down over and over again.

“Good girl.” His warm mouth slots with yours as he kisses you feverishly. Like he’s been starving for years and your mouth is his only source of sustenance. It’s hot, fiery, and all-consuming.

Not even sure when his lips leave yours, you’re suddenly being pulled by your hand towards the club exit. Your brain clears and you look around for Hobi or any of your other friends but you don’t see them. And honestly, you hope that they don’t. You hope they didn’t see what happened on the dance floor and you hope they don’t see you leaving with someone who isn’t Jungkook. That would be far too messy to have to explain.

“Did you drive here?” You squeeze Taehyung’s hand and he pulls you closer to him.

“I did. I didn’t even finish my drink, I promise I’m safe to drive.” He eases your mind as the two of you push out of the door and turn towards the parking lot.

But your mind is only at ease for a mere minute before you realize that Taehyung is leading you towards what appears to be a very, very fast motorcycle. Everything on it is jet black and ridiculously sexy. You wish you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“I’m not getting on that.” You stop in your tracks.

“Why not?” Taehyung grabs the helmet off the back and offers it to you. “I’ll even give you the helmet.”

“I just…that looks dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Glad you’re honest,” you half-laugh.

“The bike is dangerous, but I would never let anything happen to you, Pigeon.” Taehyung swings one of his long legs over the motorcycle, straddling it as he waits for you to make a decision.

“We hardly know each other, Taehyung.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t keep you safe on my motorcycle, or that we have to know everything about each other to feel something.” He holds the helmet out again and you feel your mouth go dry at his words.

The danger aside, there is no going back if you get on that motorcycle with him. There is no way you would have an untainted conscience ever again. Every time you were with Jungkook from this day on, you would have to think about the fact that at this moment, you also wanted Kim Taehyung to fuck you.

That should terrify you more than it does.

You grab your phone and quickly open it to see no messages or missed calls from Jungkook. Your answer gets a little clearer as you reach out and take the helmet from his hand.

“Carefully,” Taehyung says, taking one of your hands and guiding you to straddle the motorcycle behind him. You settle the helmet onto your head, and Taehyung smiles widely when he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re ready.

When he starts the motorcycle, the vibrations from the engine immediately flood your body. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso as tightly as possible, and you wait once again for the world to go past you far too quickly. The same way it always does when Jungkook is swinging you between buildings.

When he pulls out of the parking lot, he doesn’t go too fast like you thought he would. He takes his time weaving between the cars and taxis, making his way through the busy streets and closer to the docks.

You don’t entirely hate the motorcycle ride. Nor do you hate the way Taehyung laces his fingers through yours and holds them against his chest, or the way he brings your knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss against each one while he steers with the other hand. You don’t hate the way he sometimes moves that hand down to tap your thigh to let you know he’s about to make a sharp turn. You wish you hated the motorcycle ride.

Taehyung presses a button on his phone and a door on one of the warehouses starts to lift up. He pulls through it, parking the bike once inside. Your legs feel like jello when you take his hand to try and stand up, stumbling a bit in his hold.

“Okay there, Pigeon?” Taehyung grasps the sides of the helmet and helps you take it off. He sits it on the back of the bike before coming back to help you straighten out your helmet hair.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You smile and so does he, fire moving through your veins the longer your eyes stay locked with his. You quickly clear your throat. “So, you live in a warehouse?”

“I used to live in the city. It was just too…busy. I needed space.” He takes your hand and leads you towards some metal stairs. But before he does, you notice several more motorcycles parked inside the open part of the warehouse. Who is Kim Taehyung?

At the top of the stairs, it opens into a large open loft area that has a surprising feeling of comfort to it. There’s a kitchenette off to the right with just the necessities: a fridge, small table, stove and microwave.

The left side of the room appears to be the bedroom. A big messy bed sits against a headboard with intricate black vines carved into the wood. Soft pillows are haphazardly lying in all directions, some on the floor with their feathers scattered across the room. Taehyung visibly stiffens when he sees you notice them.

“Sorry about those…I think I might have a raccoon stuck in here somewhere.” He laughs and moves to kick the busted pillows under his bed.

Strange. He’s a little strange.

“Do you need something to drink?” he asks.

“Should I be worried about being here, Taehyung?”

“What? No. No, I promise you’re safe.” He crosses the room and comes to stand in front of you, concern evident on his perfect face.

“I just…I don’t do things like this. I’ve never even had a one night stand.” You card a hand through your hair and Taehyung tips your chin up to look at him.

“Why does it need to be just one night?” His face softens and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Taehyung…I don’t know what I’m doing.” It’s barely a whisper.

His head tilts slightly to the side before it spasms slightly, an uncomfortable look painting his face as he shakes his head and gets the spasm under control.

“Stop it.” Taehyung grits between his clenched teeth, mostly to himself.

“Are…are you okay?” Your worry grows by the second.

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly, catching you off guard. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I’m not scared of you.” It isn’t a lie. You aren’t scared, but something is off. And you’re too stupid to leave. “Should I be scared?”

“Not of me.” He speaks as if someone else is in the room.

His mouth finds yours again and lust takes the place of worry and concern. Taehyung easily grabs your thighs and lifts you off the ground as if you weigh nothing at all.

The next moments are a blur of clothing being stripped and bare skin coming in contact with hands and lips. Teeth scrape over nipples and long fingers drown themselves inside your dripping pussy. The warehouse echos with the sounds of your moans and his deep groans.

After your first thigh shaking orgasm, Taehyung sits on the edge of his bed and you kneel in front of him between his knees, taking his far too perfect cock into your mouth. You worship him with your tongue and make him come down your throat, his hands tightly gripping your hair.

Chills run through your sweaty body as he bends you over his bed and eases his cock inside you. Stars explode behind your eyelids while your fingers grip the bed sheets.

“He doesn’t fuck you enough, does he Pigeon? You’re so fucking tight.” Taehyung’s fingers dig harshly into your hips as he mercilessly pounds you from behind.

You can only moan in response, the coil in your stomach tightening and threatening to burst again. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes and stain the sheets you’re so desperately clinging to.

His fingers suddenly start to feel sharper, like they could pierce your skin at any moment, past the point of hurting in a good way.

“Stop,” Taehyung growls and the piercing feeling of his fingers starts to let up. If your brain wasn’t so fogged by your oncoming orgasm you may have questioned who the hell he was talking to.

“I’m so close,” you whine, feeling Taehyung press himself closer to you, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and pushing you deeper into the mattress. The new angle makes you feel him so deeply that even your stomach clenches and the dam finally breaks; you’re falling off the edge of the most shattering orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Taehyung’s hips stutter as you clench around him, making him moan deep in his chest. When you can no longer hold up your body, he grabs your shoulder and flips you onto your back, then immediately slides his cock back inside your overly sensitive pussy.

You’re so blissfully fucked that it takes you a moment to focus your eyesight on his face. Sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead as you lift your heavy arms and dig your fingers into his hair so you can pull his mouth down onto yours.

“I almost…I almost lost control. You feel so good.” His tongue swipes into your mouth as he angles himself to hit your g-spot with every hard thrust of his hips.

“Please come, Taehyung.” Your nails dig into his back and leave scratch marks across his skin.

“Never wanted anyone as much as I want you…fuck we want you so badly.” He buries his face into your neck as he thrusts once, twice more before you feel him spill inside of you. Hips bruisingly tight against yours as his cock twitches each time more cum fills you up.

“Holy shit.” You move your hands back to his hair and gently lift up to see his face. You swear when he looks at you that all the color has drained from his eyes. They’re solid white.

You gasp and blink once, seeing Taehyung’s pretty brown eyes looking back at you in less than a second.

“Wh-what was that?” You’re still panting.

“What was what, Pigeon?” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek before he slowly pulls out and walks to his bathroom, giving you a chance to ogle his perfect little ass and the muscles of his back.

“I just…thought I saw something,” you say when he returns to the bed with a cloth for you to clean up with. You really need to get more sleep if you’re starting to see things.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung’s face is suddenly a lot more serious when he reaches out to run his fingers over the apple of your cheek.

You remember the way his hands felt on your hips. How they could’ve been on the verge of piercing through your skin. At least, that’s what you thought when it was happening.

Looking down at your hips, there’s obvious red marks from fingertips, but also scratch marks that just don’t seem like they could’ve come from Taehyung’s short cut nails. What the hell?

“I um…I think I’m okay.” You pull the covers up over your hips a little, hoping he won’t see.

“You should sleep here. I can take you home in the morning, I’m just too sleepy right now.” He pouts his mouth a little and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his side.

“Okay.” You’re admittedly too spent to call an Uber or argue with him about taking you home tonight. You just need to sleep. Sleep will fix everything. Tomorrow you will wake up and not feel like you’re losing your entire mind.

“…don’t ever fucking do that again…” You hear part of a conversation in your half asleep state. “I swear if you would have hurt her…”

Who the hell is Taehyung talking to in the middle of the night?

“She’s with the spider….liability.” A deep inhuman voice fills the empty air. Your eyes shoot open wide and every nerve is suddenly completely wired.

Are they…are they talking about Jungkook?

“She’s not. She said she’s not,” Taehyung’s voice answers, stress evident in his words.

“We should eat her now…”

“No! You’ll have to kill me if you think you’re ever touching her. And we both know you can’t do that,” Taehyung yells.

You wrap the thin sheet around your naked body and slowly move towards the railing that overlooks the open part of the warehouse downstairs. You stay back far enough so not to alert anyone of your presence.

Looking down, you see Taehyung sitting at a table with his back towards you, wearing his black jeans slung low on his hips and nothing else. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

And that’s when it seems like the shadows around him start to move and your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Because not only do they move, but they have a face. A terrifying face that is seeping from the back of Taehyung’s neck and moving around him …as it talks.

“You’re weak for her,” the monster growls deeply, its huge teeth and unnaturally long tongue becoming more apparent as it moves into the light.

“We had a deal.” Taehyung seethes. “I’m literally the only person you haven’t killed when you bonded with them. You need me to get your symbiote friends home and I need you to take down that fucking lab.”

You can barely believe what you’re seeing or hearing. Is this the monster Jungkook was talking about? The one breaking into the lab across the river?

“Aren’t we friends?” The monster asks in a condescending way.

“Not if you hurt ____. She has no idea what she’s in the middle of and it should stay that way.” Taehyung holds his arms out straight and the monster starts to wrap its moving pitch black skin around him…its skin becoming his.

You’re so startled by the sight in front of you that you stumble back, knocking over an end table full of magazines and books. Fuck.

“Shit,” you hear Taehyung say before the monster has completely consumed him. What stands in his place is something you will never forget for the rest of your life.

The monster must be at least 8 feet tall, huge bulking muscles made of that inhuman black skin that constantly appears to be moving. Its huge white eyes land right on you immediately, its mouth and teeth pulling into a wicked smile as it jumps into the air and clears the railing in a single leap. You scream as the ground crunches beneath its feet when it lands in front of you.

The monster looms over you and all the breath in your lungs disappears.

“What…what are you?” you croak, fear freezing you in place.

“We…are Venom.”

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies

series masterlist | main masterlist | Part Two

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook au #taehyung au #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts series #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #bts smut #bts fic #bts fluff #bts au #marvel au #entangled talks

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violet-eng · 9 months ago

Text

Reuploaded | fem!reader finds out bf!Neuvillette was in Qiaoying Village after the Lantern Rite | NSFW 🔞

This follows the 4.4 Lantern Rite story

Summary: You're Neuvillette's long distance girlfriend as you live in Liyue. After the Lantern Rite you find out he was wandering around Quiaoying Village (where you live) but left kinda angry. So you travel to Fontaine to find out if he's mad at you for dumping him by accident.

Warnings: NSFW 🔞 so MDNI. Established relationship. Dirty talk. Nipple playing, piv, Neuvillette refuses to let you cum, doggy, ah... and he licks you...

Wc: 2.8k

Reuploaded bc I accidentally deleted it 🙃

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵︵‿‿︵ ˚₊

You do not make irrational or spontaneous decisions. You looked at yourself in the reflection of the lake, completely bewildered.

You live in Liyue and eagerly anticipate the Lantern Rite every year. However, that year, you spent a couple of days in Monstadt searching for a location to open a tea branch...

The Lantern Rite had ended before your return this year, which was a huge disappointment. You missed the main celebration due to work. Additionally, you were shocked to receive Neuvillette's letter late. You had not informed him of your travel to Monstadt. Reading that he would have traveled to Liyue to see you, despite his busy schedule, made you feel guilty and remorseful.

Learning that Neuvillette had been in Liyue only a few hours ago caused you tremendous turmoil. Lady Furina tried to sugarcoat the gentleman's actions, but you know, even with all the nuances of Neuvillette, that he is disappointed.

So when Gaming's father offers you to travel to Fontaine in search of a location for his popular tea store, you don't think twice, moved by the regret of your actions.

It's terrible to think that a love quarrel is the only reason you would leave Liyue. You feel ashamed of the situation you've brought upon yourself. You arrive in Fontaine like an anxious lady seeking forgiveness. If shame falls upon you, it is already too late. You find yourself on the Aqua bus, headed to the Opera Epiclese.

Your gaze falls on the light blue modern landscapes of the city, which had left you spellbound during your last visit. On a previous business trip, you met Neuvillette, who transitioned from a casual fling to a formal relationship through correspondence and furtive encounters.

Although you have been to this place before, the walls seem unfamiliar, and you are not accustomed to the style and decor. As you enter his office, Neuvillette sits up in his chair.

He looks at you with an unfamiliar expression and says, 'It's late.' The tone of his voice is serious, and his gaze feels like a dagger piercing your heart.

"I know," you say, with your breath escaping your chest. The thought of Neuvillette's trip to Liyue and disappointment at not finding you at home frustrates you. You understand how he feels; if you were in his shoes, you would be deeply upset.

"I'm sorry," you plead, walking towards him and stumbling along the way. This behavior is not typical of you, but he makes you feel so pitiful. "I should have warned you that I wouldn't be home. I had a business trip and... I know you're busy. I shouldn't have taken up your time”.

"My dear" Neuvillette cuts off your words with a warm look and advances towards you, wrapping his arms around your figure, "why are you justifying yourself this way?" His concern is genuine, comforting, his gaze a deep sea of pity and understanding.

"You're not angry?" you ask, your face sunk into his chest, your hands clinging to his back, your fingers tangled in the stitched details of his cloak.

"Why should I be, my love?" Neuvillette leaves a kiss on your hair and soft caresses play down your back, loving rubs on your skin that soothe your so nervous heart.

"I heard you came back unexpectedly from Liyue, and that you seemed somewhat displeased."

He let out a friendly laugh, his voice deep and calm like the sea, his voice dances in the room.

"You would never do anything to displease me," he whispered into your hair, his lips brushing against your ear and cheek. "And if you ever did, we would talk it over properly. Don't ever think I'm going to be upset with you...What kind of person would I be if I let my emotions guide me? I apologize for any inconvenience my spontaneity may have caused. I understand that you have a time-consuming job, and I would never be upset with you because your priority is your job". He strokes your cheek and lifts your face to join your gazes in a bond of understanding and bliss.

"If anything," he adds, "I'm the one who should apologize."

"No, don't say that." You said, "It's always welcome a little mess coming from you, my dear judge," you caress his cheek. Then, you add, "Still, I was afraid you'd be wasting your time.

"During my trip, I learned several things. Your village is very interesting, my dear," he said, breaking away from your embrace and walking to his desk. He rummaged in one of his drawers, discovering a small piece of porcelain, a plaque with an engraved figure surrounded by runes.

"This..." you take it in your hands, recognizing the depiction of one of your nation's most beloved adeptic figures. "Neuvi... where did you get this?" you ask.

"I had the wonderful opportunity to learn about various local crafts," he explains with innocent admiration. Your dear dragon has been introduced to a modern world beyond Fontaine for the first time. "I thought you'd be excited about that. Even though it's a trivial detail..."

"My beloved Neuvillette," you rush into his arms, kissing his cheeks with great affection... "Then why did you look so serious when you left? Lady Furina suspected that something had upset you... I thought you were offended that I stood you up. And when I came in, you looked at me angrily..."

"I was worried that you arrived so late, traveling at nightfall is not safe... I told you that you should think more of yourself... I am concerned about your well-being, and your high level of empathy may become harmful to you... though it is certainly one of the aspects that has bound me to you," he says, "On the other hand, my departure from Liyue is due to matters of a higher caliber. Summarized in an old rivalry that I had no intention of taking care of at the time."

All the pieces fall into place perfectly, and you even come to regret thinking of Neuvillette as a curmudgeon.

"You must be exhausted," he says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it as if you were his queen, "stay with me tonight, rest today, and tomorrow we can go back to your place for the evening."

His home is warm, warm enough for one who knows little of human customs, and even warmer when he offers you a hot cup. A comforting drink for a long journey. Neuvillette, the oh-so-mighty Hydrodragon, Chief Justice and now ruler of Fontaine, kneels before you as the tail of his cloak ripples like a wave in a graceful movement of his hands. His fingers gently take your ankles between his hands as he removes your shoes, untying the laces with his long, delicate fingers.

His gaze rises to meet yours, his clear orbs reflecting his burning desire to possess your body at this moment, to give himself completely to you for your pleasure. His hands slide over your ankles and knees, searching for the edge of your stockings under your skirt. The warm air of the house hits your thighs as the fabric is lifted and the soles of your now uncovered feet receive the warmth of Neuvillette's body. It's as if his sultry demeanor is flooding the entire room in an overwhelming wave of heat and ecstasy.

It is as if the dragon is taking control of Neuvillette as you suddenly find yourself in his bed, naked and completely at his mercy. Months ago, this would have seemed like just another encounter, a chance meeting of fate and crossed paths, a lustful night full of forbidden and impure acts, but this time, after countless letters and meetings... it seems serious.

Neuvillette doesn't fully understand human feelings, or the sensations his body surprises him with, like the way his cock swells when he thinks of you at night, or the need to encircle his length when he receives one of your letters bathed in your perfume..... And much worse, he doesn't fully understand the burning that fills his heart when he holds you close, when you look at him with those eyes that are at once fearful and desirous, with an unholy innocence, the dichotomy of your expressions makes him agonize with love, because even though it took him a while, he finally understands that what he feels for you is what humans call love.

That is why he kisses you deeply as he stands over you, crushing your lips with his fervent intention to be reciprocated, to make it real and formal, although your visit has already given him a positive sign. He runs all over you, his hands sliding down the valleys of your body, shaping your figure with his palms, cupping your breasts between his nimble fingers, turning you over on the mattress so that he can enjoy the reactions that run down your spine. His heightened senses are alerted as the current flows down your back, as the skin on the back of your neck rises at the caress of his taut lips on your shoulder blade, the rough sound of his deep voice close to your ear, the warmth of his voice bathing your hearing, filling your head with the chant of his words of pure adoration.

"Neuvi~" you moan in an icy sigh, overwhelmed by the Iudex's perverse caresses over your body.

"When I knocked on your door and you didn't answer, I thought you didn't want to see me," he whispers against your naked skin, "I began to wonder what I had done wrong..."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Neuvi...ah~".

He kisses your shoulder, sliding his tongue over your skin, tasting the sweat you give off, the salt of your complexion on his tongue, the female poison.

"So delicious," he whispers, sliding down your back, his voice taking over the skin over your spine, leaving wet kisses in his wake and moans of your name as his cock swells more and more.

"I thought you hated me. That from one moment to the next you had stopped loving me," he kisses your waist, leaving faint bites across your curve, using such an informal language...

"I~. Mmhhh..." you moan senselessly. "I wouldn't do that to you..."

"I know, beautiful," his hands run up your belly, tracing naughty swirls with his fingers, "and for my own good, I will make sure tonight that you never stop wanting me, that you desire me and never anyone else, that the only thing that dominates your mind is the memory of my hands on your body and my cock in your pussy."

He plays with your hardened nipples, the little buttons straining at the naughty hands of the Iudex, who eager explorers your body.

"Ahg~ mmmm~ Neuvillette..." you mewl as you cling to the sheets that cover the Chief Justice's wide bed.

He shifts your posture as if you were ragged, your body toppled at the mercy of his hands and desires that lift your hips to align with his length.

The intrusion is slow and hot, stretching your sex to his form, expanding your desire to his hard love, wrapping himself in your wet embrace. The low growl he makes as he feels your pressure on him is opera to your red ears, the guttural moan that comes from his masculine chest is enough to make you wet even more.

"I missed you," he whispers, his shoulders tense and his nails digging into your skin, your hips settling against his, slowly easing into your deep, dripping desire.

His hands run down your back, caressing your waist, wanting to feel every bit of your experience, the cascade of overwhelming sensations escaping your delicate being. He enjoys watching how his cock loses itself inside you and how you wriggle at his relentless invasion. So delicate and so vulgar at the same time...wiggling your hips, rubbing yourself as you let out mellifluous moans and cling to the sheets.

"Neuvi~ I can't," you moan as tiny electric spasms erupt from your center, choking Neuvillette.

"Not so hard," he caresses your ass and thighs, trying to calm you down, "you can hold on, darling."

What a miracle you are in Neuvillette's eyes when he begins to move slowly and you manage to hold him perfectly. When his wandering shock of passion overflows you with the most overwhelming cries he's ever heard. How blissful he is to hear you babble his name as you suck his whole being with hunger and contempt.

"You're doing well, beautiful," his adoration turns to ambition, suddenly sneaking inside you, delivering the first thrust into your cervix, rubbing your knees against the bed.

"Ah!" you stifle a cry as he clasps your hands and rests his forehead on your shoulder, almost lifting your loins.

"Just like that, you're wonderful, y/n," his lips kiss your shoulder as his silver hair tickles your neck and cheek. It's like a sign of affection before the slaughter.

The heat inside you is overwhelming, your mind swirling with every deep thrust of Neuvillette inside you, every forced intrusion of anguish and desire. You cry out his name as if it will free you from the growing flame in your belly, as if it will unchain you from his thick cock slamming unceremoniously against your tight silken walls. You are a provocation, no, you are much more than that, you are the reason he succumbs to the crimes of his lust, his thirst for you. He is guilty of wanting you so much, of longing for your eyes and your body, your voice hoarse with his name like honey on your tongue. And he's a sinner for perverting such a pure angel, for taking your hips and pounding them relentlessly, for tearing strings of shimmering ecstasy that fall down your thighs, for those solid pieces of flesh that vibrate with his every move.

His hand touches your clit and in that moment you become a babble of pleasure, of unseemly moans and erratic movements. He praises you, praises you for how good your skin sounds against his, for the words you spit out between sobs, and freaks out when you beg him to stop, that you can't take any more of him, that he's too big.

"For my precious y/n, everything you ask," his rough voice creeps into your core, forming a steaming knot, "except that...". He just can't let you cum, not when he's willing to keep you at his mercy for hours.

"Please!" you sob pleadingly. Your voice is clipped and raspy.

"I need clear instructions, my love."

"Please let me cum," you are pathetic under him, moaning in anguish for a show of sympathy, though he only lets out a bitter chuckle of satisfaction.

"You're too good for me to make you beg this much," he says, quickening his pace, becoming frantic and almost primal, warping your insides and making your body his, crumbling what little sanity you have left, making you contract around him with a scream and cum.

Neuvillette's indiscretion causes him to explode inside you, releasing thick strands into your belly as he lets himself be led into the ecstasy of his madness, losing himself in the swirls of your delirious moans.

"My beautiful y/n," he steps out of you and kisses your forehead, turning your body over and cradling your humanity in his big arms.

The night is long and when you catch your breath, you discover Neuvillette's predatory eyes peering into the darkness, you like his treasure and he the dragon guarding you.

"Sleep," you whisper, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"I like watching you sleep," he says, "and smelling you... you have a strange scent.

"Maybe it's the mixture of the soil of my village, the water... and you," you smile, "By the way, when we get back to my place, remind me to offer you some of the local spring water.

"Ah... my precious one. You know me so well that you could cause my own downfall. I had the pleasure of tasting the water in the village, and I am very grateful for your sample. However, I must admit that the spring I enjoy most is between your legs."

"Neuvillette!" you laugh in embarrassment.

"I could eat you all day, y/n," he purrs, dipping his face into your breast, "and yet I would limit myself."

You stroke his hair, the blue strands that creep through his scalp, everything about this man fascinates you.

"Stay at Fontaine," he whispers against your chest, fighting the drumbeat of your excited heart. "I think the new tea branch needs a manager...".

The reality is that Neuvillette would not stand another day of exchanging letters, not when she has tasted you so passionately and cum inside you, not when he is just getting to know these strange and lovely human feelings. He wants to learn to love you as a man would, and so he needs you near him to give you all the love and care that a good lover would give his woman.

#neuvillette #neuvilette smut #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin smut

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startanewdream · 3 months ago

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A small Harry and Minerva moment, set after the final battle, in honour of Minerva's birthday.

*****

"I am not coming back," Harry blurts out. Next to him, Minerva's only reaction is a flicker on her spell: for a moment, the broken chairs of the Transfiguration classroom get extra pairs of legs that make them look like spiders.

When the chairs go back to normal, she turns to Harry with an impassive look.

"I imagined so."

Harry blinks. "You did? You never mentioned anything."

Minerva shares his surprise. "It was not my place to say anything. You are of age now."

"So all this time I've been helping here at Hogwarts, you just knew and went along with it?"

"Would it please you if I say I do not agree with your decision?"

"Yes, actually."

There's a hint of a smile on Minerva's lips. "I think you should come back to school."

"Oh." Harry looks down at his feet before moving to fix the bricks on the wall. Despite what he just told her, it's undeniable that this was not what Harry wanted to hear. "You think I am not ready?"

He sounds young. It's difficult to match this adult Harry — nearly eighteen-year-old, tall like his father, and spotting too many scars for his age — with the eleven-year-old who was sorted into her House, but that's the memory that resurfaces: Harry is eleven and he was caught out of his bed at night, losing 50 points to Gryffindor. He'd looked upset at the idea of being a disappointment.

That's how he looks now.

"You are of age," she repeats, her voice more tender than she allows herself around him, lest she betrays her soft spot for him. Harry's eyes are hungry as he turns to face her. "You faced more than any exam could measure — you faced things that cannot be measured." She thinks about the unconfirmed tales of a sacrifice and master of death, and it's not easy to match this with a boy worried about homework and deadlines. "From an educational point of view, I believe your time at Hogwarts has concluded."

Harry watches her. "But?" He guesses.

She allows herself a little smile. "But education is not all Hogwarts has to offer." She remembers seeing that scrawny kid laughing as he first took flight on a school broomstick; three friends sitting outside on a winter afternoon, bundling up next to a warm blue fire and sharing tales; a boy and his girlfriend, walking hand-in-hand through the halls, oblivious to any gossip. "I would be glad if you returned only to enjoy your Seventh Year as a common student. No threat. No drama. Just school."

"Just school," he repeats, his gaze far away now as if he could see it. Then Harry blinks. "Hermione and Ginny are coming back. Ron is not, though."

Minerva nods. She won't say it, but sometimes she wonders if the fact that Ron Weasley isn't returning isn't what's weighing most on Harry. Inseparable like brothers. Like father, like son.

"Do you think my parents would be okay with it?"

This time, the question baffles her; she's glad she wasn't transforming anything because it might have been disastrous.

"I do not believe I am qualified to answer this, Harry," she says.

"Ah, it's just —" He holds the back of his head, ruffling his hair, unaware that this was what James did when he was embarrassed. "You are one of the last people that knew them."

And this, as far as Minerva is concerned, is a terrible thing. James and Lily would be only thirty-eight if they were alive. She has lived now nearly four times what they did; how is it that there are now so few people that knew them?

Harry looks young once again. She knows he's made up his mind — and like Lily, he's adamant once he's decided something —, so this need for validation isn't what she associates with the young man she saw standing up to Voldemort one month ago.

But for all his deeds, Harry is just a boy who grew up longing for his parents — parents who had loved him fiercely, she knows. She doubts Harry might ever do anything that James and Lily wouldn't support — God knows Minerva supports him, and she isn't even his relative — but she also thinks they would insist that Harry return to his final year.

Seventh Year. That had been the year when James and Lily were Head Boy and Head Girl, and the future had looked promising to both. That had been the year when they had started dating; when the darkness of the war hadn't yet tinted their lives. When they had been the happiest. How could they not want the same for Harry?

But that's not what she tells him. "Yes," she lies calmly. "James and Lily would approve it."

Harry breathes easily. "Thanks." He moves to fix another desk, not noticing how, a long time ago, someone carved JP+LE in the wood.

Harry's spellwork is good. He might enjoy some refinement, but she doubts he will be fixing desks in his future job, so instead of commenting on it, she just lets it slide.

"Of course," she notes with a hint of humour, "if you came back, it would not have been all fun. I would have high expectations for you."

"Quidditch?" Harry guesses. "I'd say that Gryffindor is safe in Ginny's hands."

"I enjoy the Quidditch trophy in my office," she agrees. "But alas I was thinking about another responsibility. A Head Boy badge would suit you." Harry's eyes widen; she is once more sorry for not insisting harder with Albus that Harry should have been made prefect. "As it did your parents."

Harry smiles. "I would enjoy that."

"There are tons of paperwork, I might warn you — though not unlike being an Auror." Harry chuckles. "But either way, Harry, your parents would have been proud."

As I am proud of you, she thinks.

#minerva mcgonagall #Harry and Minerva #gen fic #dh missing moment #for minerva's birthday

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loganhowlettshousewife · 9 days ago

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both.

logan howlett x bisexual!reader / (pre-poolverine x bisexual!reader)

summary: the worst wolverine comes from a universe very different from this one. a universe where things aren't as great for queer people. so naturally, he panics when you ask him if he has a crush on his roommate.

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of homophobia, self-hatred/internalised homophobia from logan, logan has a crush on wade and reader does too

series masterlist - my masterlist

golden light streams through the windows, only occasionally broken by a shadow when a particularly strong breeze passes by, making the curtains dance. you’re cuddled up in bed with logan, bodies pressed together, a tangled mess of limbs, your legs thrown over his lap, a book long abandoned at your side - you find it much more interesting to trace the lines of his face with your eyes, memorising him.

you’re passing the same words over in your mind, rephrasing them, hoping to find a good way to broach the topic. it’s not a conversation one typically has with their boyfriend, so there’s no preset script to follow, nothing to use as a guide. you worry at your bottom lip, and logan reaches up to pull it out from between your teeth the way he often does when you succumb to the bad habit. it’s the kind of ease shared by couples who have been together for years - it shouldn’t be this easy, this comfortable after a mere few months with logan, but somehow it is.

he knows something is bothering you, you’re not particularly adept at hiding it, but he’s allowing you the silence to find your words, even if it’s not at this moment or today or even this week, because you always tell him eventually.

“you’re very close with wade,” you say at last, deciding to gently approach the subject, as if dealing with a frightened animal, no sudden movements or sounds.

“i guess,” he grumbles in response. their dynamic is interesting, a constant back and forth, forever toeing the line between teasing and genuine arguing, the fighting - both physical and verbal - acting as a release of tension for the both of them. when you’d first met logan, he had been adamant that wade was merely an annoyance that refused to leave him alone, but he’s reached a point where he can semi-comfortably admit that he enjoys their relationship.

you’re hoping this won’t destroy what’s between them, the precious understanding found in each other, an understanding that no one else will ever be able to give them. both cursed in similar ways, bodies healing from every injury, (mostly, probably) unable to die, craving violence and revenge against the world that has already taken so much.

“i don’t know how else to ask this. normally, i can find the right words eventually but it’s not really about me.” you continue, forewarning him that the line of questioning is abnormal, “do you like wade?”

the world stops for a moment; logan freezes in your arms, his whole body tense like an elastic on the verge of snapping, his eyes devoid of the soft happiness that had been aimed at you not even two minutes ago. you can practically see him rebuilding the walls you’d worked so hard to break down, his old emotionless mask sliding onto his face.

“why the fuck would you ask that?” his voice isn’t low the way it is when he’s genuinely angry, when his temper gets the better of him, when the natural predator that lives inside logan comes alive. it’s higher, a sign that there’s more than plain anger causing him to react this way.

you’ve seen logan in many states, several of which were terrible: covered in blood, clothes tattered from a fight, absolutely wasted out of his mind, furious. but this is new, anger and upset and pain and hurt and guilt, you can see so many different emotions flashing in his eyes, changing too fast for you to decipher any of it.

he pulls out of your arms, stumbling out of bed in his haste, pulling on a stray pair of jeans that had been left on the floor last night in your haste to pull him into bed with you. the empty air beside you is freezing, the loss of logan’s body heat palpable. you know about logan’s tendency to run, to leave when he felt too much, but he’d never before done it with you.

“logan-” you try to say, sitting up in bed, blankets a mess around you, your relationship seemingly in a similar state.

he’s shrugging on a shirt and sliding out the door before you can come up with the words to ask him what’s going on, to ask him to stay. he stops at the door of your bedroom, and for a moment you wonder if he’s changed his mind.

“don’t bring that shit up again,” he growls, “i’m not like that.”

the thing is, you’re quite certain logan is like that, as he’d put it. you’ve noticed his gaze catching on attractive men on occasion, lingering a little too long to pass as anything other than what it is. you don’t mind - being in a relationship doesn’t suddenly make you blind to the other attractive people in the world, and they’re always fleeting glances. when he looks at you it’s with a single-minded focus that had slightly scared you in the beginning, an intensity that read as if you were the only person in the world to him.

it’s most noticeable around wade, not that you can blame logan for falling for wade’s eccentric charm when you’d done the same. it’s endearing to watch him, flustered and simultaneously pissed at himself for having that reaction when the merc flirts with him, making his quips a little sharper than usual, though wade always knows how to respond.

(one might think that wade doesn’t know how to respond to logan’s irritation, since many conversations between them descend into bloodshed, but the truth is that when wade says the wrong thing, it’s often on purpose. he knows which buttons to push to get logan truly riled up, and he thinks it’s hot when logan stabs him.)

and besides, you doubt someone truly straight would have that extreme of a reaction to the question, the insinuation made with it. maybe he’d have been disgusted, made a few comments about how he’s only into women, potentially also sharing a few borderline-homophobic quips, but running away? that signals fear.

you can’t go to wade, not willing to break logan’s trust. you’re not in the business of outing people, though you strongly believe wade already knows. he may act like an idiot and jump headfirst into dangerous situations without considering the consequences, but he’s observant, he has to be in order to be so good at his job.

it’s also very likely that logan has gone to wade’s place. there are really only three places where logan spends his time: wade’s (and technically logan’s, though he refuses to really acknowledge that) place, your apartment, and a very specific shady bar - though he’s tried to cut back on drinking lately.

you stay home all day, lingering in the apartment, hoping logan will return. you clean the entire house top to bottom, restless energy manifesting in a need to keep moving, keep doing anything to distract yourself from the way your blood feels like it’s buzzing in your veins. afterwards, you sit on the couch of your newly cleaned apartment and stare blankly at the tv as an episode of your favourite show plays.

you’re lost in your mind when logan does eventually return, barely able to hear the show over the rushing tidal wave of your thoughts. you’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of the door shutting, the shuffling of logan removing his boots, the clang of his keys in the small bowl you keep on a hall table by the entry.

he joins you in the living room, settling down on the couch opposite you, not touching but close enough to offer the comfort of his presence. your knees are tucked to your chest in your attempt to keep to yourself, a blanket pulled tightly around you, unsure which boundaries are in place during a moment such as this one.

“i’m sorry,” you say before he has the chance to speak, “i shouldn’t have ambushed you with a question like that. i just want you to know that i really didn’t mean anything negative by it.”

logan sighs, a pained sound, “i shouldn’t’ve left. i wanted to call you after, but i left my phone here. i’m still not used to having one.”

“why did you run, logan?” you ask, “i need to know what part of the question caused your reaction. was it the implication that you like guys? or wade specifically? or just anyone that isn’t me? because i wasn’t accusing you of cheating.”

his hands clench into fists, tightening and letting go, repeating the motion as a method of self-soothing that isn’t violence. he wants to bring out the claws, so used to being able to fight his way out of difficult situations. it’s been a long time since he’s dealt with his problems in a way that didn’t spill blood and his emotions through anything other than a bottle. communication isn’t his best trait.

“it’s different here than in my universe,” he tells you eventually, “i’d be killed if anyone found out i was-”

he stops, doesn’t say the word. he doesn’t have to, you can put the pieces together yourself.

so you wring your hands in your blanket, feeling the texture between your fingers, trying to shake off the nervous energy that always washes over you when you have to come out to someone, no matter how many times you’ve said it before or how sure you are that they’ll have a positive reaction.

“i am,” you say, “i’m bisexual. i like both. wade’s pansexual. he likes everyone, doesn’t care about gender as long as they’re hot and a little bit crazy, is what he told me. if you’re queer in some way, that’s great, and if you’re not that’s okay too. but you won’t be killed here logan, it’s legal. yeah, some people are still homophobic, you get looks or comments, but it’s largely accepted, at least in america.”

he leans across the barrier of space between your bodies, breaking the metaphorical line you’d drawn in the sand to pull you into his arms. he kisses the top of your head, his breathing shaky. he’s trembling, so lightly that you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t holding him so tightly, his distress invisible to the eye.

“both.” is what he whispers in the sliver of air that still separates your mouths before kissing you deeply. it’s as much of an admission as you’re going to get. you don’t expect logan to become comfortable with his sexuality immediately, so used to the hiding and the guilt and the fear.

unlearning habits is hard, terribly so, and yet he’d managed to speak it into existence for you to hear. you return his kiss with equal passion, hoping to convey how proud you are of him, how nothing has changed between you, he’s still your logan, your stoic and dramatic boyfriend from a different universe that somehow stumbled into your life.

your lips meld together, soft and sensual, passionate but not rushed. it won’t lead to anything further, not tonight, not when you’re both still recovering from your respective emotionally challenging days. the tension you’d held onto all day, worried that you’d ruined the best thing in your life, falls apart under logan’s touch.

you hope your touch does the same for him, that with every brush of your hands in his hair he recalls your words, that he physically feels your adoration for him in the way you press your bodies together.

“but really, do you like wade?”

he groans, his flushed face the only answer you need. he’s not ready to do anything about his crush yet, can’t even say the words aloud, but you know and wade knows and logan knows. you’ll get there eventually, and you know the wait will be worth it in the end.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

bisexual reader: @spencerswh0r3

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chaotic-mystery · 25 days ago

Text

Code Red | Chapter Eleven: I Only See Daylight

Pairing: No outbreak AU dbf!Joel Miller x f!OC (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: You're back in Texas after going on vacation with Joel and needless to say, shit hits the fan.

Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, written in 2nd POV, no use of y/n, broken father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, dd/lg relationship dynamic, serious conversations about kid(s), allusions to sex & taking photos during sex, swearing, mentions of drinking, reader smokes & sometimes Joel, A new song introduced to the universe!, hidden relationship, Joel wanting to fight your dad, the start of everything falling apart. Texts shared between reader & Joel.

Authors Note: Here we are. I know I haven't touched this story since May 14th and I'm not done with them quite yet. I plan to write ahead moving forward so I don't leave anyone on a cliffhanger. This is 100000% not beta'd (I didn't want to burden anybody) so the mistakes are all moi. There's little eggs hidden of when this was written and I hope you giggle when you catch them. Thank you if you're still reading their story, I don't plan on leaving again <3

|| wc: 4.8K || divider by @/anitalenia || previous chapter || series masterlist || main masterlist ||

It had been a few days since that night Sharon came by and woke you up at two in the morning, sticking her nose in your business about Joel.

She was only worried about your dad finding out and how he would react, she said she didn’t tell your mom and nothing seemed different when you went over to her house to drive into town to shop, but it was eating away at you if she was actually putting on a show just like you had been.

Sharon warned you to be safe and reminded you she was there if you needed anything but the way she was going about this worried you. She failed to mention how you should break it to Sarah and you hadn’t even begun to think about how to have that conversation with her. Do you just…show up on the porch one day and tell her you’ve been seeing her dad for almost the past year?

Scratch that, that’s a terrible idea. It was a conversation to be had with Joel and the last thing you wanted was to feel like you were replacing her as the number one woman in his life. All you ever dealt with as a kid was your dads girlfriends making it feel like a competition for who he loved the most and unfortunately you were never a first place winner.

“Honey? Do you like this?” Your mom’s voice becomes clearer as you’re once again yanked from the seat inside your thoughts to the present time.

The bright green hoodie she was holding up was so bright you damn near needed sunglasses just to lay eyes on it. Every muscle in your face fights to make a disgusted look but knowing your mom would be upset, you keep a straight face and quickly scan the metal racks surrounding you for a different option to counter it. Like a magnet, the pink hoodie with chunky writing on the back nearly jumps off the hanger and into your arms.

“I think this one is a little more me, you think?”

She nods her head and takes it from you, throwing it over her bent arm in front of her body. She told you to pick out something from the souvenir shop and she’d pay for it, also meaning to find something for Joel. What could he possibly want from here? He wasn’t really a hoodie kind of guy, especially not down in Texas when he was outside practically all the time. He had more than enough trucker hats to last him the rest of his life.

“So tell me more about Joel, sweetheart, what’s his normal life like?”

“Well, he’s my boss but that happened after we started dating. Umm, I mean he’s my neighbor which was also before we started dating, promise I didn’t move closer to him just because we’re together.”

Your mom nods with a small smile, her face relaxing as you soothe her mind in knowing she taught you well not to move so fast with someone you hardly know.

“He um, he’s got a kid..” you scratch your head and spin around to look at the clothes behind you, her eyes burning into the back of your skull. “..it’s really not that big of a deal, I don’t think. I haven’t really met her yet. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to replace her mom or take her dad from her.” The quiver in your voice surprises you both and your mom spins you back around, rubbing your arm caringly.

You were terrified, truthfully. Telling Sarah about your relationship scared the shit out of you. Even thinking about Joel asking you to be responsible with Sarah scared the life from you.

“Mommy, I’m so scared. What if she doesn’t like me and he breaks up with me? I mean, I wouldn’t want him to stay with me if she’s unhappy about it. I just…I love him.” Your voice was just above a whisper and the words felt as if they were slicing your throat on the way out.

She says nothing as her lips pursed together into a frown and pulls you into her arms, hugging you tightly. Once more you felt like a little girl needing the comfort of your mother when things got tough.

“You’ll be okay, I know it. Listen to me-” her hands grip your face to keep eye contact with you before she continues. “-you know better than anyone what that feels like and you’d do anything to protect that little girl, even if that means not seeing him anymore. You don’t have it in you to be that cruel. Just be yourself and she’ll see how happy you make him.”

Hearing testaments about your character always made you feel weird inside. It was never easy hearing how other people see you, especially when it’s positive. You look at her and she smiles assuringly before kissing the top of your forehead.

“Come on, let’s find something for Sarah.”

Holding onto the little beaded keychain in your hand, your mom pulls up to the quaint cabin you unfortunately had to say goodbye to tomorrow and she rubs your arm softly.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. Just be honest with him about your feelings with this. It’s all valid.”

You breathe in deeply and release the air out of your mouth, nodding at her.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to go see him. I love you, I’ll stop by on the way to the airport.”

You hated goodbyes. So it wasn’t saying goodbye to her, it was just telling her you’d see her later. You kiss her cheek and grab your bag of goodies from between your legs on the floor before getting out, standing out of the way so she could pull off. Jiggling the plastic bag in your hand nervously, you dig around in your purse until you feel the smooth carton of cigarettes and lighter clanking around inside.

The gray flint rubs against the pad of your thumb as you ignite the cigarette held between your lips, walking up to the small wooden porch to sit in the white rocking chair under the window. Too many thoughts about Sarah and all the ways she could react flood your thoughts again as you take a big drag to erase it all. Joel pushes the screen door open just enough to slip through and he nudges your knee gently.

“Hungry? Made BLT sandwiches if you want one.” Joel presses a kiss to your cheek before taking the cigarette from between your fingers and taking a drag.

“Tempting, maybe. I got you something from town, though!” You try to make it seem like you weren’t bothered by anything but he could read you like a goddamn book.

You were his favorite one.

His eyes fell to the bright blue shirt you were pulling out of the plastic bag, chuckling to himself before he even got to see the design. You finally get it out and flip it towards him so Joel could see what you picked out for him.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. This is awesome.”

Joel’s fingers trace over the goofy design of the state drawn as an old fashioned cartoon with feet holding it up and bright yellow letters across the top. He stares at the piece of clothing for longer than normal, continuously rubbing over the painted letters. The thought of you buying it for him, spending the time to find something he would wear, it meant a lot to him and it was written all over his face.

“Thank you, baby. I love it.”

Joel sets it in the chair next to you and places both hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until he’s eye level with you.

“My pretty girl, what’re you thinkin’ about in here?” As he finishes saying his sentence he bumps his forehead into yours, resting them together comfortably.

Joel turns his face to the side for a moment to take another drag of the shared cigarette and he blows the smoke quickly to return back in position. Your eyes close as you relax against his touch, the slight breeze rustling against the trees and drowning out the sound of your mind screaming at you. The dooming thoughts of Sarah knowing about this could wait, you were here with the man of your dreams, having the time of your life and it was the last night before you had to unfortunately return to Texas and go back to hiding something you were so proud of.

“I just wish we could run away somewhere where we don't have to hide our relationship. Where I can walk into the grocery store with you and not worry about still holding your hand, wondering if someone who knows my dad is gonna turn the corner and see it. I just- I want to love you loudly like you deserve. You aren’t meant to be a secret.”

Joel’s right hand rests on your crossed leg, rubbing your calf to ease you.

“I’ll give you everything you could ever want and more, I swear it. How much time do I have to give it to you, though?”

“I’ve got enough time for you, Miller. Not too long though, I’m not a patient person, ya know.”

The thought of waiting an eternity for Joel Miller didn’t sound so bad, at least not to you.

Every now and then you would get this feeling in your stomach thinking about Joel and how much you really did care for him and love him. It wasn’t a feeling you could quite pinpoint. The depth of sadness would overcome you just at the idea of losing him, knowing one day his footsteps wouldn’t grace this earth anymore. It was always sitting in the back of your mind, poking at you to love whatever time you got with him, because one day there wasn’t going to be this.

“I love you, you know that?” Joel asks and kisses your lips before you can answer.

The kiss quickly turns passionate and he backs up with your lips still glued to his, your body carrying you with every step he takes into the house. Joel leads you to the bedroom and tosses you on the bed lovingly, admiring the way your beautiful eyes glowed in the golden ray of sunlight seeping through the flowy curtains.

“Let’s enjoy our last night here, yeah?”

You grab your camera from the pocket of your sundress and grin at Joel, the gears turning inside his mind as he catches on.

“To our last night.”

Running on a few hours of sleep and the coffee not doing its job in your body, you yawn again as your Uber pulls up to your moms house. This was the part you were dreading the most, seeing your mom torn up that you’re leaving again.

“Cmon, Mom, I gotta get going!” The fake happy tone was so apparent but it was easier to keep her up in good spirits if you pretended to be okay.

Your mom comes around the corner from the kitchen, her hand towel tossed over her shoulder as she always did when she was doing dishes. She wipes her hands dry and hugs you so tight it feels like your eyes are going to pop out.

“I love you so much, mommy. I’ll call you when I get back to Texas and I’m home safe, I swear it.” Fuck, and just like that, the quiver in your voice makes you start to break and before you can collect yourself, tears slipping from your eyes.

“I love you more, my baby. Have a safe flight, okay? Who knows, maybe I’ll come see you for the holidays in a few months.” She laughs to keep herself from crying but it only goes so far before you can feel her body jolt with every sob.

The tight grip of her arms around your neck makes you giggle between your tears and she squeezes you once more before letting you go, standing up straight to get a good look at you before letting you leave her again and go spread your wings back to your home.

“Come on, you’ve got a plane to catch!”

You take her hand in yours and walk to your Uber, Joel getting out immediately to give her a hug goodbye. As you circle around the back of the car to get inside, you can’t help but notice Joel and your mom having some sort of quiet conversation you weren’t privy to. Swallowing dryly and wanting so bad to know what they were talking about, you climbed into the backseat of the car to give them privacy. Though it bothered you enough to dig your fingernail into the side of your thumb, you knew deep down it wasn’t anything bad they were sharing back and forth.

Joel opens the door before finishing his goodbye to your mom.

“Bye, we’ll see you soon!” He grins and gets inside the car, buckling up before waving to her as your driver starts to pull off. There was no shot in hell you could look at her as you drove away, not if you wanted to get to the airport with minimal tears.

Joel intertwined his fingers in yours and kisses the top of your hand to console you, take your mind off the fact you just left your mom again.

It felt different this time, leaving her house. When you first left almost a year ago, you were beside yourself and so confused about what to do with your life, thinking you’d be making the right choice to chase your dad for one last shot at something with him, anything.

But, here you were now, hand in hand with the asshole you didn’t mean to fall for, crying over the two weeks you spent with him and your mom, watching him get to know her and love her the way you do.

“Here, take this.” Joel holds out his wired headphone and you place it in your right ear, waiting to hear the music start.

All of the anxiety, love, fearfulness, joy, everything starts to mix together as the lyrics come over the stringed instrument.

Woah, my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time

And time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Your tears well in your eyes until you can feel them about to fall, causing you to turn your head to look out the window, not wanting Joel to know you were crying.

You had to give it to him though, playing the Righteous Brothers was such a Joel move and yet, you never saw it coming.

Your heartbeat speeds up and it’s like you could feel the blood coursing your veins, the impending doom of not knowing how anything was going to be once you returned to Texas was going to send your body into overdrive.

It was close to seven by the time you and Joel got back home, the streetlights glowing that familiar orange light at the beginning of your block as the sun started to go down behind the trees ahead of you. His hand rests comfortably on your thigh, rubbing slow circles into the fabric of your sweatpants as you two softly sing along to the radio playing a song from Queen, another fitting song for the moment.

Under Pressure.

As Joel’s pulling in front of your houses, the sheer panic of seeing your dads vehicle in Joel’s driveway sends your anxiety through the roof, your legs instantly unfolding from the passenger seat to sit straight up, trying to make it not look like what it was.

“Did you know he was going to be here? What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Uhhh, I don’t know why he’s here, baby. Just stay calm, okay? I got this.” Joel winks at you and turns the truck off, getting out to see what your dad wants. You sit there for a moment and contemplate sitting still until he leaves but who knows how long that would be. Swallowing harshly, you get out and stretch before you make your way to where your dad and Joel were standing at the end of the driveway.

“Hi, sweetheart. Where’ve you been?”

“Michigan, I went to go see mom” you say bluntly as you take your suitcases out of Joel’s truck in a bit of a rush, trying not to let Joel’s bags be seen. Your dad takes a puff of his cigarette and you can hear the snicker from him as a response to your business in Michigan.

“And Joel came to get you? What did you bribe him with?” The dig at the both of you causes your brows to knit together in confusion at what he was trying to get at.

“She didn’t bribe me with anything, asshat. She’s a good girl, she just couldn’t get a reliable friend to come get her, that’s all.”

What your dad couldn’t see was Joel’s fist behind his back, opening and closing slowly to to calm himself down and not stick your dad right in his mouth for speaking about you that way. One day he would make him see you as a person and not some doormat he can walk all over, but it wasn’t going to happen today. Joel was too exhausted and worn out to be arrested.

Your dad’s face changes when Joel sticks up for you and he clears his throat before flicking his cigarette butt into the street and tucking his beefy hands in his front pockets.

“I know, I’m just messin’.”

“Well, um…thanks for coming to get me Joel. I appreciate it.” You hold out your hand for a handshake just to see if he takes the bait. The corner of his mouth turns up just enough for you to notice and falls back into place as he holds out his hand, shaking yours firmly.

He takes one last glance at you before you take your bags and walk to your house, your face warm to the touch with the mixture of embarrassment and the need to walk right back up to him and kiss him the exact way you had been in public for the last two weeks.

But you couldn’t.

He wasn’t yours until he wanted to go public.

Once you get inside and drop the bags off your shoulders to the floor, you tug your phone out of the pocket on your purse.

8:11 PM [you]: I Miss you :( Come over when he’s gone?

8:24 PM [Joel]: I miss you too sweetheart. He just needs some tools, guess he’s setting up for a pool party tomorrow? Leave your bedroom lamp on if you want me to come by when he’s done.

8:30 PM [you]: Oh? Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get an invite from him ;)

8:31 PM [you]: Aye aye, sir.

You set your phone down on the counter before you drag the luggage bags upstairs to the dimly lit bedroom you’ve missed so dearly. The piles of clothes you left on the floor pad your footsteps as you try to find the lightswitch on the wall, lighting up the room to see just how disastrous you left it.

It needed a good clean and it was on your agenda for tomorrow, for now you’re too tired to do anything besides rot on your couch and get caught up on Love Island, seeing how you missed the first couple of episodes while you were away.

Rubbing the back of your neck while you scan the room, the sadness starts to settle in that you miss Joel.

You were independent, sure, but being so close the past two weeks without having to hide with stolen glances and tender brushes of your hands behind the backs of everyone was really starting to get to you.

Why did he have to be your dad’s best friend?

The TV drowned out your thoughts long enough to cause you to fall asleep on the living room sofa, attempting to wait for Joel to return. You reach down and grab your phone off the floor that had fallen a little while ago, opening it up to the text thread between you and Joel.

8:30 PM [you]: Oh? Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get an invite ;)

9:02 PM [you]: Are you almost done? I wanna cuddle.

9:44 PM [you]: You’re missing a really good episode of Love Island. Remind me to get you a pair of overalls.

The last message you sent was a half hour ago and still response. You get up and walk into your kitchen, peeking out the window that faced Joel’s house. The lights downstairs were on, that was the most you could see. No shadows, nothing. Wondering where they were, you put on your shoes and walk out to your car, clutching the throw blanket draped over your shoulders as if it were a cape.

You just came outside to grab something from your car, at least that was the story you were sticking with if you got busted by anyone. Opening the driver's side door and looking around, you see Joel’s garage door open and the two of them sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of the room, a few beer cans at Joel’s feet. So this is where he’s been the last two hours?

You grab a tube of lip balm from the cup holder and close the door firmly, going back inside the house before you were spotted. With your back against the front door, you slide off your shoes and contemplate leaving the door unlocked for him. He didn’t have a key and you wanted him to spend the night, but he’d be more upset if you left it unlocked and fell asleep.

Grabbing the deadbolt latch and locking the door, you sigh and walk back to the living room to pick up the mess you made. You fold the blanket back up and lay it across the back of the couch, grab your phone, and start making your way upstairs again.

Sleep. You wanted to sleep.

The glow from your lamp in the corner by the window illuminated just enough to let you see a clear path to your bed. Stopping to dig out your camera from your bag, you grab it and walk over to your bed. The wind blows in your window and causes the lace curtain to touch your leg, making you turn around to look outside once more before turning off the lamp and crawling into your bed.

You turn on your camera and look through the last two weeks of your life and the creeping melancholia comes over you. Photos of Joel in the ice cream parlor, the two of you playing cards with your mom, little moments you’ll have forever. He hated being in photos when you first met him, now he couldn’t resist smiling as big as he could when your camera was out.

It was a little past ten when you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand behind you. Too tired to answer it or to even move, you settle down into your bed further until you fall asleep.

10:21 PM [Joel]: I’m sorry sweetheart. Didn’t know he’d be over that long. Sweet dreams. Proud you locked the front door. Love you.

The message was the second thing you woke up to this morning. The first thing was Joel on your front porch with a bag from the grocery store with breakfast ingredients inside. He kissed your cheek after making his way to the kitchen. Hours after he made you two breakfast, you got dressed for the day.

“Forgot to tell you, I did get invited to your dads pool party. He said he’d text you about it.”

Joel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you against him gently while you adjust your necklace. His chin rests in the crook of your neck and looks at you through the mirror in front of you.

“He won’t. I could just show up and crash the party though.”

“It would make it so much better, I’ll tell you that right now, baby. We should probably go separately though. Best we lay low for a while.”

Lay low for a while. Right.

Joel turns you around and cups your face. “Don’t give me that look, that’s not fair.”

You stop pouting and groan loudly before putting your forehead on his chest. Joel kisses your head and stands you straight up, kissing your cheeks until you smile. You kiss his lips passionately and stand still as he starts to make his exit.

“No pouting today. It’s a pout free day. Let’s get rollin’ baby. I love you, I’ll see you there okay?”

Joel taps the door frame as you nod and he grins, walking downstairs and you don’t move until you hear the front door close.

The music booms out of the speakers in your dads backyard and it overpowers your car radio as you pull into the driveway, parked right next to Joel’s truck.

You walk in the front door and head to the kitchen where you hear voices echoing off the walls. A few of your dad’s colleagues stand there chatting away with small plates of finger food in their hands, colorful solo cups scattered along the countertop with various types of drinks.

The kitchen looked amazing. You hadn’t seen it completed since Joel finished working on it. He was damn good at his job and you felt so proud of him, even if I was unfortunately at your dads house.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” The hair on your arms raises at the annoying tone of Janet.

“Kitchen looks nice, sure hope you paid him well” you snark back, a little cattier than you anticipated.

She smiles sarcastically and walks towards the room behind you. Joel strolls in with your dad in tow, tugging on Joel’s white t-shirt as they laugh and you can barely make out what they’re talking about.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Joel asks as he leans his hip against the counter and pours a drink for himself.

You try to avoid looking him in the eyes as best as you can but you only last a few seconds. Right on cue Joel has that grin on his face, the one you only see when he’s with you. The one that holds back so many things he wishes to say.

Janet walks back to the side of your dad like the good pet she prides herself to be, Joel standing next to you, not nearly as close as you’d like.

“So, your dad tells me you went to Michigan? How’d you get so much time off already when you just started working?” Janet smirks and hides it with her cup, narrowing her eyes onto you.

You ready up a loaded answer when Joel starts speaking before you.

“I gave her the time off, no questions asked. I knew she missed her mom and felt she’d be more energized at work if she got some time from here. She does good work for me.” Dad and Janet couldn’t register his tone like you could. They were far too out of touch to see he was talking to them as if they were children. A subtle tone change was enough for you to notice his feelings on the question Janet had no business asking.

“I stopped by your office the other day to give you the final check and Tommy said you were out of town?”

Joel doesn’t shift his body once.

“Yeah, went to go get some wood out northeast.” His fake smile was enough to shut her up for now. It’s dancing too close for comfort and only she seems to notice the damning timelines. Your dad wasn’t putting the pieces fast enough like Janet was.

“Can someone show me where the coolers are? I need a drink” you ask awkwardly, trying to remove yourself from this clusterfuck.

Joel steps backwards and motions for you to go ahead in front of him. You set your bag down in the barstool right by the counter and walk outside trying to shake every bit of that conversation off of you.

The lights were getting brighter as the sun continued to set, people mingling with you and Joel, talking about whatever. It was nice to hear other people’s life stories and how shitty their day-to-day life was.

Janet comes out and makes a b-line towards you, your pink camera in her grubby hand.

“You wanna explain this?” She asks in that smartass tone she always uses when she knows something you don’t. As she tosses the device to you, it lands screen faced up and on a photo of you and Joel on the beach your mom took.

So much for laying low.

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nobodyfamousposts · 1 year ago

Text

Coffeenette

For the record, they blame Alya. All of them do. No question. They will never NOT blame Alya for this.

Even Nino, who is her boyfriend and supposed to support her. He’s agreed with her about almost everything. But not about this.

Even Rose, who is the sweetest girl in their class. She’ll apologize and be really nice about it, but she still blames Alya.

Heck, even Chloe did, which was a surprise. She was a bully sure, but as such, anyone would have thought this sort of thing would be beneath her. Though it could simply be that she just liked having any excuse to make fun of someone.

…Or so they thought until they saw Chloe scramble away to hide as soon as she saw it happen.

But none of them blamed Alya more for this situation than Marinette, who could only swear all unholy vengeance and glare daggers at her soon to be ex-best friend as she took her sole reason for living in this cold and terrible world and threw it in the garbage!

“Marinette, come on. It’s not that big of a deal!”

“It was innocent…”

“It was a cup of coffee!”

“The perfect cup of coffee. The coffee to end all coffees. Brewed to perfection and at just the right temperature. I could have died happily with that coffee. No other cup of coffee will ever compare. Ambrosia was in that cup and you threw it away!”

“Are you serious?!”

“Shh. Shh…I must mourn.”

“Get off the floor!”

“Mourn, I say!”

Oh sure, some had shrugged it off at the time. Alya had just rolled her eyes and dragged Marinette to class—coffeeless. Others had simply laughed a little at the dramatic display before moving on.

But those who knew better were panicking.

Some were already looking up therapists. Two were immediately calling their parents to ask about a school transfer. A few had given up on life and were writing up their wills.

It should be made clear: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a kind girl. Sweet. Dedicated. Dependable. If you needed help, she was there. She was the one to look to for a solution to any problem. She was the first to put forth an effort and offer an olive branch, even if you hurt her. And of course the last thing she ever wanted to do was upset anyone. And if she did, she would be the first to apologize and try to make up for it.

…the problem was that this was all when Marinette was in a good space. And while her good days exceeded her bad days, that was not to say that there were not bad days. And when she had her bad days, they were…bad.

The thing that few knew about Marinette Dupain-Cheng was that there were…times, you could say, when she was not her normal friendly self. Times when she was…

…Grumpy.

Kind of mean.

Downright brutal, actually.

It only happened when she was either very angry or very stressed.

Which, unfortunately for everyone, has been increasing quite a bit since Hawk Moth made his grand entrance into the world of supervillainy.

Marinette had been stressed for a while and it showed. She’d been losing sleep. And they could tell she’s been more groggy given how frequently she’s been walking into walls and doors. They had thought this was cute at first. They had even laughed about it.

They hadn’t realized that this was actually only the first stage. Not until she started coming in with coffee—something she hadn’t done in years.

Marinette struggled when she was tired.

Thanks to Hawk Moth, she had lately been very tired.

And with her consistent lack of sleep, coffee had been her best friend. Or at least her best consumable friend. The sort of friend that brought her relief and made living bearable.

…until Alya took it away.

It turned out that Marinette’s parents had become…”concerned” about Marinette’s caffeine intake and had forbidden her from the beverage. Normally, they could only keep it away from her at home by either keeping her from the coffee pot or when necessary, switching to decaf. But Marinette had found ways around that by getting her bitter bitter life-saving paint stripper juice outside, usually on the way to school.

Or at least, she used to. But this was a new year and THIS time, Marinette had a new friend—and a BEST FRIEND at that in the form of Alya Cesaire, whom Tom and Sabine had chosen to enlist in their plot to protect their daughter from things that weren’t good for her.

Like coffee. Her precious life-preserving coffee.

And next to the Ladyblog and her secondary role as Rena Rouge, Alya had never jumped on anything faster.

Marinette’s morning coffee run? Done. A thing of the past as Alya would walk her to school and ensure they made no other stops along the way.

Marinette’s stash of coffee and energy drinks? Ransacked. Alya searched her locker, her desk, her bags. And being Marinette’s best friend, she knew ALL of her potential hiding spots.

Marinette’s emergency chocolate-covered espresso beans? Taken. Alya practically treated it like it was radioactive given the gloves and goggles she wore as she removed them. And in her defense, they very well may have been. Marinette was very tight-lipped over just where she had gotten them. She had tried to hide the fact that they WERE espresso beans, but Alya still wasn’t fooled.

Alya was on the hunt and there was NOTHING that could stop her. For her best friend’s “greater good”.

…as far as Marinette was concerned, the “greater good” could shove it.

She saved Paris on a daily basis! This was the LEAST it could give her in return!

Sadly, it appeared that Alya—and by extension Paris, cared not for Marinette’s sacrifice. Thus she was left to stew in her growing rage…stew like the precious brew she was being deprived of.

Up until that point it was clear that Marinette had been surviving on coffee and sheer spite. And now she only had one of those two things left.

But it would be fine! Really!

…so long as no one earned her ire.

Chloe had been one such unfortunate recipient of that ire some time ago in her younger days. Though Marinette had profusely apologized to her afterwards, Chloe never forgot and has held it against her ever since.

...well, after her several month sabbatical from school, at any rate.

So the fact that Chloe was suddenly trying to convince her father to let her take a vacation in the middle of the school year should have been a major red flag.

…or the way Marinette slammed her bag on her desk to get the class’s attention when they started getting off task and too loud in class.

……or the death glare she gave Kim the instant he tried to poke fun at her state with a literal poke to her cheek to try to wake her…and the injured finger he received for his trouble when she grabbed the offending object and bent it back.

…………or how most of the teachers were conveniently refraining from giving them any homework assignments they knew they should have been getting. Or not acknowledging Marinette’s grumpy behavior and sleeping in class. Or avoiding even looking in Marinette’s general direction.

The point was that it was evident that not all was right in the classroom and especially with their normally kind and happy Everyday Ladybug.

To their credit, the classmates had tried to bring Marinette coffee in order to help restore her to her usual state...or at least avoid her wrath.

But all their attempts were for naught, as Alya herself had become something of a bloodhound for caffeine. And having appointed herself as enforcer of the coffee ban, she would confiscate any form of the substance they tried to bring in and dispose of it in short order—much to the classmates’ horror and Marinette’s growing displeasure.

As far as the class could figure, it seemed that coffee was either simply useful in keeping Marinette awake and aware, or it was a comfort to her when she was feeling stressed.

Probably both.

And Alya, in all her misguided concern for the girl’s health, had taken it upon herself to remove the one thing keeping Marinette stable. Stable and happy and not inclined to traumatize anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way.

So yes, everyone in the class did blame her. They didn’t do anything about that resentment, of course, but they did still blame her.

Not that Alya seemed to care.

“Alya.” Nino knelt—literally knelt before her, his hands clasped as if in prayer. “Please. I’m begging you! Just let the girl have her coffee!”

She only rolled her eyes before throwing away yet another cup Marinette had managed to procure from the teacher’s lounge—somehow completely ignoring the daggers the other girl was glaring at them all with from the window of the classroom.

Alya was unmoved.

And seemingly oblivious to the scratch marks on the window left in the wake of Marinette’s pawing.

“It’s for her own good.” Alya insisted, much to the growing horror and frustration of those around her.

“What about our good?“

“You’ll be fine.“ She said dismissively.

“She made Kim cry!” Nino exclaimed, gripping his hat.

“You’re exaggerating.“

“She brought out the Vial. Do I need to tell you about the Vial?“

“The what now?“

“Marinette has a special Vial she carries during…these times.” Max explained as he helped the despondent Nino to his feet.

Alya blinked.

“Okay?”

“She uses that Vial to collect the tears of anyone who so much as annoys her while she’s in this state!”

“That’s a little weird, but—”

Nino cut her off.

“She uses those tears to flavor her coffee.”

Alya stared.

“What?”

“She flavors her coffee with tears, Alya!” He continued, gripping her shoulders. “Not cream! Not sugar! Not cinnamon or chocolate or pumpkin spice like normal people and Americans! TEARS! OUR TEARS! What does that tell you?!”

“That tells me you’re exaggerating.“ She replied, looking decidedly unimpressed. And thus cruelly ignored his whimpering as she tossed the rest of the coffee into the trash bin.

She shot them a look as she slammed the bin lid closed, as if daring them to challenge her.

Nino looked on the verge of a breakdown.

Max sighed and texted the others.

To everyone else, the slamming of that bin lid was akin to a signal…one that indicated the sealing of their fates.

Some cried. Some prayed.

Most chose to stay out of the way.

…that was likely all they could do.

Other than blame Alya, of course. Which they did.

As Marinette’s antics changed from funny “walking into walls isn’t she cute” to less funny “eviscerate your soul with words”.

As whispers from the rest of the school followed the classmates, offering them sympathy and prayers.

As the very atmosphere changed from a sense of melancholy to ever growing unease and outright paranoia. As if her presence itself brought with it something seemingly eldritch in nature.

And through it all, Alya ignored the warnings and insisted this was for the best.

To be fair, it was perhaps her friendship with Marinette that offered her some protection from the worst of it.

…others were not spared.

Timothy—everyone remember Timothy? Prominent student and good friend to the rest of the class. Top of his class. Fellow swimmer and athlete to Kim and Odine. Was one of the few people Chloe would listen to. Tried to help Nino throw the party during Bubbler and the only one to notice Sabrina hadn’t appeared in a while in Antibug. Remember? That Timothy. Had totally been there all along and was well liked by everyone. Possibly as much as Adrien.

…until he admonished Marinette for bumping into him and not looking where she was going.

And.

Marinette.

Snapped.

It was the moment Marinette finally had enough. Both of the lack of coffee and of holding back her frustration about the situation.

It was also the last time Timothy was seen at school. Or anywhere for that matter. Given how abrupt it was and how people actively avoid mentioning him again, some question if he had ever really existed…

Eh, probably not. It was likely just a rumor.

What wasn’t a rumor was how Chloe (after being denied being allowed to ditch school) presumed that a new year and being Queen Bee meant she was stronger than she had been before and thus strong enough to put the caffeine-deprived version of Marinette in her place. She would prove to Marinette, to herself, and to everyone that SHE was the head bitch in charge.

Marinette was abruptly woken out of a nice daydream that either involved Adrien or coffee or Adrien AND coffee to find herself being yelled at. And find herself face to face with Chloe.

Oh wait, Chloe was the one yelling at her.

She had a hard time making out what Chloe was saying, but the fact remained that it WAS Chloe. Which was never a pleasant place to begin any realization.

It would help if she had coffee.

Was there coffee?

Marinette looked at her depressingly empty hands.

No.

"Well?! Do you hear me?!" Chloe shouted.

Marinette looked up at the blonde and took a slow breath before opening her mouth to speak.

...

…thirty minutes later, Sabrina found Chloe catatonic under her desk and took her home early.

To be fair, she had brought it on herself. After all, she really should have learned her lesson from the last time. But still, it was hard to forget the scene as Sabrina gently guide her out of the building as Chloe mumbled to herself, her face pale, her mascara running, and her eyes wide and haunted.

She was out for the rest of the week.

Bustier was...no help. In her ever rose-tinted fashion, she attempted to speak with Marinette early on what had been a particularly bad morning.

“Marinette, I heard you’ve been having some trouble with your classmates.”

It took a minute for Marinette to realize Bustier was there, much less that she was trying to have a conversation.

“—argument with Chloe the other day. It seems like whatever you had said really hurt Chloe’s feelings.”

Marinette blinked, trying to comprehend what was being said to her.

“—was uncalled for. Chloe didn’t deserve that.”

Bustier. Something about Chloe? She hadn’t seen her in a while. She thought things had been quieter lately…

“—you know how Chloe is and that she needs help. Surely whatever she said couldn’t have been that bad, and—”

These were clearly words, but they weren’t making sense.

“—remember what I said before about the Marinette’s of the world? It’s important to show love to people, even if they aren’t nice. So they can learn from your good example and—”

Marinette.exe needed coffee to continue this conversation.

“I think the two of you can talk this out. You can apologize to Chloe and model the right behaviors.”

Was there coffee to continue?

“—and who knows? Maybe the two of you will even become the best of friends!”

No.

“—what do you think?”

Marinette frowned at Bustier and opened her mouth to speak.

...

...it would be the first and only time Bustier would make such an attempt to speak to coffee-deprived Marinette. Nobody knows exactly what happened, as the students had come in when class started only to find Bustier in the aftermath, sobbing over her desk and completely inconsolable.

No class was had that day.

#ml fic #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #coffeenette #why alya why #alas poor timothy #we...didn't really know you at all actually #but you will be missed #yes I'm actually writing this #pray for me #pray for everyone actually #the poor poor traumatized souls

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

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WIBTA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he likes my body?

TW for ED but please hear me out:

My bf (30m) and I (28f) have been together for a little over 5 years. When we got together I had an extremely stressful and physically demanding job. Shortly after our relationship started I relapsed with an eating disorder that had been a problem since prepubescence; I started restricting heavily at age 11 and had struggled with it on/off since then.

After quitting that terrible job and regaining some agency in my life, I spent a couple of years really focused on recovery. Without giving specific numbers (cause triggering) I'll say that I was extremely underweight to an unhealthy level for at least a year and experienced severe health complications because of it. I nearly died from heart problems and had a big wakeup call that caused me to change my whole life. I've done the work of recovery without medical help (history of omission with doctors) but have had support from my bf, and am currently at the highest weight of my life.

at a recent checkup my Dr talked a lot about "healthy lifestyle" and mentioned my weight gain over the past couple of years. I'm still within the "normal" range for my height and build, but the after visit summary/chart notes denoted risk of becoming overweight. Idk if my Dr would have brought it up if my history of ED was in my chart, (and I did switch primary care practices a few years ago, so they weren't treating me at my thinnest) but it still shook me a bit and I will admit to feeling very triggered.

The job I moved to is quite sedentary compared to the previous terrible one - I wfh, and very rarely have to be on my feet or do strenuous activity. In addition, I have chronic pain issues that make exercise difficult, and so historically have just restricted to maintain/lose weight because it's easier for me physically to just be hungry than to work out. I didn't want to go down that road again though because of how intense and scary it got last time.

My bf is a personal trainer and specializes in working with low ability clients and people recovering from long illness/injury. When I told him that I wanted to start exercising more often and get a good cardio routine going, he was really excited and started immediately putting together an "action plan" (what he calls it w his clients idk) for me. Then he mentioned how I'd need to add on a bunch of meal supplements and snacks to avoid losing weight and I got upset.

We're a plant-based (vegan) household and live with a roommate (bf's friend) so mostly eat/cook communal dinners and have various breakfast & lunch plans on hand, so we already eat pretty healthy and make sure to have a good balance of macro/micro in the meal plan. My intent was to eat the same but increase my activity level to get out of the danger zone without restricting. I don't generally snack and rarely eat dessert, just the 3 squares.

I told my bf that I needed to lose weight and be more active according to my doctor, and that I wasn't comfortable with having protein supplements, smoothies, and snacks in addition to regular meals because that would defeat the purpose. He got really sad and said that he likes the way my body is now, and while he supports being more active, he doesn't want the size of me to change. His exact words at some point were "you look so good now, I love the amount of you that there is and I like the way you jiggle." It kind of made me feel sick and wonder if he has like a secret size fetish or something?

So I've been thinking of breaking things off with him and moving in with a friend or back in with my parents, but idk if this is actually a red flag or just the disorder talking? He did help me a lot with recovery but if he's going to keep me from being healthy or wants me to gain even more weight then maybe it's better to leave - would this be an asshole move? I honestly don't know.

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw

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cozymoko · 2 years ago

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Wait you write for Kamisama kiss??? OMG Tomoe's been my crush for years 😭 omg if it's okay with you then can I have general yandere headcannons about everyone's favourite fox boy?? 🌕 Anon

YANDERE TOMOE HEADCANONS

Note: I also love Tomoe. Btw this might suck because I'm bad at general anything.

Pronouns used: feminine, she/her (for convenience)

WARNING(S): yandere themes, slightly suggestive

YOKAI

Possessive, Manipulative, Violent (to others)

AS A ROUGUE YOKAI, pledging his loyalty to others never truly appealed to him; to a woman nonetheless. Being a formidable demon never called for such requirements.

You were feisty, pointing the round end of your broom in his direction. You knew not of who was there, yokai or human but you feigned confidence. The trembling of your hands gave it away, you were scared as one would be. “Who's there?”

The pale moonlight peeked through the few windows lining the walls, carefully calling attention to your features. You were easy on the eyes and yet so hard to look at. Your eyes were glassy and narrowed into thin slits. Your legs shook violently in anticipation for him to reveal himself as you hugged the broom flush against your chest. Such a look didn't suit you.

Having mercy on you, he decided to cut his fun a little short.

As one does, Tomoe made his way to a brothel which he was fairly acquainted with. All in a pitiful attempt to find solace amongst the predatory gazes of the women occupying it. But alas, he could not. With every look upon their faces twisted into one that mimicked your own. Captivating and seemingly kind, tempting him to reach out and touch it.

Tomoe is no fool. His emotions are evident, terribly so. He longs for a human woman and there's no need to deny it. Your image has been engraved in his memory down to every last detail. Women who were not you could no longer soothe his mind as they appeared lackluster in comparison.

Thus, he sought after you. In the middle of the night, he was whisked away by the chilly wind in search of the woman. Your scent was heavy on his mind, leading him back to the small cabin you resided in. His footsteps were night, almost silent as he entered your home, searching for you.

To his luck, there you were. Rolled up in a cotton futon, lulled by the chirps of noisy crickets. Yes, he's decided; You are his and no one else's. Tomoe isn't one for sharing and he'll make sure you're aware.

Akura-ou was quick to find out about your existence, which was a pain within itself. He would toy with you just to get under Tomoe's skin. It's not every day you get to see your moody "counterpart" fall so hard for someone, let alone a human. Anyhow, those who've tormented you weren't as fortunate as Akura-ou, serving a far more unpleasant demise for their actions.

If not for you, Tomoe wouldn't hesitate to massacre every man who looks your way. Having good-looking women by his side is nothing he isn't used to, yet, you are different. As his woman, he wouldn't want someone to so much as breathe the same air as you. The mere thought renders him ill.

Although, if you ask him not to he'll try his best to listen to your wishes. Keyword: try. He would never want to upset you, oh not at all! However he's only "human", even he has his limits.

No matter how he may terrify you, running is NOT an option. You will never be too far from his grasp. As long as his heart is beating, no one will ever have his heart. The fox demon is a bit too eager to show how he got his reputation in the Yokai world. As his other half, why don't you sit down and watch for a while?

“Foolish girl, when will you finally understand that your efforts are futile? Your cries may pain me but if I must tie you down to keep you. Then I shall.”

FAMILIAR

Loyal, Overprotective, Posessive

BEFORE HE MET YOU HE WAS A YOKAI, drowning in a pit of endless grief. Though not a powerful God, you held enough power to help the lost kitsune. You, determined to save him, kissed him and made Tomoe you familiar. For that, he was forever grateful.

Sure his bloodlust has been soothed over the decades, but it doesn't cease to exist. However, betrayal has never crossed his mind. His loyalty to you runs deeper than the blood that courses through veins. He is bound to you for life and he will serve you until greeted by death's embrace

He still finds you to be a subpar God in nearly every aspect. You were so uncool and lame as you lacked elegance, lazy in comparison to many, and awfully forgetful. But it made you even more charming. Tomoe found himself growing fond of your minor habits, though still trying to push healthier ones upon you, they were sweet, or even cute dare he say.

If you so choose, you can touch his ears. What can I say, the thought has plagued his mind more times than he cares to admit. Intimacy with you is not exactly scarce, you dot on the fox quite a bit, however, he yearns for more of your attention, your time. Being your familiar for some years has honestly built up his confidence. (There was no way in hell he'd ask you that and earlier than now.)

You cannot have another familiar, not a chance. Tomoe will burn them to the ground if they even try to kiss you. If you've had familiars before him, fuck them. They can die for all he cares. All you have to do is ask and he will gladly do the honors. (He knows you won't, unfortunately)

No male familiars are permitted to sleep by your side, except him of course. He must retain his superiority somehow. Allowing them to see you so vulnerable is not an option.

For you, he'd do an ything if it's within his power. As long as it doesn't put you or your reputation in danger that is.

“You reek of that wretched Tengu, must you always converse with such lowlives, mistress? If my company is not to your liking please allow me to fix myself. I am your loyal familiar and you should know I'm also the best.”

#—🍁#x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x y/n #yandere hedacanons #yandere tomoe #yandere tomoe x reader #tomoe x reader #kamisama hajimemashita headcanons #kamisama hajimemashita #kamisama kiss headcanons #kamisama kiss #yancore #yandere male #yanderecore

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treason-and-plot · 2 months ago

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“What?” says Roy. He shakes his head in an effort to wake up his brain, which seems to be suffering from momentary paralysis. He is on the one hand delighted that Michael is in deep shit, but he is also dismayed that Anya is so upset. It hurts his heart to hear her cry. But his dismay is exacerbated by the fact that she had such a strong reaction to the revelation- she’s acting as if her father had been caught having an affair. Which obviously isn’t the case.

“How did your mother find out?” he asks Anya, deciding to reserve sharing any of his personal thoughts about Michael’s indiscretions, at least for the moment. Anya puts the phone down to blow her nose. She takes a few deep breaths. When she speaks again her voice is a little less wobbly.

“The bank rang her about an unusual transaction on their joint credit card and she asked them to email her a statement. Dad looks after all the bills including the payment of their credit card and normally she never gets to see any bills or statements. The unusual transaction just turned out to be my sister borrowing the card to buy §300 worth of Simmora makeup, but Mum went through the rest of the transactions and she noticed that every week there was a charge of §200 billed to a company called-“

“Active Advisory Pty Ltd,” Roy’s brain whispers to itself.

“Active Advisory Pty Ltd,” Anya says. “Which sounds like a financial services company or something, right? Which Mum thought was really bizarre. So she did some investigating and found out it’s actually the company name of the owners of a strip club called The Pink Pony. So Mum confronted Dad about it and he admitted he’s been going there every week for the past year! And spending §200 on private sessions!”

“Well, shit,” says Roy. “That’s…that’s a lot of visits.”

“Mum’s devastated!” says Anya. “I am too! I can’t believe Dad would cheat on Mum like that! It’s just made me question everything I thought was real.”

“Technically, is it really cheating, though?” says Roy.

“How can you say that!” gasps Anya. “Of course it’s cheating!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything,” says Roy quickly. “And hey, what about your sister stealing the card to spend §300 on makeup? That’s terrible!”

“Roy, I don’t think you understand. My parents are probably on the verge of divorce over this! My mother hasn’t stopped crying since my Dad confessed and she’s talking about going to stay with her sister in Barnacle Bay! The last thing they’re concerned about is Eva blowing money on make up!”

“Well, maybe they should be at least a little bit concerned,” says Roy. “Just saying. But, ah, okay, obviously the other stuff is a bit more concerning. Particularly the amount of money he’s been spending-“

“The money isn’t the issue here, Roy!” says Anya. “You just don’t seem to be getting it! My Dad has been visiting prostitutes! Sex workers! I can barely think of a worse betrayal! P….poor Mum….”

She starts sobbing again.

#Roy #Anya #back to Bridgeport #5 years later #sims 3 #sims 3 story

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jjkamochoso · 8 months ago

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In Sickness and Sadism

Not fluff, not angst, but a secret third thing... (it's Feitan from HxH, what can I say)

Feitan Portor x gn!reader with chronic illness

You can't afford your medicine. Feitan won't accept that!

Warnings: cussing, breaking of human bones, mentions of other violence (not toward reader)

"What do you mean the price went up that much?"

You were incredulous. You had been frequenting the same pharmacy in your home town since you could remember and the price for medicine had always been consistent. That's what you liked about shopping there--the owner didn't price gouge like they did in every other store. Now, you didn't know what to do. You needed to buy the damn medicine or else you would be miserable, or probably even dead. It already wasn't easy having to deal with a chronic illness and now you had to face the fact that you definitely didn't have enough money to buy something you needed to live.

"That's just how much it is now, don't cry to me about it," sneered the cashier and you felt your anger bubble up at his lack of empathy. Your life was terribly unfair and you wanted to scream, cry, and punch the smirk off the cashier in that order.

"Please, can I talk to Mr. Greck, the owner, about this? I've been coming here for years, maybe he can get me a discount," you pleaded, but the cashier just laughed at you.

"The owner has a job from which he needs to make money. Not that you would know what it's like to have money in the first place. So no, you can't waste his time begging like the poor person you are. Now get out or I'll throw you out."

You glared at him, hoping he was bluffing, but he seemed the type to follow through with hurting someone like you and you knew your body couldn't take the exhaustion, especially if you were going to be off your medicine for a while. You needed to make sure you were in good condition to work every day of the week, plus overtime, to make enough to buy your month's supply. Feeling defeated and upset, you left the building, tears falling freely.

Feitan prided himself on his distinct lack of empathy. He relished in the fact that the pain of others makes him feel warm inside. There was no better symphony of sounds than people crying and screaming for their pain to stop.

So why the fuck was he finding himself so outraged at some random person's medical predicament?

The raven haired man had stopped in to a local pharmacy to pick up (ahem... steal) some supplies for the Troupe in case anyone managed to get hurt on the latest mission. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings for the first few minutes of his shopping spree, completely uncaring to someone else's woes of the fragility of the human body. All of a sudden, after stuffing the last roll of gauze in his sleeve, his ears perked up to listen in to the conversation happening at the front register.

"What do you mean the price went up that much?"

His eyebrows furrowed. Not that he cared, because he wasn't paying for any of his things anyway, but he did notice that the price tags here for items displayed significantly lower numbers than previous pharmacies he had visited in other areas around. You had affirmed his findings in your conversation with the cashier and Feitan felt his blood boiling at the brash rudeness coming from the cashier's mouth. Who did that scum think he was, speaking like that to someone for no reason? Feitan certainly wasn't the nicest guy around but even he had the decency to not be a total jerk to random strangers, let alone people in distress about their medical and financial woes. He didn't know why he was giving this ordeal the time of day. Maybe it was because of his upbringing? He saw this type of thing daily in Meteor City. Hell, he lived it himself. There was nothing scarier than seeing a totally healthy person decay rapidly and shrivel into nothingness, all because they were born in unfortunate circumstances. He scoffed when he saw you leaving in tears. Why didn't you just use your brain and brawn and steal it? Were you too weak? He saw your fists clenching earlier and figured you were strong enough to take down that slime ball. If you did end up getting your ass kicked, at least you didn't lie down like a dog and take it, like you were doing now. His eyes followed your frame until you left the building and he watched until your silhouette was no longer visible outside. He didn't know why he was doing this. He wasn't supposed to make a big scene whenever he was out and about, but the events were already set into motion before he could stop himself.

"5 month supply of whatever that person needed." Feitan ordered, pointing to the boxes behind the cashier's head.

The cashier just laughed at him. "You too, huh? What are you, their boyfriend or somethin'? Maybe their kid? Scrawny little thing."

Oh, he'll wish he never had a tongue to speak those words.

Feitan kept his cool, procuring a velvet bag from his person and set it on the counter with a clank emitting from the contents of inside. "I have money."

The cashier's mouth opened in a greedy smile. He quickly retrieved the 5 month supply Feitan requested and put it in a bag.

"That'll be 100,000 Jenny."

Feitan smirked under his cowl. He reached into the bag, seemingly to pull out money, but instead of coins, the cashier's outstretched hand was met with a mini hammer. The sickening crunch of bones could be heard as the man howled in pain.

"Oh? Big man can't handle small hammer?" Feitan taunted, his eyes crinkled in delight at the man's suffering. The cashier tried to reach for a gun he had stashed behind the counter but Feitan was much too fast, grabbing his wrist and turning his arm the wrong way so that, too, was broken. The cashier couldn't get a word out, instead crying out with tears running down his face.

"Don't cry to me about it." Feitan mocked the worker by using his own words against him. The shorter man hummed a bit, thinking of what to do next. He needed to finish up quickly or else he'd lose track of you and end up having done this all for nothing.

Well, this wasn't all for nothing either way. He needs to make sure he practices his methods often so he doesn't lose his edge.

Feitan grabbed the bag containing the medicine and cleaned up his own bag of tools while the cashier was lying on the floor, writhing in pain and ready to pass out. He gave him a strong kick before turning toward the door.

"Good luck getting all that fixed at hospital. If you can afford it."

You were walking down the street, dejected and unsure of what to do when you felt a nauseating presence appear behind you. You turned around to face a short man with a skull face covering offering you a bag. Naturally, you were hesitant to take it, but he nudged it to you again.

"Medicine. For you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. Did you hear the soft spoken man correctly? You tore open the bag and saw multitudes of your medicine within.

"5 months. Go get better job or learn to steal."

You went to thank him but he was already gone, disappearing like a ghost. You were thoroughly confused but at the same time, extremely grateful. You stood on the street corner in a daze until the sound of screaming could be heard somewhere close to you.

"Someone please help! This cashier's been seriously injured!"

You whipped around to see a woman running out from... the pharmacy? What exactly had that man done to get you what you needed? You were ready to run away from the scene so you weren't questioned as a suspect when you caught a glimpse of your savior once more, watching you like a hawk from the rooftop of the building next to you. He put his finger to where his lips resided under his mask, a signal to stay quiet about what happened, as he let out a short maniacal laugh and disappeared from your sight.

Feitan finally realized why he decided to help you that one day. There were many people in this world he'd gladly see rot to death and then rot even further after that.

But not you.

No, you were much too attractive to be a corpse so soon.

#feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #hxh x reader #phantom troupe #phantom troupe x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh x y/n #hxh x you

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

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Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter Eight

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.8K words

Series Masterlist

It was the final race before summer break, Spa. It had been a full two months since she'd last spoken to Max. A few days before she'd attempted to text him, but to no avail. Left on read every time.

Y/N couldn't begin to describe how much it hurt. Worst of all, she couldn't tell anybody about it. She couldn't tell Lando, not since he'd disappeared out of her hotel room at Silverstone.

Ever since her Formula One youtube career had begun, Y/N hadn't felt alone. Not until now. She'd never felt this alone in her life. This was the first time in over ten years, that Lando hadn't been there by her side.

This was maybe the first time she didn't have several videos planned for the race weekend. Well, she did, but those videos involved Lando, and they weren't exactly the best of friends at the minute.

Y/N didn't know if she could walk around the paddock without Lando backing her every step of the way. Sure she was friends with all of the drivers. But Lando was her best friend; Y/N didn't know who he was without him.

There was only one thing Y/N felt like she could do without Lando there. She called up Charles.

It had become somewhat tradition for Y/N and Charles to go to a café every time they did something just the two of them. Charles met her down in the lobby of her hotel. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she approached and they left the hotel together.

"What's up today?" Asked the Monegasque.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath as they walked through the streets of Belgium, searching for a café. "Everything," she answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Not with Charles. Not when he was so close to one of the causes of her problems. But she no longer had Lando to talk to, so she turned to Charles.

When they found a café, they took a seat in a cushioned booth in the darkest corner of the building. A waitress came over and took their orders. As soon as the waitress was gone, Charles turned to Y/N. "That's it, talk."

So, Y/N talked. She told Charles everything. About her feelings for Max, about how he suddenly disappeared. She told him about her sort-of fight with Lando and how things were weird between them. She told him how lonely she felt without him.

That was the thing. As much as Max was affecting Y/N, Lando was the biggest thing upsetting Y/N. She missed him so, so much. She hadn't gone a day without talking to him since she was eleven years old.

"Wow," Charles said as soon as Y/N was done speaking. "That was..."

A lot, Y/N knew. She looked up at him, waiting, hoping, praying he'd continue talking. And Charles did. "Well, I don't know what is happening with Max, but you need to just talk to Lando. He won't be able to stop himself from telling you eventually."

It was true, Lando was terrible at keeping secrets. It wasn't on purpose; he didn't do it with malicious intent. Lando was never one of those people that would be red faced, fists clenched not to spill the beans. No, Lando was one of those people who would accidentally let things slip and feel bad about it later.

Like on Y/N's thirteenth birthday. Her parents had planned out a surprise party for her and had invited all of her friends, Lando included. But Lando couldn't make it, not with karting. As he and Y/N walked home from school, he began apologising for not being able to attend a party Y/N didn't know about.

Surprise ruined.

Charles cleared his throat. "You haven't uploaded a new video in forever," he said, stirring a cube of sugar into his coffee.

"I know," Y/N said through a sigh. "I'm taking my summer break early."

Every summer break Y/N toured around with the drivers she was closest with, vlogging their adventures. This year, Daniel had invited her to Texas, and then she and Lando were off to a villa in Temerife with Carlos and his girlfriend. To finish the summer break up Y/N was joining Charles on his yacht.

"You need to sort things out with Lando before your holiday, you know?"

"Yes, Charles, I know," muttered Y/N as she sipped her coffee. "What do I do about Max?"

Charles really didn't know. He knew Max, they'd grown up together. Max's relationships were always a topic they didn't breech. He knew how Y/N felt about Max, the slight crush she admitted to having months ago.

"All you can do is wait," Charles answered somewhat solemnly.

Y/N let out a huff through her nose. She hadn't really touched the Internet since Lando had stormed off, choosing instead to stay away. She didn't know that twitter was going crazy with her lack of videos.

But it wasn't just a lack of videos. It was a lack of any kind of content. Videos, tweets, Instagram posts. You name it and Y/N wasn't doing it. "Better let the masses know I'm alive," she mumbled and snapped a picture of their coffees.

formulay/n

Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 55,683 others

formulay/n: therapy sesh ☕️☕️

Going to the cafe this time didn't have such dire consequences. There were a few comments about her and Charles being a thing, but not enough that Y/N had to acknowledge them. Most of the comments just so happened to be about her uploads, or lack there of.

Y/N and Charles stayed in the cafe only a little while longer, just chatting. If she and Lando couldn't make up, he'd invited her to Monaco or wherever he ended up over summer break.

Quadrant wasn't something Y/N had ever really been involved in. Sure, she'd been in a few videos here and there as Landos special guest, and she'd consider Max a great friend, but Quadrant was a different.

She didn't game, didn't kart, and was too busy with her own content. The last video she'd been in was when she and all the other YouTubers had done Mario Kart in real life (she was team Luigi).

The extent of hers and Max's (Fewtrell's) conversations were sending each other memes via Instagram. They really actually texted each other, let alone talk.

So, when Max (Fewtrell's) face appeared on her screen as she walked back to the hotel, Y/N was shocked, to say the least. She slid her finger across the bottom of her screen and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Ew, what do you want?" She said into the phone. Because, for some reason, this was the kind of relationship they had and it was how British people answered the phone.

"Ew, I want to invite you along for the next Quadrant video."

"Ew, what are you doing in the video?"

"That's for us to know," Max answered, finally dropping the 'ew's. "But, you haven't been in a Quadrant video in fucking ages and people love you."

Y/N thought about it. She loved being in Quadrant videos, loved the fun atmosphere they created. She loved the fun things they did together for their videos. Through Quadrant, Y/N had met some of the youtubers she'd idolised as she grew up. Her favourite Quadrant moment was when she'd met the Side Men. That really was a special day.

"I'll talk to Lando and then I'll get back to you," she answered him finally. They said their goodbyes and hung up and Y/N stepped into her hotel.

There, in the lobby, was the man she wanted. The man who was ignoring her. Max (Verstappen) waited by the elevators. Y/N wasn't quite sure what to do. She hung back until the elevator doors opened and Max walked in.

He turned around then, and saw Y/N walk towards him. His expression was blank as she walked into the elevator. After months, this was going to be her best chance to speak to him.

But Max wasn't ready to speak to her.

Just before the elevator doors slid shut, he strode out, instead taking the stairs.

"Max, wait!" Called Y/N as she went to chase after him. But the elevator doors had already closed and she was moving, the elevator taking her up to the fifth floor.

Y/N's fist slammed into the mirror. "Fuck!" She shouted in the still silence of the elevator.

The doors opened and Y/N stepped out. She couldn't think about Max right now, not when she had Lando to worry about. Grabbing her phone, she dialled his number and pressed it to her ear.

"Are you still mad at me?" Lando asked in way of hello.

"Which room are you in?"

Lando gave her the room number and Y/N hung up. She didn't bother to get back into the elevator and took the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. Lando's hotel room was a whole floor above her own. She marched down the corridor, arms swinging, her stride full of purpose.

When she was at his door, Y/N knocked, loud and fast. Lando pulled open in door in a matter of seconds, letting her in.

Y/N sat on his bed. "We need to talk," she said, dropping her cold exterior. "For the last few month I've been keeping something from you," she confessed.

Sitting on the bed beside her, Lando stared, waiting for her to continue.

"We've been best friends since your karting days. Because of that I've made other friends, too. Like Carlos and Danny and Charles. And... Max. This year, I've gotten really close to Max in particular. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I've got a little bit of a crush on Max Verstappen. Which now feels like shit because Max has been icing me out for the few months"

"Oh."

Yes, that was all Lando said. Yes, it pissed Y/N off. "Oh, come on Lan. That's all you have to say?"

But Lando, a man who is usually rather tan, had gone pale. His best friend had a crush and he'd told that crush to leave her alone.

"What do we do about it?" Asked Lando.

"First, you tell me why you were acting so weird in Silverstone. And then you tell me what the next Quadrant video is going to be. And then we do something about it."

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum @savagecelery @laneyspaulding19 @formulas-bitch @teenwolf01 @gayfrog29 @fictionalcomforts @avg-golden-retriever @pxppeypianotme @ruleroftheuniverse @ferrarisbitch @ashy-kit @dark-night-sky-99 @sadg3

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turcott3 · 8 months ago

Text

unwritten

ethan edwards x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, fluff, kisses

masterlist

you hopped off your bed to the light taps on your door. you opened the door expecting to see your mom but instead are met with the presence of your long time close friend.

“ethan?” you question, scanning the look on his face. to you, he was never hard to read and you could tell something was wrong.

“can i come in?” he asks.

“yeah yeah of course.” you say back up and letting the boy into your room. you sit back in your spot on the bed as he stands in silence after putting his bag down, typing something on his phone.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, noting his unbreakable frown.

“huh?”

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” you ask.

“yeah i just-“ he starts and pauses, trying to think of what to say. you could tell he was holding back.

“just spill, you know i wouldn’t judge you.” you say, hoping to soothe the boy, something you’d figured out years ago.

“well, you know it was my last day of classes and i’d been talking to one of my classmates, in class of course, and we were kinda like getting close and flirting whatever. like an in class crush type of deal and i was gonna ask for her number today but then. fuck.” he pauses, pressing his lips to a thin line.

“and then?” you urge him to continue.

“she fucking asked me if luca was single.” he sighs out.

“well that’s just rude of her.” you say, seeing how he would react.

“i gave her his snap and stuff but like, i don’t know. it made me feel really terrible.”

“i mean that’s fair, but why?”

“because y/n. this shit always happens to me. every single time i think i have a shot at a girl, she wants one of my friends. like am i not good enough? not attractive? like what’s so wrong with me that i can’t be wanted.” he breathes out.

“oh eddy.” you frown, beckoning him to sit on your bed.

“i’m sorry, that was a lot you probably didn’t wanna hear.”

“no no, keep talking, i know there’s more. it’ll make you feel better.” you say placing a sympathetic hand on his arm.

“i just want someone to love me and to want me. i’m 21 for christs sake. all of my teammates and my friends have girlfriends. i just feel left out and it sucks. i’m happy for them of course but i just want someone for me to love and they love me back. i really don’t feel like im asking that much.” he says, trying to hide the tears that fell as he spoke from his heart.

“no one will sit and listen to how i feel, ever. the feeling of being unwanted is like this endless fucking void that can’t just be filled by hookups, i just feel myself slipping deeper everyday.” he continues, less shy about his tears now. you lean up and wrap your arms around him in his fragile state, causing him to release the damn that threatened to break. you lean back, holding the brunette to your chest. the two of you were never very physical but at this moment it was the only thing you could think of to help him.

“i’ll listen ethan, i’ll always listen to you. i’ll always be here for you. it’s gonna be okay.” you say, hugging onto him tighter. you hated seeing him this upset, you’d never seen him like this before and it broke your heart. you found yourself shedding a few tears yourself. he sits up from your grip and observes your state, tears dampening your cheeks.

“why are you crying y/n?” he perks up, wiping the tears that fell.

“because ed, i can’t stand hearing you say this. i can’t believe YOU feel unwanted and unloved. people are stupid to not see who you are. ethan, you’re so lovable and everyone is a fucking dumbass for not wanting you. you’re the sweetest guy i’ve ever met, and i know we’ve been friends since forever ago but i feel awful. i feel like i could do more to make you feel better.” you say remaining strong on your statement, the urge to cry fading away.

“how about this, you stay the night with me. we have a movie night and stay up and talk and then tomorrow we have a lake day. just me and you.” you offer as he nuzzles back to your chest. an unfamiliar feeling.

“your dad will let us take the boat?” he asks.

“i mean he won’t let anyone else drive it except you so.” you giggle.

“for real?” he says sitting up.

“yes.”

“sick.” he replies, getting comfortable on his side of the bed for the night. the two of you sat in a soothing silence as a movie played on your tv. as the a/c kicked in you grew cold, goosebumps littering your skin. you buried yourself under your comforter, trying to avoid making your discomfort being obvious.

“you good?” he asks.

“yeah, just really fucking freezing.”

“come here.” he says pulling the covers over him, pulling you to his side. you drape your arm over his toned and shirtless abdomen, you heart rate spiking at the contact. you didn’t know why you felt so nervous. well you did, but you weren’t going to admit it.

“thank you eddy.”

“of course y/n/n.” he smiles, placing his chin on top of your head. you could get used to the feeling of being in his warm embrace. as the night continued, you hardly lost contact with each other. talking and laughing in the comfort of his arms.

“you think we should go to sleep?” you sit up checking the time on your phone.

“probably, we got a busy day tomorrow.” he giggles, shutting your tv off and laying down getting comfortable.

“g’night ethan.”

“night y/n, sleep good.” he says quietly as the two of you drifted off to sleep with the thought of each other on your minds.

“you ready?” you ask standing on your back deck.

“as i’ll ever be.” he smiles, taking the bag from you and walking down the deck. he steps onto the bought tossing the back to the ground before reaching out a hand to help you onto the boat.

“thank you kind sir.”

“of course madam.” he replies and a smile spreads widely across your cheeks.

“alright let’s get this shit show on the road.” he says turning the key, the engine kicking on.

“please don’t get me beat up this time.” you say grabbing onto his shoulders.

“i’ll try.” he smiles as you sit in the co pilot seat.

“good.” you reply, relaxing as he cruised off smoothly. you loved watching him drive as he smiled, bringing the two of you to corners of the lake you hadn’t seen before, your heart fluttering as he talked about all the good memories he had with his buddies there, but the feeling of sadness oozing its way in. he hasn’t been with them much outside of hockey in months, let alone here on the lake.

he slowed the boat to a stop, shutting off the engine and tossing the anchor off the edge. you were in a quiet area, no other boats anywhere to be found. he sat back in his seat without a word. you stretched your arms out as you got comfortable in your seat, ethan taking your hand in his from across the walkway. your face slowly turning pink as he adjusted his grip on your hand as he sat on his phone. his thumb brushing back and forth on your knuckles gently.

“hey eddy.” you say and he looks up not letting go.

“i’m glad you’re here with me.” you smile, squeezing his hand.

“me too.”

“i’ve never seen these parts of the lake before, they’re gorgeous.” you say, taking in the territory around you.

“i was hoping i could make some new memories here.” he smiles turning his head to look at you.

“well i hope im doing an okay job.”

“you’re doing more than okay y/n.” he giggles, a blush spreading across his face. you stand up out of your chair, sadly letting go of his hand.

“shall we?” you ask, holding up your life jackets.

“we shall.” he smiles. moments later, the two of you jumping into the water.

“jesus it’s cold.” you say re-emerging from the water.

“a little yeah.” ethan giggles, shaking the water out of his hair. you swim over to him, wrapping your arms gently around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder from behind.

“i think that’s a little better.” he says quietly.

“yeah.” you sigh. the two of you remained in the water for a while longer swimming and talking, laughing. it felt nice to be out on the lake alone with your best friend, who you soon hoped would be more than that.

“should we go find a new spot?” ethan asks, helping you back onto the boat.

“yeah we should.” you reply, wrapping yourself in a towel and sitting on the bench seat, ethan plopping down right next to you.

“today has been really fun y/n.” he smiles at you.

“yeah it has.” you reply.

“for the first time in a while i’m not worried about anything else. i haven’t felt this content in so long.”

“me either ed. i’m so happy to be here with you right now.” you smile, taking his hand back into yours. you say in a comfortable silence for a brief moment before he takes your cheeks into his hands, bringing your lips to his for a moment. he pulls away as your face burns red. you were scared he would regret it.

“i’m sorry that was-“ he starts and you interrupt him by pulling him back to your lips, melting into the kiss instantly, his hands placed delicately on your waist as your hands rest comfortably on his cheeks. you pull away giggling as he’s forehead lands on your collar bone. you kiss him on the temple as he sits up.

“let’s go to a new spot yeah?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his face.

“okay.” he smiles softly, the two of you taking your place back in your seats.

you say freshly showered on your bed as ethan returns, brushing his hair dry with his towel. he tosses the towel in your hamper and hops back onto your bed, finding his way cuddled to your side.

“hey ethan.” you say, twisting his damp locks between your fingers.

“yeah?” he asks leaning up a bit.

“seeing you so fragile yesterday was honestly really hard for me, i wasn’t really sure why but, i know now.”

“what was it?”

“because all this time i wanted you.”

“what do you mean?”

“i want you ed. i want to hold you, kiss you, love you. it broke my heart hearing how unwanted you felt. but it hurt me because i had gone so long feeling this way and ignored my feelings.“ you admit and he smiles.

“i’ve liked you for years, i was just scared you’d never feel the same way. i just wanted female attention to replace how i felt about you. i didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.”

“i love you ethan. so much. please let me love you, the way you deserve it.” you say as he pulls you into his chest.

“thank you y/n. god, i love you so fucking much.” he replies lifting your chin with two fingers and bringing your lips back to his, the two of you now more inseparable than before.

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards fluff #ethan edwards x reader #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich boys #turcs’ talk

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cjlouwho · 9 days ago

Text

Twelve Christmases

Chapter tags: drunk parent, abusive behavior, physical abuse (slap across the face)

Read below or on ao3

Day 2: 1993

“Before you go today, I have a bit of homework for you all.”

Mrs. Davidson was met with a classroom of groans.

“I know, I know,” she said, “but this is a fun one, I promise. Over Christmas break, I want you guys to write about your dream Christmas when you grow up. If you could choose anyway to celebrate, what would you do? Who would you be with? How many presents would you want under the tree? What foods would you cook? You can write it as a list, or a story, or an essay. However you want. Just make sure you write something.”

She looked at the time on her watch. “Alright, the bell is about to ring, so you can start gathering up your things. I hope you all have a very merry Christmas, and I will see you all in 1994!”

*****

Tommy slammed his door shut, locking it quickly before his dad could reach for the knob.

It had been a terrible day. The worst Christmas of Tommy's life, he was sure.

Michael spent every Christmas out at the bar, drinking the day away. He'd come home at night, usually, and spew out a few angry words before passing out on the couch.

But the bar he always went to decided to close this year for Christmas.

A part of Tommy had been excited. His dad would get to watch him open his presents for the first time!

It didn't quite work out that way though.

Instead, Michael had gone to the store on Christmas Eve and bought two cases of beer. He'd started drinking that night. Turns out, before he got to the point of passing out, he was loud. So damn loud.

Tommy spent half the night waking up up to bottles clanging, or his dad yelling at the TV.

By the time the sun started coming up, things had quieted down. Tommy crept down the hall to see his dad sprawled out on the couch. One arm flopped down the side of the couch, the other halfway down his pants.

He looked over at the tree where, at some point during the night, nearly half their ornaments had fallen off of it. Michael was known to dance with inanimate objects when he got drunk, so that's what Tommy figured had happened.

“Tommy,” his mom whispered from behind him. He turned to see his mom peeking out of the bedroom. She looked as tired as Tommy felt. She had dark circles under her eyes and had lost so much weight that she nearly swam in her size small nightgown. Her smile didn't reach her eyes anymore.

Still, she beckoned Tommy to her. “I kept your presents in here, Baby,” she said as he came into the room. “Didn't want to put them under the tree last night with your dad.”

She shut the door behind Tommy and locked it. “You sit on the bed,” she instructed, going into the closet.

He did as he was told, still feeling just as excited to have his presents in the bedroom instead of in the living room next to the tree.

She came out of the closet with three gifts in her hands, smiling as she handed them to him. “I couldn't get everything you asked for,” she said, kneeling down on the floor to watch him open, “but I think you'll like it.”

He smiled back at her, taking a deep breath. He always needed a moment before he opened his gifts. He'd get so happy it sometimes felt hard to breathe.

The first gift was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas. Tommy had seen them at the mall one day and begged for them, but Vicky had told him no. He'd been so upset, having no idea she already had them stored away for Christmas.

The next gift was a remote controlled monster truck. His eyes had gone super wide with that one! He hadn't expected it at all. He couldn't wait to get outside and play.

The third present was an art set. Tommy had gotten into drawing dinosaurs and zombies lately, and Vicky wanted to make sure he kept drawing.

As soon as he was done opening his presents, he wrapped his mom in a big hug, thanked her, then asked if he could go outside and play.

“Just make sure you're quite when you're in the living room, okay? Shut the door gently.”

With a promise, and one more hug, Tommy had been on his way.

Everything was fine until Tommy got back home. He was smiling up until he reached the top step and heard his parents arguing through the door. He wanted to turn around. Leave for a few more hours and come back.

It was too late though. His dad saw him through the window and came straight to the door, tossing it open and all but yelling for him to come inside.

“I was here for you, Tommy!” he exclaimed, his words slurred as usual. “Here ta watch you and you didn't even let me!”

“Michael, he has no idea what you're talking about,” Vicky replied. Her voice stayed calm, measured... tired.

“Well 'e should! I stay home to watch my boy open 'is gifts an I don't even getta see it!”

“I thought you stayed home because the bar was closed today?” Tommy questioned. He knew right away that was the wrong thing to say.

His dad came over and jerked the remote controlled car from his hands.

Vicky sighed. “Don't break it,” she said, already walking over to get it from him.

He pointed down at Tommy once Vicky had taken the car. “You'll get it back once you apologize,” he said, teeth nearly gritting together.

His day was already ruined, and it was all his dad's fault.

Tommy was angry.

“Apologize for what?” he asked, matching his dad's glare.

“For being dis- dis- disrespectful!” Michael exclaimed.

“I wasn't being disrespectful!” Tommy fought back.

“Tommy,” Vicky warned.

“Hey! I loved you 'nough to stay home and see my boy op'n gifts!”

“You don't love me!”

The back of Michael's hand met his face so hard, and so fast, that Tommy stumbled backward before falling flat on his butt.

His dad had never hit him before.

He'd gotten angry. That happened a lot.

But he'd never hit him.

“Tommy!” Vicky exclaimed, hurrying over to him. Before she could even reach out and check on him, he was flying to his feet and running down the hall to his room.

He heard footsteps behind him. Knew it was his dad. But he slammed the door and locked it.

Michael banged on the door a few times. Begging for Tommy to open it, let him talk to him. The slap seemed to sober him up pretty quickly.

Tommy ignored him. Brought a hand to his face, touching it gently. His cheek felt like it was on fire. He moved his jaw around, trying to loosen it up a bit.

Once Michael gave up at his door, Tommy walked over to his desk and sat down. His eyes stung as he grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and started on his homework.

One day I will have my own house. I will have a family. We will celabrate Christmas. We will be happy. Maybe mom can come be at my house with me. We will have lots of food on a big table. We will laugh and play games. My dad will not be there or he will be there but be diferent. Christmas will be like it is in the movies with people smiling and there will be lots of snow. I just want a grate day where mom doesn't feel sad. I will get my kids whatever they want and tell them it was Santa. I wish I still beleived in Santa. I will also have big monster trucks in my front yard and a big pile of dirt to play in. That is a prefect Christmas.

He stayed in his room the rest of the day, using his new art set to draw a make believe land where the monster didn't win.

*****

On his first day back at school, Tommy overheard a few kids in his class talking about what they wrote for their assignment.

“I said that one day I'd live in a big, huge mansion with like fifty cars and I'd get even more cars for Christmas, and I'd drive them wherever I wanted to go,” one boy said.

“Well, I wrote that when I'm older I will make Christmas a whole month and people will have to give me presents every single day.”

“I wrote about the food my mom and dad cook and how when I'm older they can't tell me not to get more dessert. I can just eat, eat, eat whatever I want! It'll be great.”

One of the kids turned back and looked at Tommy. “What'd you say?” they asked.

“Oh, um, I- I forgot to do it,” he replied. Before class began he reached into his backpack and took out his paper, crumbling it up into a ball and tossing it in the trash.

He didn't care if he got an F. Christmas was stupid anyway.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #911 abc #911 #12 days of tommy #day 2 #you'll have to give me a bit for day 3

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frannyzooey · 1 year ago

Text

Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off.

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately.

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is.

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you.

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away.

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot.

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip.

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning.

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death.

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands.

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge.

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old.

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared.

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse.

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales.

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending.

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs.

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below.

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything.

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim.

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him.

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth.

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction.

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was.

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing.

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks.

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter.

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information.

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes.

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly.

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight.

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet.

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms.

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge.

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too.

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being.

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving.

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch.

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together.

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay.

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up.

He doesn’t know anything about this.

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold.

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood.

Your face, twisted in pain.

Your face, crying.

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you.

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears.

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside.

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you.

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away.

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you.

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it.

In and out. In and out.

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin.

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach.

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room.

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again.

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it.

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root.

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep.

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away.

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close.

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep.

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