#office conversion to residential | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

souliebird · 3 months ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 27]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

Police Arrest Three After Mass Protests in LA County

By C. Grant

Three people were arrested in Pasadena, California yesterday after a crowd gathered to protest the death of Sheila Pom. Police say the three individuals, whose names have not yet been released, appeared to be Enhanceds attempting to agitate the crowd. Witnesses claim one of the individuals was creating sparks with their fingers and threatening to start a fire, while the two others encouraged the behavior. Police have made no comment about these arrests and all questions about the incident have been redirected to a now defunct phone number.

Sheila Pom was killed in an officer-related shooting two weeks ago after neighbors reported her as a Dangerous Individual under the new Sokovia Accords Act. Pom, 23, worked at her uncle’s auto body shop as a mechanic while also attending online classes to get a degree in Engineering. She was also a telekinetic - someone who can move objects with their mind.

Pom was known to not be shy about her gifts. Pom was seen frequently lifting cars and trucks within garages without the help of equipment and is rumored to have once righted a tipped over semi-truck. Neighbors became concerned when Pom began using her gifts at home.

“We’d come home, and things would be floating up and down the street,” one neighbor said.

Another claimed Pom was unstable, and when she would become upset, things around her would begin to shake.

“I thought it was an earthquake until my TV hit the ceiling,” a source who lived in the same building Pom told GKTV, “I learned the next day her boyfriend broke up with her.”

Officers were called when Pom refused to return a motorcycle to the ground while working on it in a residential neighborhood. After a brief standoff, officers fired two shots, striking Pom in the head, and killing her.

Pom’s family claims she was unaware of the officer’s presence, as wireless earbuds were found near her body after. Pom was known to listen to music to block the noise of machines.

Protests began after the officers involved in the incident were cleared of any wrongdoing.

----

A full-page ad takes over your screen, and instead of continuing to read the depressing article, you close the tab.

There has been a palpable unrest in the news cycle the past week that is starting to leave you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You’ve noticed a shift in the general narrative tone and terminology used when discussing people who have superpowers.

Before Sokovia, before Lagos, before Connecticut, the morning shows would bring on people with amazing gifts and gently joke about them joining the Avengers as they made water fly around the set, but now those same hosts debate if they should be allowed to have the right to privacy. ‘Enhanced Peoples’ has been shortened to just Enhanceds and is now spit out like it is something dirty.

You don’t know when the conversation stopped centering around heroes and vigilantes and started being about everyday people, but it scares you that the change happened. There seems to be no official power scale about what is deemed ‘dangerous’ and your mind keeps zipping all over the place trying to justify different lines of thinking.

Does Matt fall under the category of Dangerous?

He is a vigilante, so by default the Accords are directed at him, but is it doubly so? If he was forced to reveal himself to the government, would they require him to wear a tracking device? Or would they try to lock him up?

Could he fight it in court, or would they whisk him away in the middle of the night and you’d never know what happened?

If Matt is deemed Dangerous because of his senses, and not just because he is a vigilante, would Minnie be considered the same?

With how intense and angry everyone is becoming you could see yourself having to take her in to be tested.

To be monitored.

And she is just a baby.

You can’t imagine how others must feel - people who are older, who are just trying to live their lives. The girl who was killed was just trying to fix her bike, like millions of other people do every weekend. She wasn’t going to other countries to fight terrorists. She wasn’t trying to use her powers to rule over others. She wasn’t hurting anyone.

But she was different, so they killed her.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I need help!”

You’re ripped from your spiraling thoughts and look across the room to where Minnie is sprawled out on the floor. Her Starkpad is in front of her, and she’s set up Pig and Scooby so they are also peering down at the device and you know exactly what she is doing.

It is the same thing she has been doing for a week straight - playing a bootleg Muppet’s math game.

Since meeting Spider-man, all your little Mouse has wanted to do is learn math. She keeps saying she wants to impress him and make him proud, and you are in no way going to discourage her. Every day has been filled with counting and addition and subtraction and you are a bit amazed she has stayed so focused.

You are not going to complain at all about it - you are getting time to yourself while she has been glued to Elmo and Kermit.

You leave your phone on the dining table and head towards your daughter.

“You need help?” you confirm as you crouch beside her. The screen shows a Muppet you don’t recognize, along with various numbers floating around them, and up at the top, the equation that has your little Mouse stumped.

“I need help!” Minnie repeats as she scrambles up off her belly and into sitting. “I don’t have enough fingers!”

She holds up both her hands to show you all ten of her itty-bitty fingers and you make a sympathetic noise.

Mouse has been getting pretty good at using her fingers to help her with addition and subtraction, but on only one hand. She uses the index finger on her right hand to help count by pointing at each finger and hasn’t quite worked out she can use her fingers to point and count. That is okay, though, as you are happy to lend yours to her important cause.

“Okay, how many fingers do you need?”

You hold out your hands and she instantly begins to manipulate them.

“This one…this one needs three! One, two, three!” She pushes your thumb and index finger down so the other three remain up, then she pushes down the pinky of the other hand. “And this one is four!”

“So, three and four? What are we doing with three and four?” You ask, trying to not laugh at her determined face.

“We adds them!” She chirps, before starting to jab at your fingers, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! That’s seven fingers! Mommy, it’s seven! Three plus four is seven!”

“That’s right, it is seven. Which number is seven?” You direct her back to her game, where she triumphantly picks the correct symbol. The Muppet congratulates her before presenting a new equation.

Minnie squeals in delight before ripping the device off the ground and shoving it in your face, “I know this one! Mommy! I know this one! It’s three! Mommy! It’s three!”

You can’t even process what the question is before the screen is out of sight. Your daughter holds her Starkpad above her head, treating it like some war prize as she starts spinning and dancing around the living room.

“It’s three! It’s three! It’s three!”

You laugh at her antics, heartwarming at her pureness. How could anyone ever think she’s a danger?

“Are you sure it’s three?” You tease as you watch her.

She whips around to you, eyes scrunching up into a glare, and barks, “It’s three!”

“Okay, okay, it’s three.”

You push yourself up into standing just as Mouse returns to her spot. She drops her Starkpad to the ground a little harder than you would prefer, but that is why it has a big bulky case. She plops down in front of it and happily smacks the number three that is floating around the screen.

You let yourself watch her for a few seconds, silently bombarding her with all the love you feel for her. You want to wrap her up and live in this bubble forever.

Except, there is one element missing from your perfect moment. You wish there were a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a chin on your shoulder. You want to lean back against a muscular chest and lose yourself to eternity like that.

Instead of indulging those thoughts, you tell yourself to stop fantasizing and you make your way back to the kitchen to check on dinner.

Vegetable curry has been simmering on the stove for most of the day. It has been a while since you had the energy to make the dish from scratch, but you had a craving this morning and went all out. You’ve made curry for Minnie before, and she did not complain - though you think that is because her portion was mostly rice and hot dog cuts. You plan to do the same again tonight, and if she wants more sauce, you’ll give it to her.

You check your seasonings and give everything a stir to make sure nothing gets stuck at the bottom of the pot. The rich aroma tickles your nose, and you are glad you don’t have to wait much longer to treat yourself.

As you debate adding a pinch more salt, you catch Minnie sneaking towards you out of the corner of your eye. Her movements are slow and dramatic, and you pretend you don’t notice her. This ruse works, and you appropriately jump in fear when she suddenly tugs on your shirt.

“Up!” She demands and you oblige, scooping your daughter onto your hip. As soon as she is high enough, she cups her hands around your ear and leans into whisper, “Daddy saids the food smells yummy-yummy.”

She quickly dissolves into giggles, and it is infectious, so you end up smiling.

Matt hasn’t been over for dinner in a hot minute, and you are hoping to have a nice quiet family night, before he goes out on his Patrol. The plan is to watch a movie after your meal and Minnie has already prepared for this by dragging multiple blankets out to the couch. You just know she is going to demand a cuddle pile, and now that you and Matt are intimate, it isn’t something you are nervous about.

You just want to have a good time.

“Can you tell Daddy everything is almost ready?” you ask, even though you know Matt can probably hear you just fine.

Mouse, always eager to be helpful, nods and relays the message directly into your ear. You try to not grimace, and so it won’t happen again, set her down on the ground.

“Can you plug in your Starkpad so it can sleep for the night?”

She streaks off to do her newly assigned task, leaving you to start setting the table. When you were at the store, you bought Matt a bottle of beer - a brand you know he likes - and you set it at his designated spot. You’ve grown accustomed to just drinking water and juice, but you don’t want to push that on to him - not when he’s a guest and coming over after a long day of work.

As you start to make everyone’s plates, you hear the water in the bathroom turn on. You know Minnie knows the routine for getting ready for dinner and you just hope she isn’t trying to wash Scooby’s paws again. You are worried he’ll end up moldy and you aren’t sure what you will do if that happens. You peek into the living room and are relieved to see your daughter’s best friends have been relocated to sitting on the coffee table, facing the television.

You finish setting everything up just in time, it seems. Minnie runs from the hallway right to the door as you go to wash your own hands, and you rush to get all the soap off so you can help her open the door.

Matt is standing on the other side, looking handsome as ever in a gray suit. He looks like he’s had a busy day - his hair is windswept, and he is sporting a strong five o’clock shadow. There is a garment bag draped over his arm and his saddle bag looks a little bulkier than usual and you wonder if he ran some errands on his lunch - picking up his dry cleaning and such.

You barely have time to take in his appearance before Mouse is launching herself at him.

“Daddy!” She shrieks and Matt oh so easily swings her up onto his hip. “Daddy! We’re having vege-tuhble kermies for dinner! I helped make it! I cut up ALL the carrots! By myself!”

“By yourself, huh?” Matt confirms, a bright, warm smile taking up his entire face. “Soon you’ll be making us dinner.”

You step aside so he can come in and help to take his things to hang while Mouse soaks up his attention.

“No! Mommy makes dinner because…’cause she makes the bestest foods. I just help!”

“You are a very good helper,” you interject, “You keep a very clean workstation. A professional chef would be proud.”

Minnie beams at the praise, then a microsecond later, is wiggling in to be let down. Her feet hit the ground and she takes off running back toward the living room, probably to collect something to show off to her Daddy.

Matt takes the small break to turn his attention to you. A hand goes to your cheek, and instead of a brief ‘hello’ peck, he kisses you like he wants to turn and pin you to the wall. It catches you off guard, but you easily melt into it. You clutch at the lapel of his suit jacket and try to not moan as he nips at your lips. You open your mouth for him, but being the tease he is, he pulls back just enough to whisper against you.

“Been thinking about that all day.”

The words send your blood rushing - some north to your cheeks and the rest to your cunt.

He’d been thinking about you? About wanting to kiss you? Or has he been thinking about more than that - because you must admit, you’ve been thinking about it. You’ve had more than a few thoughts about what you want to do to him the next time you two are alone together and those thoughts were certainly very explicit.

��Matt…” you totally do not whine out but instead of replying, his grin just turns cocky. He pulls away as Minnie returns to the entryway, and you decide you need a drink of your water. You escape and Mouse starts showing off her latest masterpieces to Matt.

Food coloring, cotton balls, and popsicle sticks have proven to be a massive hit and Minnie has made a whole collection of things for Matt - there’s butterflies and flowers, a house with clouds, and various abstract pieces. You are sure his office is already filled to the brim with his daughter’s art, and you would not be surprised if he started to hang things from the ceiling when he does run out of room. He seems to treasure every little thing Minnie has given him and it warms your heart so much. You hope that love never runs out.

Somehow, Matt ushers Minnie back to the dining room while she shoves different papers into his hands and gets her up in her booster seat.

“I’m going to put all these in my bag, so they don’t get dirty or lost, okay?” He tells Minnie, who nods way too enthusiastically.

“Keep them clean!” And then, just like that, she switches from being excited her Daddy is there to being a hungry toddler. She whips around to face you and asks in an almost impatient manner, “Can I has my hot dogs now?”

You give her the go ahead as Matt returns to the table and takes his place. You quickly tell him the placement of everything, including his beer, then quickly add, “If you don’t like it, I have a few different things I could make you. Or we could order something.”

A brief panic runs through you when Matt scoffs. You think you’ve insulted him - having him come all the way to Chelsea to eat a dinner he won’t enjoy and having to find a substitute.

“I love curry and this smells delicious. I wouldn’t trade it for the world - in fact, I’m hoping some of those leftovers on the stove are for me to take home and lord over Fog tomorrow.”

You flush at his sweetness and mumble out you’ll pack him some to go. This seems to please him, and he starts to dig in. Ever the little parrot, Minnie mimics him by shoveling food into her mouth with a big grin and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“It’s nummy!” Your little one declares, and even if she’s just eating plain rice right now, you’ll take it as a win. You know well she won’t eat what she doesn’t like.

“Speaking of yummy,” Matt starts, slow and deliberate, with his head angled towards you, “I was hoping we could go somewhere yummy together.”

You blink slowly at the statement, rolling it over in your mind and trying to dissect the meaning. Did he want to go somewhere for dessert? Maybe get ice cream or something? “Somewhere yummy…?”

“Mhm,” he hums, then his smile becomes a bit more sly. Even though you know it isn’t true, you feel like, behind his glasses, he is hungrily looking you up and down, “Somewhere like Uvas.”

The name doesn’t automatically generate anything for you, but after a moment, it dawns on you. Uvas in a Spanish restaurant near Central Park known to be high end and impossible to get into. It’s been in the local tabloids a few times for turning away minor celebrities who don’t meet the dress code. You’re mouth parts slightly in shock.

“What’s Oo-vuhas?” Minnie asks around her fork, her big eyes looking between you and Matt. “Do theys has yummy foods?”

“Oh, they have yummy food,” Matt teases. He then leans forward a bit in his seat and stage whispers to her, “It’s where I want to take Mommy for a date.”

“A date?” Minnie scrunches up her face at the word while your mind is still spinning.

Matt wants to take you on a date? To Uvas? You have never been anywhere that fancy or expensive as a date. Hell, you’ve never been somewhere that fancy, period. The nicest date you’ve ever been on was Hard Rock Cafe - which says a lot about your dating life.

“A date,” Matt confirms, smug and knowingly scheming. You can hear it in his voice as he tells Minnie, “That is where Mommy and Daddy go and have dinner together as grown-ups.”

Up goes Minnie’s hand into her mouth, but it stays there only a split second. Her eyes get impossibly bigger and filled with wonder, and she whispers, “Like Lady and Tramp?”

“Exactly like Lady and Tramp.”

“Mommy!” Minnie says a little too loudly, pointing her fork at you. “You gotta go to Oo-vuhas and be Lady and Tramp! You gotta!”

And at that moment you know you can’t say no, and that Matt knows that. You can’t tell your daughter you don’t want to be like Lady and Tramp. Not that you don’t want to go on a date with Matt - the idea gets you giddy and makes your stomach flutter - but you thought if it happened, it would be a coffee or something. Not somewhere where you can’t even afford to look at the building. The idea makes you a little nauseous, because you are sure you’d make an absolute fool of yourself.

But Matt looks determined and sure of himself. You are certain he asked in front of Minnie so that she could help bully you into saying yes to such a lavish date.

Luckily, your mind is working in overdrive, and you choke out, “I don’t have anything to wear. They have a dress code, don’t they?”

You don’t expect Matt to push his chair out and get up. Your throat instantly tightens up and fear shoots up your spine. Have you offended him? He clearly wants to do something with you and you’re over here hesitating. You must be coming off as a complete bitch.

You start to stand up yourself as Matt disappears into the entryway. You don’t think he’d just leave without saying goodbye to Minnie.

Maybe you can talk to him - explain that somewhere a little less grand would be ideal to start.

Before you can start to follow him, Matt is coming back to the table, holding up the garment bag he brought with him, still looking like the cat that got the canary.

“I thought you might say that,” he starts, his voice almost a little musical, “so I got you this.”

You stare dumbly at him, shock and confusion overtaking your system.

He got you something to wear? To Uvas?

No one has ever bought you clothes before - except your parents. Even when you were pregnant, the small amount of gifts you got were all for Minnie.

You distantly hear Minnie start saying something about presents, but it is all muffled under the sound of blood pumping through your ears. You step forward hesitantly and reach out for the zipper of the bag, your hand shaking slightly.

You expect it to be a joke. You’re going to open the bag and there’s going to be a clown costume inside, or a skimpy dress people like arm candy to wear, or something akin to a Burka.

You don’t expect a black floor length sheath gown. The silhouette is simple, but you can tell just by looking at it the quality of the dress is top notch. The fabric has a nice weight to it, and it is incredibly soft to the touch that you have the distinct feeling that it did not come from a dress warehouse or a department store.

This type of dress would come from a boutique uptown and would cost a few hundred dollars.

You are so caught up in admiring the dress, you don’t notice Minnie come up beside you until she is also touching the dress. Panic that she might have crumbs or curry on her fingers runs through you, but you force it down.

“It’s like a princess dress for Mommy!” Mouse cooes and you feel your face start to heat up.

You’ve never worn something so nice before and certainly nothing that would be fit for a princess, but it seems like Matt and Minnie are on the same page.

“Well, I want Mommy to feel like a princess.”

You want to hide your face, but you know you can’t, so you cover your mouth instead.

“Matt, this is beautiful. But this is so much, I can’t accept this.”

You know that while Matt is a lawyer, he’s still struggling a bit financially. If he had his way, you know he wouldn’t charge anyone for his services, and even though Nelson, Murdock, and Page has paying customers, they still have to stagger out their bills.

He shouldn’t be spending his hard saved money on you.

Matt sighs your name before gently draping the garment bag over the back of his dining chair and stepping towards you. Both his hands go to your waist, and you freeze up as he steps close enough to press his forehead to yours. Your heart begins to wildly beat when his hands slowly begin to rub your sides.

“Let me spoil you. To make up for all the dates I’ve missed. Please?” His lips dip into a small frown and you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy.

He’s gone out of his way for you, and you are being so ungrateful.

But it is so hard to say yes. Guilt is pooling in your stomach, and you just want to disappear into the shadows and be forgotten about. That is so much easier than Matt holding you, saying such sweet things.

You don’t want to ruin everything.

You close your eyes as you have a war inside yourself. All you have to say is ‘Yes’ and you’ll make Matt happy, but the monster inside of you keeps dragging your mind into a pit.

Matt wants to treat you like a princess, but how crushing will it be when he decides that is no longer the case? Can you take that?

The corners of your eyes start to sting and your monster starts to mock you for getting worked up over something as simple as being asked on a date.

Why can’t you be normal?

Why can’t you accept this?

Why can’t -

The thoughts cease as Matt’s lips press against yours, soft and sweet and tempting. You respond hesitantly.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes into your mouth, making you shudder. “You deserve it.”

“You deserve it!” Minnie chirps from beside your knees and you very suddenly remember where you are and what you were doing. You try to pull away from Matt, thinking Minnie hasn’t seen the two of you like this yet, and it might confuse her, but he keeps his hands firmly planted on your hips, not letting you go. You don’t try to fight it, instead, you turn your head away, trying to hide away in your shell.

You know there is no way you will win this. Matt is determined and he clearly has Minnie on his side, so, very hesitantly, and feeling like you are going to throw up at any moment, you nod into Matt’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

Mouse lets out a deafening cheer and you feel her dart away.

“LADY AND TRAMP! LADY AND TRAMP! LADY AND TRAMP!”

Matt laughs at her excitement over something she doesn’t understand, while you tuck yourself into his hold, wondering how long you have before he ends up shattering your heart into pieces.

---

tags:

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal

@allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

#soulie writes #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #and then i met you #matt murdock x you

298 notes · View notes

transit-fag · 10 months ago

Text

#polls #urbanism

933 notes · View notes

lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 months ago

Text

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 9

Weeks pass, and their evening phone calls continue. The timing varies, but its a rare day that Kara doesn't hear from Lena. Each call feels like a gift, as Kara remains conscious of the constraints on Lena's time, and the energy expended on days she does her shows.

But on those rare evenings where her phone stays quiet, Kara can't help the concern that tickles at the back of her mind. She manages to refrain from issuing a check in, certain that it would be considered a nag, or at the very least an entitlement to Lena's time.

The morning following one such evening, the first text she receives comes in after she settles behind her desk, ready to tackle a mountain of paperwork. When she opens the chat window, she's confused to see an image of a glass-paned wall of an office building.

It's not until she spots the building number that she realizes that it's *her* building.

She all but sprints to the lobby, bursting through the front doors to come to a sudden stop to see a black suv and a casually dressed Lena Luthor leaning against it.

When Lena beams, warmth pools in Kara's chest. She surges back into motion, breathlessly throwing her arms around Lena to squeeze long and hard.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Lena says into her shoulder, seemingly content to remain in Kara's embrace as long as possible.

Kara laughs. "The best surprise. I've missed you."

When she pulls back, Lena all but bounces on her toes. "You down to play hookie with me?"

"Dodging another meeting?"

"Actually.... I miiiiight have cleared my schedule." From her puckish grin, Lena doesn't appear to feel all that guilty about it.

Kara's heart skips a beat. She can't remember the last time anyone has ever set aside time dedicated to her. It's been years since her last real committed relationship, and even then the time she spent with her partner had been perfunctory, a matter of course. It hadn't made her feel... special.

"Let me grab my purse."

---

They go to the movies. It's Lena's idea, but Kara is the one to choose the goofy comedy that has Lena in stitches before the end of the first act. And if the sound of Lena's giggling heats Kara's cheeks, who could blame her?

They continue to snack on their bucket of popcorn even as they leave the theater. Lena wears the same denim jacket over a zip up hoodie that she'd worn their first day in the park, and with her sunglass firmly in place, she almost looks like a normal person. No one seems to give them a second glance, for which Kara is deeply grateful for.

Selfishly, she wants to keep Lena for herself, for as long as possible.

"When's the last time you went on vacation?" Lena asks, apropro of nothing.

Kara blinks at the unexpected question. She takes time off every year, but she doubts her little staycations to relax and recharge are what Lena would consider a proper break.

"Define vacation," Kara hedges.

Lena laughs. "Time away, somewhere else. Maybe... with someone?"

Sensing the direction the conversation is headed, a thrill of adventure sparks in Kara's belly, even as she begins to talk her way out of it.

"Lena, I don't know..."

"I know, I know, but listen! I've got five days before my next show in Paris, and it's the longest stretch I'll have free for months, and... I want to spend those five days with you."

Kara stares at her. Lena rushes to fill the silence.

"We could go to Capri. Or the alps, if you want somewhere cooler? Or--"

"Yes," Kara interjects. Lena's rambling halts in surprise. Kara grins. "I don't care where we go."

Lena's answering smile puts the sun to shame.

---

Capri is gorgeous. Kara expects to them to be taken to another lavish hotel, but instead their driver heads to residential area, and when they stop, Kara finds herself at the gate of a sprawling villa.

"Wow."

Lena nudges her playfully. "Wait til you see the real view.

Kara follows Lena's lead. Carry-ons in hand, they make their way into the main area of the villa. When Lena places her bag on one of the long couches in the middle of the room, Kara does the same, then allows Lena to lead her by the hand to the verandah at the back.

The whitewashed terrace serves as the perfect frame for the vista that sprawls beyond the walled perimeter of the villa, all the way down to flat stretch of ocean reaching towards the horizon.

"Wow..." Kara breathes.

"I know, right?" Lena turns, sidling a little closer to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Kara's jaw. When her head rested on Kara's shoulder, Kara let her cheek rest atop it. "I'm glad you're here."

Kara sighs, surprisingly content. "Me too."

---

Though the villa's kitchen is fully stocked and equipped, Lena insists on going out for dinner. "I'm not about to stay in on a night like tonight," she says, and Kara offers little protest.

They choose the restaurant on sight alone, and the food is sumptuous and, once the sun goes down, decorated with a blanket of stars overhead. Lena looks stunning in a white shift dress, perfect for the weather and venue, and Kara's gaze roves in a certainly non-platonic way. She only feels a little bad about it when Lena catches her staring.

The other woman's gaze deepens as she reads Kara's appreciation in her expression, and a knowing smile curls her lips. When Lena's bare foot brushes Kara's shin beneath the table, Kara can't bring herself to pull away. She wants Lena, and she's rapidly running out of reasons to talk herself out of it.

Along the walk back to the villa, Kara points out as many constellations as she can recognize, only for Lena to laugh.

"There is no way I could possibly tell which stars you're pointing at," she says.

Rather than be deterred, Kara pulls them to stop. She positions herself behind Lena, her front pressing close against Lena's back. So close that she can feel the hitch of Lena's breath when Kara reaches one arm over her right shoulder, pointing at the brilliant anchor of the big dipper.

"There. You've got the bright one, which is Polaris. The north star. Follow it that way, and you can see the rest of Ursa Major."

Kara turns her chin to gaze down at Lena. The younger woman's skin glows in the moonlight, her hair nearly merging into the shadows. She looks ethereal against the moonlight off the sea, but in Kara's arms she's all to tangible.

"See it?"

"Yeah," Lena croaks. She tries again. "Yeah, I do." She shifts, reaching back to let one hand rest against Kara's hip. The touch is intimate though non-sexual-- a simple gesture to keep Kara exactly where she is. "Show me more?"

Kara does. She's able to point out most of the greeks-- Orion and Cassiopeia and Andromeda, among others. It's at least another hour before they get back to the villa, and the long walk leaves them melting into the couch the moment they sit.

Unable to keep from dozing off, even with the lights blazing, Kara wakes hours later to find Lena asleep on her shoulder. It doesn't even occur to her to move.

When next she wakes, however, Lena is nowhere to be found. Sunlight streams through the tall arched windows, illuminating the spacious room with a pale light that doesn't help this trip feel any less like a dream.

Stretching the kinks out of her back as she rises, Kara meanders to the kitchen, only to find it similarly empty. From there she explores the adjoining hallways, until the sound of hushed, harsh murmurs draws her towards one of the bedrooms.

Peeking through the open door, Kara spies Lena pacing, phone pressed tightly to her ear in agitation. Kara can't discern her words, but her tone is clear enough-- something is wrong.

Lena looks up when Kara gives the door a light push, and Kara is taken aback by the tears glittering in her eyes. Lena turns away slightly, muttering a swift "I have to go," before ending the call.

"I'm sorry," Lena grinds out, turning back towards Kara. "This-- this was a terrible idea, and I-- I shouldn't have pushed it--"

"Whoa, hey..." Kara interrupts gently. "What's wrong?"

Lena sniffs, before unlocking her phone to give to Kara. There, in all their telephoto glory, are a slew of photos-- of them. Here in Capri. One of them captures the moment Lena had kissed Kara's jaw the day before on the terrace, and others track their trek through the village and their dinner at the restaurant. The last one shows the two of them at the outlook, Lena pressed to Kara's front, with Kara's arm stretching towards the stars.

"I know--" Lena's voice cracks. "I know you didn't want this. That you didn't-- want to be seen with me."

Kara frowns. Papparazzi hasn't even been a thought in her mind, beyond one of their outings being interrupted by people hounding Lena. Her concern-- her *only* hesitation to committing towards something deeper-- has been the dread of losing Lena before having more than a taste of her.

"I swear, I didn't know they knew where we'd be," Lena continues. By now, quiet tears have spilled down her cheeks. "I didn't *know*--"

"Hey," Kara says sofly, cupping Lena's damp cheeks with both hands. "It's okay."

Lena shakes her head. "It's not," she croaks. "You didn't want this..."

"I want you."

The confession comes easier than Kara expects. It stills Lena to a mere tremble, her eyes taking on a hopeful glimmer through the tears.

"Anything else, I'll handle it."

Lena swallows, throat clicking. "*We'll* handle it?" she corrects, tentatively.

Offering a smile, Kara leans in and presses a soft kiss to Lena's lips.

"We," Kara confirms.

Lena exhales, tension bleeding from her in a visible whoosh. She steps Kara's arms when they open, nestling herself into the embrace as her hands grip tightly against Kara's shoulderblades.

"We'll do it together."

#supercorp #musician age gap au #bit of a longer one #but hopefully worth it #there are... developments

185 notes · View notes

calumfmu · 6 months ago

Note

Could…uh…we ever get a part two of Fgirlxsteve?

My love, my sweet, sweet love. Here it is. <3 Steve x Fuckgirl!Reader (part one here) 18+ mdni; smut, unprotected sex, cream pie, sweet!Steve, his idea of dirty talk is sweet nothings, fingers, eating out (female receiving), aggressive men (not Steve), 4.5k+ words

Avoiding the Family Video had been easy for you, it was just another place you had marked on your bed post. With all the pick in Hawkins, it was just another spot you had learned to add to your 'avoid-at-all-costs' list, along with the bowling alley, library down on 17th, and even the post office.

You occupied yourself with the other picking of men in the town, going after whatever you could get your hands on. They weren't as good as Steve, but you couldn't think about him. Whatever had happened between the two of you shouldn't have even been a topic of conversation, it should've been the last thing on your mind.

Yet that's how you found yourself arguing in the middle of the street, barefoot, shoes in hand with the new conquest of the week.

He was clingy, desperate to get you alone at any second he could, getting snappy when it came to other men even looking at you. It was toxic to say the least, but nothing that wasn't new to you. Toxic was your love language, but when it came to him, it was something else.

"This isn't how it works!" You yelled at him, your bag slipping off of your shoulder. The thing leather strap of it caught at the bend of your wrist, swinging in the air as you became more heated.

Taking a few steps away from him, you attempted to lean down to slide your shoes on, hopping a little in your movements.

"Babe, come on, just get in the car," the annoying man pleaded, hands waving in the air as he followed you. The two of you were walking down the middle of this road, residential area that was a little too quiet for the events that were taking place.

"Don't call me that!"

You didn't even turn to look at him, quickening your footsteps as you looked both ways to find peace away.

"Babe!" Another call of the word that made your stomach flip, eyes roll in annoyance.

The streets looked unfamiliar to you, parts of Hawkins you had yet to make your way around. Green lawns, green trees with leaves that were just starting to fall at the end of summer, abandoned children toys in the front of houses, a maroon beemer that looked oh, so familiar. The sight of it had your movements faltering, feet stumbling on the pavement.

The man that you were avoiding had time to catch up with the stumble in your gait, his hands coming up to grab at your upper arm.

"Come on," he said your name smoothly, milky white teeth shining behind the words in a smile. "Just get in the car, and we'll work it out."

All you saw was red, his handsome features turning up to make himself look foolish. You tried shaking your arm out of his grip, but it was no use, his fingers digging into your skin. Baring your teeth at him, you hissed at him, wanting to lean into a more primitive side that was clawing to get out.

"Let. Go," the anger in your words soured the taste of your mouth. He cocked his head to the side, eyeing you up and down. "No-"

The call of your name had you looking at a house a bit of the ways down, Steve standing in the yard, looking at the scene in front of you. He questioned you again, the sound of his voice calling out and down the street.

"Steve?" You repeated back, not believing that of all places you would find yourself right in front of his house. The eye roll you tried so hard to fight was beginning to come out, a situation for disaster bubbling up.

This situation was just what you needed.

"Are you okay?" His voice drew nearer as he took a few steps towards the two of you. Your failed date still had his fingers glued to your arm, your skin turning a few shades lighter from where they dug in. "What's going on?"

"Who are you?" You attempted taking a step back away from him, but didn't make it far, his grip pulling you right back into his side.

"I'm Steve."

"He's Steve."

The two of your voices blended together as Steve arrived in front of you. His eyes dropped to the grip on your person, brow furrowing slightly as he noticed the discomfort in your face. He gave you a slight nod of his head, checking in with you to see if he was reading this situation in the way that it truly was.

You wanted to be stubborn, wanted to not see him after the last moments that you shared together. It was awkward enough that the man had called your house a few times after you left him high and dry, you didn't want him to see the down side of the lifestyle you chose. With a slight nod back to him, he understood the message clearly.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you go back in your house with mommy and daddy, and leave the two of us alone?" The man by your side huffed out his chest a little, trying to intimidate Steve into fleeing the scene.

It made the two of you give him a side eye, lips turned up in disgust at him.

"I think I'm good," Steve nodded, hands stuffed into his pockets. Taking a step closer towards your other side, you could see the gears turning in his head as he scuffed his shoes along the pavement.

"So... what are you? Her knight in shining armor?" His hand finally left your arm, your fingers coming up to rub the bruise that was already starting to form. He took a step towards Steve, eyes squinting up at him from the few inches short he was.

"Yeah, something like that," Steve bit back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, raising his eyebrows.

Your date took a long look at him, gritting his teeth before glancing at you. As if he thought about it, he turned on his heel away from the two of you, waving an absent hand in your direction.

"You're not even that hot anyways," he yelled at you before angrily marching to his car. The door closed with a slam, tires screeching on the pavement before he swerved off in your direction, narrowly missing the two of you before Steve grabbed your shoulder, urging you out of the way.

The air was filled with the stench of burnt rubber and gasoline as the sound of his engine grew quiet as he sped off.

"Ouch," you whispered, grimacing at the burning of your arm and the comment he left you with. It shouldn't hurt as much coming from the biggest asshole of Hawkins, but the ache was still there.

"Are you okay?"

Steve's hand was still on your shoulder, rubbing small circles on the skin. The sleeve of your top was wrinkling under his touch, the thin material scratching at your skin. It was all too domestic for you, a new desperation filling your stomach to flee the situation.

Taking a step away from him, you fixed your hair, dabbed under your eyes, and tried to collect your composure.

"You don't have to act all nice to me, Steve," your voice was shaky as you felt as if you were under a microscope. You didn't have to look at him to recognize the confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, attempting to get closer again only to stand in place at the dramatic step you took back. "I'm not-I'm being a decent person right now, especially with what just happened. What?"

"Nothing just happened." You remained firm in your denial, it was the only way to maintain face.

He looked down at his shoes, awkwardly tilting his feet from side to side as he debated the situation. His hair was running wild in the wind that was just starting to pick up, his tattered grey hoodie with 'Hawkins Basketball' printed on the front rippled as he sighed deeply, faded denim on his legs lengthening him.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him no matter how much you wanted to flee the situation, him being the most appetizing thing that you've laid your eyes once since the first day you met him. It wasn't what you should've been thinking about after the events that occurred, but he was tempting you in a way that scared you a little.

"Why don't you come inside? I could take you home-"

Your eyes cut to him quickly, narrowing as he raised his hands in defense. He nodded quickly, clearing his throat to continue his next few sentences carefully.

"-Or I could call you a cab or... something," he finished, chewing on his bottom lip. You could see the nerves eating away at him, his eyes trying not to stare at you in your baby tee and short shorts, skin prickling with goosebumps. If he asked, you would tell him it was because of the weather, not him.

You let out a bitter laugh, "Like there's cabs on this side of town."

The only sound that could be heard was the wind blowing through the trees, a far child's laughter from the nearest house to you, a barking of a dog.

"Come on," he whispered, his hand leaving his pocket. Slowly, he reached up to grab your hand. You didn't know why you did, let him grab your fingers into his grip. There was a slight clamminess to his hands, his nerves showing dominance over his posture. "Please."

With a slight nod of your head, you let him lead you two his house, a few hundred feet away from the remnants of the dramatic scene. The entry way was grand and huge, something that had you giggling to yourself over how much money this kid seemed to have.

"Nice place, Steve," you muttered, allowing him to hold the door open for you, take your bag from your shoulder, place it on a table in the foyer. It was a little too domestic for you, even if you wanted to welcome it. "Bet you have a nice trust fund to match it."

"Ha." His eyebrows raised with dry humor even as his face stayed the same. Sensitive topic, you noted.

With his hand on the small of your back, he led you up the stairs and into his room, his grid work wallpaper screaming at you as soon as the door opened. You whistled long and low, taking an exaggerated look around the room, before you turned to face him, plopping down on the mattress.

You bounced on the plush comfort of it, your palms splaying out beside you as you felt his comfort beneath your fingers.

"Already taking me to bed, I see," you wiggled your eyebrows at him, small smirk coming up to the corners of your mouth. He rolled his eyes at you, his own smile coming up to his face as he closed the door behind him.

"There she is," he laughed, moving to sit next to you. He bumped your hip with his own as he gestured for you to make room for him.

You laid down back on his bed, your hands coming up to feel the mattress cover above your head. With the lift of your arms, you felt your abdomen become exposed, the cool air of his room hitting your skin. His eyes ran over your figure, not lingering on the exposure of your skin, but settling on your eyes. It was the most naked you had ever felt in front of someone.

"So..." One of your hands reached down to grab at the hoodie he adorned, slightly lifting it to show the tan skin underneath. "What am I here for, handsome?"

The flush in his cheeks came and went quickly, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

"You don't have to-" He began before you sat up to lean into his side. Your hand came to his cheek, feeling day old stubble underneath your touch. With the closeness, you could see the different shades of brown behind his eyes, warmth that you had yet to see in the men you slept with.

"What if I want to, Steve?" You whispered, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing before leaning into the kiss you pressed to his mouth, his lips molting with yours.

He tasted as sweet as last time, only seemed to get better at kissing than your last touch. It was short and sweet, mouths moving into one as you began to run your hand down his abdomen. His chest was firm beneath your touch, his teeth were a dull tug at your bottom lip, tongue asking for entrance.

"Wait-" He pulled away from you, eyes fluttering open as a small whine left your lips. "Is this going to be like last time?"

An unfamiliar ache formed in your chest at his words, your eyes bulging slightly at the hurt on his face. It was almost like his words hurt you, the idea of him being hurt by the last time hurting you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you thought of what to say.

This could count as the first time a man left you speechless.

"I don't know what to... say," your hand left his body, your eyes looking everywhere but him. Everything in you wanted to run for the hills, look for that cab that he promised earlier.

He nodded, his own eyes wandering around his room. "I understand, maybe I should call some-"

"No," you said, turning to look at him as he went to raise off the bed.

He turned to look at you, glancing away every couple of seconds.

"No-don't... it won't be like last time," you said, cursing at yourself internally for the words that left your mouth. You didn't know what had gotten into you, maybe it was the promise of what was about to if you stayed a little longer and promised him something. He still looked unsure as you reached to grab his hand this time. "I promise."

"Are you lying to me?" He asked, placing his own hand on your cheek this time. His fingers smoothed the hair at your hairline, thumb running over the delicate skin. "Just to sleep with me?"

Shaking your head, your instincts screamed at you, no matter what your mind was set on.

"Promise."

You expected a clash of lips, but he came in soft and slow, nipping at your lips as the two of you moved to lay down on the bed. He was heavy over you, firm muscle and the broadness of his shoulders pining you down, pressing you into his bed.

Your hands snuck underneath his hoodie, feeling the expanse of his back under your fingertips, little bits of textured skin where you imagined his constellation of moles to be. In a swift movement and a brief separation of lips, he slid it off, revealing himself shirtless underneath.

You wanted to stare at him, run your hands over his chest, become familiar with each and every one of the beauty marks adoring his skin, but his lips proved to be more appetizing. The plush skin of them knew what they were doing, licking into your mouth and pulling at your own. He was languid in his movements, passionate kisses shared between the two of you as his hands tried to slip off of the shirt you wore, tangled up right beneath your chin as he didn't want to separate from you yet again.

Your bra exposed, he pulled away to press kisses to the globes of your boobs, sucking marks into the kiss. Blindly, his hand reached down to unbutton your shorts, fingers moving expertly as you helped take off the rest of your shirt, slipping it over your head. His free hand slipped into the other cup of your bra, toying with your nipple. You began to see stars, both of his hands and mouth busy.

With one hand dipping beneath the cotton of your panties, the other pinching your nipple slightly and his mouth nipping closer to your other one, you began to see stars. This couldn't have been the same nervous boy you saw a few months ago, his moves beginning to outshine your own.

A gasp left your mouth as his thumb caught your clit as his fingers began to dip lower, his index collecting the wetness of your cunt. It was a teasing motion, the way he teased dipping the tip of his finger in and switching back to running it along your wet seam.

Leaving your breast shining with his spit, he came back to your face, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You okay?" He asked, intently watching you fall apart beneath him. He had barely even touched you, but you were loving the way he made you feel.

Nodding, a moan fell from you as his finger pushed in further than he attempted before, a slight wiggle of the digit before he pulled it out again. He imitated the nod you gave him, a small smirk on his lips as he placed his hand on your forehead, thumb brushing across your eyebrow. You leaned into the touch, whining as his finger returned pressing all the way down to the knuckle.

He pumped it in once, twice before removing it all together, hand leaving your shorts.

"Good, baby, now take these off for me."

He saw the hesitation in your face as the word hit you, your eyes widening as you looked at him. You didn't give him or even yourself time to process it before you were kicking off the denim, waving your ankles as your shorts got caught. He laughed at your movements, unbuttoning his own jeans to ease up the pressure in his pants with his growing hard on.

Your underwear and bra followed suit, your nakedness feeling like so much in the room. Reaching for his pants, you wanted to see him naked, see him again.

"Tonight's about you," he said, moving you up the bed so you rested against his pillows. They were plush, your palms coming up to rest beside your head, as he settled over you. "My treat."

With a nod, you let him take over, let him press kisses to your body. He was treating you like you were a work of art, cherishing you with a trail of his love as he led down your body: a kiss to your right boob, then left, a kiss down to your belly button, a glance to you to make sure that you felt okay, a nod given to him. A kiss to your pubic bone, the spread of your legs wider before he settled down, thumb catching your clit.

He began small circles, leaning up on his elbows as his other hand ran up and down your slit. Looking down at him, he was focused on your cunt, eyes intently watching the wetness that began to pool more and more. He looked so casual, like he was filing his damn taxes as he stared down at you.

"Steve," you drawled out, hips twitching as the tease became too much. Glancing up at you, he gave a shift of his head before he leaned down to press a kiss to your folds.

It had you groaning, your eyes fluttering shut as his mouth made contact. As many men as you slept with, it had been a while since anyone had gone down on you.

He was just as slow and passionate as he was kissing you, his mouth making stake somewhere else. His tongue darting out to lick at you, kitten licks running up your folds, running over your hole, thumb still rubbing those damn circles into you.

You felt yourself dripping at the way he was working you, your fingers digging into the pillows around you.

"F-fuck."

He took it as encouragement, his tongue entering you. Moving one of your legs over his shoulder, he got closer to you, removing his thumb to replace it with his mouth.

A jolt ran through your spine as he sucked at you, loud slurping noises filling the room accompanied by your moans. Your hips were grinding down on his face, one of your hands reaching down to grip at his hair.

He was insatiable, tongue running flatly over you, fingers slipping inside to massage at your wet walls. He found that spot inside of you, spongy wall sucking him in even further. A few moans of his own sounded out against you, the vibration urging a new wave of wetness.

"Steve- I'm gonna-" you barely could warn him before you were pulsating around him, a gush of wetness soaking his mouth. He moaned even louder against your clit, the feeling of it having you pull him closer to your cunt.

He continued licking at you, another finger entering you as you fell apart. The over stimulation earned a yelp from you, your hips raising off the bed to get away from his tongue.

"St-steve, it's too much-"

He left you, fingers still pumping in and out of you as you peered up at you.

"That's all you got?" His smile was devious as he continued finger fucking you, curling them at just the right time. It felt like you were a teenager again with his fingers inside of you, your stamina keeping up like nothing ever before.

Rolling your eyes, you reached down to rub at your own clit, slightly wincing at the sensitive feeling.

"I need you," you whined, spreading your legs further.

He moved quickly before he was removing himself, towering over you while kicking off his jeans. It would've been comical if you weren't so horny, the way he was trying to hold himself up and tug his pants off, boner poking out so strong, you thought it was hurting him.

Once free, he reached around you, digging into his bedside drawer as he searched for something. A few curses left him as he came up short, items clattering around as his movements became more hurried. You could read his mind.

"It's okay, we don't have to use one," you said, placing a hand on his chest from where he hovered above you. Caught off guard, he looked down at you, confusion on his face.

"You don't-?"

"It's okay, Steve," you nodded at him, the gesture becoming a language between the two of you with multiple meanings. Your own way of trusting each other.

He returned to you, leaning on his elbow as he pressed a kiss to you. "I could find one for you, if you're unsure, I'm sure they're som-"

"Steve," you said, pulling him down for another kiss. "I promise it's okay."

With a look into your eyes, he got his confirmation, pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss was slow as he reached down between you to line himself up with your entrance. Pushing in, you both groaned into each other's mouths at the stretch, your brains becoming clouded with each other.

It was a lot, bigger than you'd taken before, the girth of his cock making up for everything you've never had before. Getting choked up, you clawed at him, wanting to bring him closer than he was, even if it wasn't possible.

Pressing to the hilt, he couldn't wait before pulling out, pushing in again with a slight force that had you moving up the bed. You couldn't help the noises falling from your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he fucked into you, one of his legs pushing up to lift your own up.

His mouth kissed every part of yourself that it could find, your head moving side to side as he cherished you. This was all too perfect, your chest full of an emotion you were quite unfamiliar with.

"Steve."

The tone in your voice had his hips stuttering, fucking into you a little quicker. You could tell he was close by the fast movement of his hips, jerks that threw off his rhythm, pushing into you a little too far, the press of your cervix that had your back arching with the twinge of pain. It was all too good though, the pain quickly merged into pleasure as his body covered your own.

"Fuck baby, you're so perfect."

His words had your back arching further, fingernails digging into the skin of his ass, pulling him even deeper.

"I could fuck you all day."

With a moan, you pulled your leg even higher, whining at the way his dark thatch of hair was rubbing against your clit. You saw stars behind your eyelids, his words only fueling the fire building in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm gonna make you mine, gonna cum all in you, make you mi-"

A high pitched whine left your mouth as you came around him, throbbing at the feeling of his dick deep inside. You would like to say it was the sex itself that made you tip over the edge, the feeling of him hitting your spot over and over. But the two of you knew that it was the promise of his words, the feeling of being wanted by him, needed by him hitting you in just the right spot.

Worked up and spent, you took his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his nose, then his forehead.

"Make me yours, baby," you whispered at him, watching the way his eyes fluttered shut and feeling his hips press into you once more before he paused, warmth filling you. You felt the twitch of his cock inside of you, throbbing deep as he filled you with his seed.

Groaning, he pulled out of you with a loud squelch that filled the air, one of his eyes closing in a grimace. He laid beside you, turning on his side as he stared at you.

You felt his eyes on you as you stared at the ceiling, feeling cock drunk to a whole different level. It should've had you feeling scared, but the only thing that you could feel was the warmth of him, comforting you.

His thumb rested on your hip, running small circles over the skin. The two of you watched his hand make the small movement, droplets of perspiration being wiped away.

"You could leave if you want," he whispered, voice breaking the quiet of the air. "I'm probably making you uncomfortable."

Looking up at him, you leaned up to press another kiss to his lips. His eyes found you again, shock behind the irises.

"I think I'm going to stay," you matched his low tone, smiling once his own came across his face. "I was playing hard to get at first, but now I promise I'll be hard to get rid of."

He made a dramatic face at you, a fake groan leaving his lips. "Ooo, talk dirty to me, baby."

You laughed at him as he leaned over you, pressing several kisses to your neck and chin, slathering you in his love. It still made you a little uncomfortable at the gestures, all of this a foreign concept to you. His touches began to feel a bit more like home to you, something that had been missing in all of the men that came before.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

#my writing #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #smut #Steve Harrington smut #request #ugh I loved this one

230 notes · View notes

fauustic · 1 year ago

Note

loved your bubble bath fic! can i make a request about miguel and reader who’s always doing favors for him (ex: bringing him lunch, patching him up after a rough night of fighting crime, checking up on him) and he tries to figure out why they’re doing this bc he thinks he’s a freak bc of his powers, until reader just confesses their undying love for him?

i hope i did this one justice! thank you for the request, anon!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst, comfort. miguel, unable to accept his changed self, runs into you.

warnings: newly genetically altered miguel, intense insecurity and self-consciousness on his end. use of "freak" as self-depreciation. spanish may be iffy, not the best so i had little help with a translator :)

word count: 4291

Miguel liked the apartment he found himself in, low-key and hidden away from most of the hustle and bustle of the city. The complex was barely busy, except the few residential college students just looking for a place with cheap rent and the couple drunk office-workers who drag themselves to their apartment late every-night.

Having his senses genetically evolved, he couldn’t exactly fight himself when it came to being observant. Miguel would accidentally eavesdrop on work conversation, learning rather disgusting secrets of his co-workers with a sneer before trying his best to cover his ears subtly. The rare moments he was walking along the street alone, he’d hear passing comments that would normally flatter him, but hearing it from hushed strangers made him feel a gross way. Like he was intruding beyond boundaries. Learning things he shouldn’t by accident made him feel like a social monster.

Miguel knew almost everything going on around him. So when he was able to pick up on the clink of keys jingling into the presumably-empty apartment right next to it, Miguel wasn't exactly curious about the new neighbor– if anything he was a bit irritated. Knowing he'd have to suffer through days due to your chores, or the clanging of pots around every dinner, it made him feel more of a freak. No one else had to deal with such problems, so the newfound issues arising ever since the incident of quite literally getting his genetics flipped upside down– it made his skin crawl and heart ache.

He would continue to suffer in quiet, claws digging into his pillow in a fit of agitation. Miguel will continue trying to live his life, and as you will yours.

It took weeks to finally run into you, as he stepped out of his own apartment and you were entering yours. It was a complete fluke, as Miguel began growing accustomed to wearing earbuds and turning on an easy-listening playlist to try and drown out the noises that normally put him so on edge.

He was locking his apartment before finally noticing your figure standing in your own doorway, a smile on your lips so genuine he almost was stunned. A welcoming neighbor in the city of Nueva York? Completely unheard of, quite frankly, it may even be considered suspicious.

The moment Miguel slipped off one of the earbuds, your voice met his eardrums in a way he's never heard anyone before. Usually, Miguel would gain a migraine after conversation with others. He's not used to his powers yet, and as much as it made him feel as if he was just some animal, the case didn't arise with you.

Smiling with sincerity, you held out your hand for him to take in a greeting. "Hi! I was wondering if I moved next to someplace haunted.." It was obviously a joke, yet when Miguel hadn't reacted you felt the need to explain in a much more awkward tone. "I suppose I just would hear some rummaging over on your side, but not a single person ever stepped foot out until now! Thought I was just hearing things." You giggled, rubbing the back of your neck while your other still hung with anticipation.

Miguel felt a subtle smile sneak itself onto his own features, before firmly shaking your hand back. "Ah, I hope you've been settling in well. Welcome to Nueva City, it's a pleasure to meet you." He wasn't necessarily trying to be awkward, it's just he technically does work all day, goes home, and then proceeds to pummel the absolute shit out of criminals corrupting the city. Miguel has lost a touch of charisma when it comes to new people, his usual way of conservating was from whoever was on the opposing side of his fists. A silence loomed over the two of you before you perked up, giving him a "hold on, there's something I have for you," before disappearing within your apartment.

Confusion etching his consciousness, Miguel shifted on his feet. "What?" He huffed out. Guilt seeped into his thoughts, why are you the one giving a gift? Shouldn't he be the one to bring a house-warming present?

Miguel shook his head, easily brushing off your antics with an excuse of you "being nice, wanting a friend close by." He practically chuckled at the idea, Miguel wasn't the type to befriend off a whim, as much as he hated it he knew he was played a tough facade for those around him. It was difficult to break that barrier as he didn't trust others well, let alone allow an opportunity to accidentally reveal his monstrous features to a civilian.

His doubts were interrupted with a light giggle from that melodious voice of your's, a nervous bounce in your step as you held out tupperware for him. It was nothing too big, only enough for a meal, but the warmth in his hands rendered him shell-shocked. Growing flustered, he opened his mouth to ask what this was before you quickly answered before the words tumbled off his lips.

"It's nothing special, I was just making some good ol' chicken alfredo pasta last night and had some leftover." You explained with a flurry of nervous hand gestures, catching Miguel's gaze. He found himself studying you excessively, the idea of eating a home-cooked meal for the first time that week had his mouth watering. "Since we never catch each other, I thought your schedule may not allow you to have a good meal every once and a while." Miguel couldn't deny that the idea made his chest bloom with a painful tenderness despite just thinking how he wouldn't cave easily for you.

He didn't deserve this normalcy from you. He didn't deserve this meal from someone like you, sweet and caring and human. As much as a voice whispered to him to open up, to accept this because he needed such kindness– Miguel shut his brain off as he met your own stare.

You were messing with a bracelet on your wrist with a downturned frown and a nervous glint in your eyes due to his abrupt silence. He perked up once realizing the anxiety was because of him, because of his reaction.

"This is.. very nice of you." Miguel confessed stiffly, unsure how to exactly react because he's not used to gifts. "Thank you..?"

You blurted your name out clumsily as he trailed off, and Miguel just couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his lips. It was nothing like the chuckle before, he felt happiness explode through his chest at the simple sight of you joining him.

"Thank you," Repeating your name, he caught the wobble of your smile when it purred off his tongue. His words were more genuine as the tension from before loosened. Miguel's gaze dropped from his next lunch to your hands, in which he couldn't help but squeeze them both in a reassuring manner. It may have been difficult with the tupperware sandwiched between his arm and hip, but he was determined to express his gratitude in a friendly manner. He knew he was acting a bit weird, but he truly was trying to hold it together.

"Miguel, Miguel O'hara." He finally introduced himself, almost wanting to slap his cheek over stupidly waiting so long to do so. But you just giggled, and the squeeze he felt on both his hands washed away any thoughts his insecurities infected him with. "So nice to meet you, Miguel." What an angel, un ser celestial he couldn't help the thought.

Your phone erupted through the comfortable silence that enveloped over the two of you, and with an apologetic glance you signalled you had to go. Before finally picking up your phone, you quickly sputtered out "have a good day at work!"

For the first time since his incident, he felt normal. The lighthearted conversation, the look of joy directed towards him in contrast to the usual fear. It fueled something inside him, a yearning for more.

Miguel, for the first time in so many years, looked forward to a day in the lab because of some chicken alfredo pasta. It was stupid, he knew that.

But as his tongue met the noodles later that shift, which were seasoned just right, accompanied with a tender, grilled slab of chicken– Miguel almost fell out on the floor of his lab. He had never missed home-cooked dishes more than now after finally getting a taste of your recipe.

Stabbing another forkful, he wondered why you didn't just keep the rest of it for yourself.

A full week passed until a light knock and ring to his doorbell met the dimly lit room.

He couldn't withstand bright lights, especially the overhead light of his apartment. Miguel's eyesight still was trying to get used to the sharpness, the ability to track a motion muscle by muscle. It was a blessing, being able to to spearhead figures in the dark– but lights enraged migraines he couldn't shake off for days.

Wincing as he dodged his suit lamely bundled on the floor of his apartment, Miguel couldn't help but hiss when his nose scrunched the wrong way. The stench of blood flooded his senses, the black eye forming tingling with pain. He was exhausted, and ready to tell off whoever decided to ring him this late into the hour.

What he didn't expect to see was you, standing in the doorway with a sleepiness to your expression as your pajamas hung loosely to your form. In your hands, this time, was a tray of cookies that looked as if they just left the oven. "Hey there, neighbor," you giggled with a tired haze in your tone, shifting your attention from your slippers to his own eyes.

Yet, after a few seconds of your eyes adjusting to the darkness, you were able to make his injuries out with a surprised gasp. The silly greeting was forgotten as quickly as it came, you demanded answers as the light from your own apartment seeped into his. Miguel's shock at seeing you up this late easily allowed you to push past him, laying the cookies down on the nearest counter you found.

"Miguel, what is wrong with your face?" You whispered with sadness, your grasp finding purchase on his cheeks. He couldn't bear this proximity with you, so he quickly pushed the advancement aside before trying to conjure up any excuse he could make.

"I had– a–" He sighed a huff of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose in habit. But the gesture was quickly ruined with his own whine of pain, something he didn't want you to hear at all. "I had a fight at work, okay?" Miguel hisses through fangs, yet they didn't catch your attention due to the chaos of suddenly finding "Well-Kept, Awkward Chemist Guy" with a bloodied nose and a bruising eye. "I didn't expect it, ya know? El científico loco. Took a few swigs of a sample and that went wrong. Was caught in the crossfire."

He hadn't realized you had wandered off, rampaging through his bathroom for medical supplies until you came back with the items in hand. "Go on, sit down." You ordered, and with confusion etched all over his face, Miguel couldn't allow himself to disobey.

The apartment, dark with the exception of a few neon lights peeking through the big windows every now-and-then, stayed silent except for the few "be quiets" in response to Miguel's hisses and muffled groans. He hated being so vulnerable in front of someone he knew so little of, which led him to bring out the question that's been on the tip of his tongue this entire time. He shuffled nervously in his seat that you led him to minutes ago as you stood in between his legs with a focused expression resting on your features.

But you beat it to him first. As your hands skillfully bandaged wounds littering his skin, one one his shoulder and a few other on his back, your solemn tone broke through Miguel's guilt like a talon against prey.

"I know that story you made up was utter bullshit,"

"What-"

"No, you listen to me O'Hara." You tutted, as stern as he's ever heard you. "I'm not asking for excuses, or an entire story that's a lie. I asked what happened because I was worried, I'm not mad."

Miguel's breathing hitched, looking at his nails that briefly unsheathed into claws before he was able to control his panicked shame. "Why?" He couldn't help but mumble, "why are you worried? You have no right to be, no somos nada el uno para el otro. Nothing is between us, you should have left the moment you saw." Miguel avoided your eyes that peered into his soul like you knew his secret, could read him inside out. Tears he didn't know he could produce clouded his vision, deeply moved from the drop of kindness you've granted him.

You sighed, heavy and lingering. Words were left unspoken as he was drawn into a hug by your arms, in which he greedily returned with his own hold.

Miguel fought within himself constantly, the idea of being accepted for his differences was completely foreign to him. But here you were, denying every thought he's ever had about himself. And you didn't even, truly know him.

"Don't cry," You murmured into his curls as you pet the back of his head before returning to applying a new, medicated bandaid on his nose. Swiping away tears as you brushed away dried blood, Miguel would choke out a "I don't deserve this, I don't," before being promptly cut off with a flurry of reassurance.

By the end of the night, Miguel allowed himself to be led to his bed by you, exhaustion evident within his walk as you had to help keep him steady.

It was nauseating, seeing Miguel in such a broken state. It made you wonder if he sat in his apartment, wallowing in his own mind. You had no idea what he was going through, but you were determined to keep him grounded.

That night, as Miguel was tucked into bed by you like a sick child, you vowed to try to be there more for the man you developed a genuine attraction to over the weeks of small chit chat.

The little shame he held close to his heart washed away with ease as throughout the upcoming weeks, your visits would become more frequent, showering him in little trinkets you'd pass by in the city that "reminded you of him" and homemade goodies.

Miguel just couldn't bring himself to understand why you put in such an effort to include him in your routine, to keep him, a man in pieces that just coincidentally was your neighbor, in your life.

As many times as you halted his vague little ramblings of "I do not deserve this, I truly don't, pequeño panadero," he had this mentality rammed within his brain that he just couldn't shake. Something that made no sense because he just couldn't open up to you.

After a bad run-in with a lowly villain, Miguel groaned every time his form landed on another building to climb. His features threatened to frown at his awareness, the absurdity of it all. Here he was, digging talons into metal beams to scale skyscrapers with another set of nasty scratches and bloodied knuckles. What the fuck? Tonterías.

Miguel was having such difficulty coming to terms with his new lifestyle as he pushed himself to continue without a break, the only bits and pieces of clarity was with you.

Everytime you two met, you always had some sort of sweet or delicious tray of food that could might as well be a contestant for a national baking competition. He would tell himself not to eat it, it would be dumb to open that door of craving more, but Miguel always caved as the scent of freshness wafted throughout his apartment in the hours he was alone.

He fell in love with every sugary cookie you conjured with care, and every noodle dish that slowly shifted to recipes he's never heard of.

Why were you doing such things? Miguel would ask himself with a palm dragging over his face, earbuds softly echoing that playlist he can't seem to escape. He was a monster, a tailored man overcome by science. He hated who he became against his will, drowning out such vile insecurities with the nights of being Spiderman 2099.

Muttering under his breath, he swung through the balcony of his apartment with a soft thud, ripping the mask off his face with a relieved sigh.

Miguel felt so disconnected to himself, when he heard a muffled "Miggy..?" reach his ears his blood ran cold and every one of his senses was on fire. He froze, looking around at the home he found himself in– a bit cosier than his one and filled with the most enticing scents. He saw white for just a moment, his legs dead with anxiety as your voice– less groggy and more aware now– continued to try and catch his attention.

This was not his bedroom, which was empty for the most part except essentials, this was your bedroom. And the realization smashing his brain, rattled him to an extent that he felt a whole new kind of fear. Nothing he's ever experienced out in the city, under the guise that he was simply just a superhero. No one truly knew he was a genetically engineered monster, and yet he was so mindless that the truth is now revealed to the one person who put up with him.

Your light graze met his suited shoulder, leading him to sit down on the edge of your bed in his daze. You were silent, he knew that much despite feeling as if he was drowning underwater.

You went to work on patching up the blemishes upon his jaw, most likely a right hook he couldn't dodge in time causing the damage. His attention was in a whole different dimension, but as your free hand led his chin up to your own eyes, an expression you've never seen from his cold exterior crushed every piece of your soul. Miguel was in pain, both physically and mentally.

His eye, which was just finally healing from the other night, twitched ever so slightly as if tears threatened to fall. You never knew he would be so emotional, but obviously there was more to him that meets the eye.

"Why are you doing this, ángel?" He mumbled, scarlet gaze piercing your own. They were hazy, as if he was struggling to stay in the present. He was too caught up in his own mind he began rambling little by little, venom dripping from his tongue when referencing himself. "Soy el diablo reencarnado, I'm a disgusting animal." He spat with tears falling, your gentle fingertips working on both dabbing ointment and his tears away without a word. When the atmosphere was only silence, he couldn't help but express more of what he was thinking.

"I am not what you think I am." He choked down a gasp of air, his hold digging into your sides in desperation. "I don't deserve this kindness, I'm vile. A freak," Tone rough and full of self-depreciation, he kept his head fixated towards you standing between his legs. "All these gifts, delicacies that you've flooded my home with– you've given them away to an absolute freak. Una bestia repugnante. You carded your fingers through his tousled, dampened with sweat curls with a soft smile which almost sent Miguel downward into another spiral of doubt if you hadn't begun talking.

As he subconsciously leaned into your loving pets upon his scalp and fluttering eyes, you couldn't help but utter a nervous laugh with a twisted feeling in your gut.

"Miguel, you stupid, stupid man." You couldn't help but coo, as his eyes peeled open in an instant. But you continued before he could sputter more nonsense.

"I–" You squeezed your eyes shut as nervousness almost halted your advancements, but you pushed through as Miguel's grasp around your hips tightened in his own anticipation. "I've never viewed you as someone disgusting."

"Because you've never been exposed to the truth–"

"Because I just see a man who needs help. A space to feel safe." You sighed, leaning down to his level as your hands trailed from his curls to his cheeks. You held onto his skin with a firm, but loving touch that he practically melted into. A sob erupted through his throat, followed with a purr of comfort.

"You don't think I'm asqueroso? ¿Un error de un hombre?" He murmured, desperation in his voice. Pleading for your validation as if he's waited all his life for this.

You sighed for the millionth time that night, trying to relieve yourself of stress. Before you could stop yourself, Miguel was pulled into your embrace, his head meeting your chest. He snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around your waist without a second thought. Nails tracing shapes through your thin shirt, he breathed in deeply. He basked in the comfort of your smell, choking up at the acceptance he's finally been craving.

Miguel's grown quite attached to you throughout the weeks of your favors as much as he tried to deny the advancements in secret. His head buzzed with the idea of you when his thoughts grew too overwhelming in the dead of night, wishing to hear the melody of your voice that is his only medicine to calm down.

The next words that tumbled from your exasperated lips shocked the both of you.

"I love you."

He almost broke his neck trying to meet your gaze. "¿Qué estás diciendo?" He laughed stiffly, not believing his ears.

You repeat yourself, force beneath your words to try and drill it into his head. "Miguel, I know this is cliche and stupid and unbelievable–"

You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself to remain level-headed. You wouldn't know what to do if the man you've pined for rejected you.

"I give you my favorite cookies because I keep you in my mind while making them, wishing you were right next to me while I bake." You confessed, cheeks growing hot at finally saying the thought aloud.

"I don't give you lunch everyday because I have some leftover. I do it because I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself enough." You began wiping away his tears as your confessions filled the night air, words he never expected to hear because of who he came to be.

"I do all these things because I'm," You leaned in, bringing your voice to a whisper in fear of getting rejected. "I'm in love with all of you, whether it be the little rambles you find yourself in or the fangs you try to hide from other's eyes. You have consumed my every thought, the favors I did because I was worried turned into favors I wanted to do because of the way your lips quirked up as you held onto the gifts like a lifeline."

Miguel laughed, a real airy laugh that squeezed through his teeth like it pained him. The warmth of his breath fanned your lips as you held his face, and as his tearful gaze darted to your mouth and back to your eyes, you knew exactly what left his tongue next.

"Please.. please can I kiss you, cariño?" It was like a ticking time bomb.

You couldn't even cry out, "yes, please– anything–" before his lips were on yours, heated and sloppy as if he's been thinking about this for weeks. His fingers slipped under your shirt, to knead into the flesh of your sides, dangerously close to the mounds of flesh he rested upon before.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, which he eagerly swallowed before wincing as a shock of pain shot through his jaw.

You immediately separated from his lips, a string of saliva left in its wake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you strain yourself–" you began to apologize, before he snatched your face up with frantic carefulness and stole another needy kiss.

This time, the pace was slower, less wild and more sensual. He panted into your mouth, licking into it before finally separating on his own terms before dragging his fangs down your lower lip.

Miguel sighed, forehead resting upon yours as the both of you tried to catch your breath. "Gracias mi ángel. Thank you for showing me, for showing me what I needed."

You nodded, eyes fluttering close in newfound sleepiness. "Stay the night, please." You couldn't help but ask, and Miguel took the offer the moment it escaped your thoughts.

"Let me go get a change of clothes–" He gestured at the suit he was still wearing, "and I'll be back before you know it, cariño."

Laughing and giving him one last peck, you sent him off on his way. "If you don't come back, you're going to be missing out on some homemade pancakes in the morning." You teased, pride swelling when you caught his soft flustered chuckle.

"I would never miss such an offer for the world." Was the last thing Miguel purred before tugging his mask on in one swoop and jumping from your balcony.

The last thing you remember as sleep began to take over was the divet next to you in the bundle of blankets and sheets; a pair of marred arms pulling you into a warm chest. Breath fanning your ear, Miguel's own sleepy whisper lulled you to sleep.

"I love you more." He murmured, "absolutely adore you cariño."

#miguel o'hara #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara comfort #x gender neutral reader #x comfort #comfort #x reader #angst #miguel o'hara angst

1K notes · View notes

punkshort · 11 months ago

Text

look what we've become - ch.6

Chapter Summary: You arrive at Ellie's family's house, but it's not what you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, mentions of child abuse (not SA), mentions of slavery, angst

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie was quiet the next morning, picking slowly at her granola bar and bent over, staring at her book. It was the day you expected to arrive at her aunt and uncle's house, and you had a hunch she was feeling bittersweet about it. When you woke up, you had a pit in your stomach that you assumed had something to the conversation you had with Joel the night before, but as the morning wore on, you realized there was a different reason. You weren't ready to let Ellie go.

"Hey," you said, nudging her knee so she would look up. "You excited to see your family?"

"I guess," she said with a shrug. Joel appeared to only be half listening as he nursed his coffee across from you.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see you," you replied. "They probably don't even know you're alive. You said you were taken from their house, right?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "After my parents died, they took me in. I can't really remember much, but I know it was nighttime and I had a bag over my head, but I don't remember them breaking into the house, I must've been asleep."

"And it was the Fireflies who took you?" you asked.

"I'm not sure. It wasn't Marlene's group, if it was. There was more of us, they kept us all in this gross basement or something. No one could tell where we were, and whenever they moved us, they had the bags over our heads."

"Jesus," Joel muttered to himself with a shake of his head.

"How do you know it wasn't Marlene?" you asked gently, curious to learn more, but worried about upsetting her.

"Because after a few months, they took me and a couple others to Marlene's camp. She never made us wear the bags," Ellie explained.

"They hurt you?" Joel asked. His eyebrows were pinched as if he were bracing himself.

"A little," she admitted quietly. Your gaze dropped down to your hands, trying not to show her the emotion on your face. "They'd hit us if we weren't working fast enough, or trip us just for fun, I guess."

"I'm so sorry, Ellie," you whispered, reaching out a hand to place on her knee.

You exchanged a pained look with Joel before dropping the subject. At least she was going back home. She might not be excited yet, but you were willing to bet she would be once she saw her family again.

"We're doing the right thing," you murmured to him when you were out of earshot as Ellie packed up her belongings. "I know you weren't on board with this at first, but we're giving her a chance at a decent life."

"Second we get back I'm tellin' Tommy we are cuttin' all ties with these people," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care what they got to offer."

You nodded, feeling the anger rolling off of him as he aggressively folded up his sleeping bag. You grabbed your pack and kicked dirt over what little fire remained, snuffing out the embers before reviewing the map once more.

Thankfully, her family didn't live within the city itself. Cities were heavily populated, which meant more risk of infected, soldiers, or hostile people. You tended to avoid them at all costs. They lived in a small town outside of the city called Morristown, which didn't have much outside of a post office, a school, and a fire department. The residential homes were built far apart from each other, scattered and disorganized. You got the feeling that people who used to live in this town knew everyone's business, it was so tiny. And you also had the feeling these were the types of people that shot first and asked questions later, given the extent it appeared they went for privacy.

"That's my school!" Ellie said excitedly, pointing down the street. Joel was focused on the map, trying to find the way to Spirit Drive, but you twisted your head so you could see the building she pointed out in the distance.

"That's cool, Ellie," you said warmly, happy to see she finally had a small smile on her face. "What was your favorite subject?"

She went on to tell you about her art class and a teacher she adored, and all the while you stared at her, listening to her stories while your heart ached. You imagined her in that school, with her friends, playing sports, eating lunch, and something inside you burned. It almost felt like jealousy, but that didn't make sense. It was a feeling you couldn't put your finger on, but you thought you knew what it was when you turned down her street, swallowing the lump in your throat when the realization set in that you were minutes away from never seeing her again.

"This the place?" Joel asked Ellie, squinting his eyes between her and the map. The house didn't look like much. It was a small, brick ranch with a long, gravel driveway that led up to a dilapidated grey barn. The hinges on the storm door to the front house were originally black, but now orange with rust. White paint chipped from the door in long strips, and the front garden was long abandoned and overgrown.

"Yeah," she said, looking at the barn.

"Do you think they're still here?" you asked, a flicker of hope igniting in you. Maybe if they weren't here, you could convince Joel to take her back to Jackson.

"Oh, yeah. They're here," she said confidently. You both glanced down at her.

"How're you so sure?" Joel asked, and she tilted her chin up towards the corner of the house. You both followed her gaze, noticing the cameras for the first time. They were small, it was no wonder you missed them, but they were there and definitely working. You could see a little red light flashing in the lens when the camera swooped across the lawn and over the driveway, where you all stood.

Joel slowly flicked his eyes around the house, counting at least seven cameras that he could see from his position. Then his gaze traveled to the barn, where he thought he could make out at least five more.

"How in the hell did you get taken from this place with all these cameras?" he asked. She didn't reply, and he wasn't really expecting an answer.

"So, what do we do?" you asked Joel quietly. "Do we just go up and knock?"

Joel twisted around to glance at Ellie, but she wasn't paying attention. She fidgeted her fingers inside her long sleeves as she stared out across the wide open dusty, dirty land the house was built on.

"I'll go up and knock, you two stay back," he decided, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck before venturing further down the driveway. The sun was blazing, even more so in the desert with little to no shade. You couldn't imagine how uncomfortable Ellie must have been in her long sleeves.

"That's far enough!" a man's voice rang out. Joel stopped dead in his tracks, whipping his head around to try to locate the source. Then he saw movement. An older man with a scraggly grey beard and balding head emerged from the barn, aiming a rifle right at Joel. He held his hands up in the air, showing from a distance that he meant no harm.

"Is that your uncle?" you whispered, holding your hands up as well.

"Yeah, that's Uncle Dave," she said, but she seemed unbothered by the threat. In fact, she shoved her hands in her pockets as she waited for him to approach.

"We aren't lookin' for trouble," Joel called out as Dave slowly made his way closer, his eyes transfixed on Joel. "We're here-"

"Toss your weapons on the ground!" Dave ordered, readjusting his grip on his rifle.

"Okay," Joel said, nodding, and slowly reached around to pluck the handgun from the back of his pants with two fingers. He held it up and gently tossed it on the ground in front of him.

"You too, missy," Dave said without even looking at you. You followed suit, slowly removing your gun and tossing it on the ground at your side. When you were no longer armed, Dave relaxed a bit, letting his shoulder drop but still aiming the rifle at Joel's chest. He finally allowed his gaze to drift behind Joel, looking briefly at you before his eyes landed on Ellie. He hesitated and swallowed roughly before forcing out a harsh chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Junebug! Get out here, you ain't never gonna believe this!"

A rounder woman with glasses and tight curly blonde hair emerged from the barn behind Dave, a scowl painting her features as she walked forward, aiming a revolver at Joel. When she looked over and noticed Ellie, her expression changed. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she let her gun fall to her side.

"Ellie!" the woman cried out, trotting clumsily down the driveway towards you. You looked down at Ellie, expecting her to finally show some excitement, but she only offered them a pained smile.

"Hiya, Aunt June," Ellie said before being enveloped in a huge bear hug.

"Oh, my sweet girl! I thought I would never see you again," June said with tears in her eyes. Dave watched the two reunite from his position in front of Joel, the rifle now slung over his shoulder.

Ellie stepped back and introduced you and Joel to her family. She explained you were helping her and keeping her safe, and the two adults began to warm up to you after that.

"Please, why don't you stay the night?" June offered. "We'll make you dinner and give you a warm bed, it's the least we could do." Ellie turned to you and nodded, a genuine smile finally spreading across her face.

You felt Joel hesitate next to you, but you quickly accepted her offer, not ready to leave Ellie just yet. He gave you a sideways glance before giving June and Dave a tight smile and followed them into the house, only after picking up your weapons from the ground.

The inside of the house matched the outside. It was well lived in and dated, but it was clean. You glanced around the living room, noticing there didn't seem to be any family pictures around, just landscape art and a clock on the wall.

June gave you a brief tour of the small house and showed you their spare bedroom, where you and Joel left your backpacks.

"Why don't you help me in the kitchen, dear, and leave the men to their own devices," June said, her pink cheeks pinching into a smile. You looked at Joel, trying to read his expression. He gave you a quick nod, confirming he was comfortable with being separated, and you returned her smile.

"That sounds great," you told her.

Dave led Joel down into the basement, explaining along the way that he would be 'blown away' by his set up down there. Ellie had mentioned they were preppers, and based on the cameras, you had to assume the basement was remodeled to be a safe room or a bunker.

You helped June chop up vegetables while she kneaded dough to make chicken pot pie. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a home cooked meal.

"We've been traveling for over a week, eating mostly trail mix and rabbit. This will be wonderful, thank you so much," you told her.

"Of course, dear. It's no trouble at all. Ellie!" June called out. Ellie came around the corner, her sketch pad hanging limply at her side.

"C'mon, girl, you forget how to help out around here?" June asked, her brows furrowed for a moment before she realized how harsh she sounded. She turned to you and laughed, her features relaxed again. "Kids, you know?"

You smiled and looked back at Ellie to gauge her reaction. She seemed quiet and closed off, but you brushed it off, chalking it up to the long day.

June held out a butcher knife to her, and Ellie hesitated, her eyes flicking from her aunt to the knife.

"Auntie, please don't make me," she said, eyes wide.

"You know the rules, don't tell me you forgot now," she replied lowly. Ellie reached out a shaky hand to pick up the knife.

"What is this?" you asked, putting your hand out to stop her.

"Well, we need chicken for the chicken pot pie, don't we now?" June said sweetly, and you were beginning to feel like that ruddy smile of hers was a little fake.

"I'll do it," you said, stepping in front of Ellie, hand outstretched for the knife.

"Now, I appreciate the offer, dear, but Ellie understands it's part of her chores, right?" she said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. She nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the floor.

"She can chop the vegetables and I'll take care of the chicken," you told her, your tone becoming more insistent.

June's watery eyes wavered between you and Ellie as she weighed her options. You glanced down at the butcher knife in her red, flour covered hands, then looked back at her.

"I insist," you said darkly, dropping the fake pleasantries. June's gaze dragged up to remain locked on you.

"Girl's gotta learn to be comfortable with killing," she replied, but you reached out and snatched the knife from her grip before she had a chance to blink.

"That's alright, I could use some practice, myself," you told her, refusing to break eye contact.

The tension in the room was thick, even Ellie was shifting her weight, trying to make herself as small as possible. You waited for June to try to argue with you again or say something to Ellie that didn't sit right, but it never came. As if storm clouds passed, her eyes cleared up and she blinked at you, a smile spreading across her flushed cheeks.

"Well, then," she said, dusting her hands on her apron. "Coop's out back. Suppose we should thank our guest, right Ellie?" June said, raising an eyebrow at the girl. Ellie nodded and looked up at you.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"No problem, kid," you muttered, giving June one last glance before heading out the back door.

"This here's an AK-47, got maybe six of these fuckers," Dave said, his fingertips grazing the weapon on the wall as he passed. "Just about anything you can think of, I probably got two of 'em."

For someone who hoarded weapons in an underground bunker, Joel would have thought the man would be a little more subtle. A little less eager to show a complete stranger his entire stash. But then again, men like Dave loved to show off. If they couldn't boast about it, then what was the point?

"Real nice set up you got here," Joel murmured, knowing the man was waiting for a compliment. Dave's chest puffed with pride before he opened a sliding door in the back of the basement, revealing a small room filled with different sized monitors, cameras all cycling through the different angles he had covering his property. Joel was wrong: he had way more than just the cameras he saw. They rotated to different views all around the outside of the house. He noticed the only cameras that were monitoring indoors were in the barn where he saw an old John Deere tractor and a pickup truck flash on the screen.

"Jesus," Joel whispered, taking a step forward, but still not entering the small room. "How the hell you manage to watch these all the time?"

"Ah," Dave said proudly, tapping his finger against his temple. "I got motion alerts. Sends out an alarm when I'm sleeping or taking a shit or whatever. Gets annoying, though. Mostly just birds or other animals, so I turn it off during the day. But sometimes... sometimes I get something good."

"Like us?" Joel said, and Dave laughed.

"Yeah... yep, exactly like you," he replied, trailing off as he stared at Joel.

"Y'know," Dave said after a moment, stepping back to shut the door. "There's folks around here who pay good money for things, if you're ever in the market to buy or sell."

"We don't got much, but we're doin' just fine," Joel said, beginning to feel uneasy.

"Nah, see, that's where you're wrong, friend," Dave replied, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing one to Joel. "You do got somethin'."

Joel held the glass tightly, bringing it up to his lips and pretending to take a sip before setting it down. Something told him he should keep his wits about him. He raised his eyebrows at Dave, waiting for him to continue.

"That girl with you up there," he began, and Joel felt his stomach twist at the mention of you. "She would fetch you a fair price with the folks I know."

Joel froze, doing his damndest to not let his emotions show. The pieces were starting to click. He clenched his jaw and swallowed lightly before taking a deep breath.

"That right?" he replied, urging him to continue. He needed to get back upstairs, for the first time realizing you all might be in danger.

"Hell yeah. Medicine, food, weapons. I'm sure of it," he said with a click of his tongue. "I make one radio call and they could be here in two days."

"Hm," Joel replied, clenching his fists behind his back. "Lemme think on it, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," he said with a wave. "Don't think too long, though. One day, someone'll take her. It's just a matter of if you get to benefit from it or not, you get me?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Yeah," Joel said. "I get you."

Joel decided you weren't leaving his sight. He was relieved when June called down, letting them know dinner was ready, so he could make sure you were okay without making an excuse to leave and raise suspicion. A man like Dave with a whole arsenal at his disposal wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with. He had to be careful.

A cynical part of him wondered if he should be worried about the food, but he knew you helped prepare it. You were smart, you would have noticed if something was going on.

But when he climbed the stairs and locked eyes with you, he knew something was wrong. You didn't show it, but he could tell by the way your smile didn't reach your eyes.

He settled down at the table as you and June scooped out the meal on everyone's your plates while Ellie silently brought everyone glasses of water. When she set Joel's down, he tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn't look at him.

"Ellie, why don't you get Joel 'n me whiskies. You ladies want anything stronger?" Dave asked, tucking his napkin into his shirt. You shook your head and politely declined as you took your seat next to Joel, your knee purposely knocking against his under the table. He glanced at you, your lips pressed in a thin line as you looked down at your food, not wanting to raise suspicion but desperately wanting to warn him that these people seemed off.

"You know, I've been meaning to try that margarita mix we traded for last week," June said thoughtfully. "Ellie, let me show you how to make it." June waddled out of the kitchen and into the living room, behind Ellie. You heard their voices carrying over faintly as June instructed her how to make her drink.

"This looks great, honey. What's in it?" Joel asked, turning and giving you a pointed look. Honey. He never called you that. It got your attention, and you gave him a quick, curious look before you understood his underlying question. Is this safe to eat? Your gaze drifted back to Dave, who was watching the two of you talk.

"Just normal stuff," you told him. "Nothing special. Veggies, chicken."

His eyes bored into yours, trying to communicate silently with you. You figured it out. Something happened in the basement that worried him, the same way June's behavior worried you.

"Alright, let's dig in!" June said cheerily, entering the kitchen with a yellow drink in her hand. Ellie followed dutifully behind with two glasses of whiskey, placing them in front of the men before sitting across from you.

"This is great, Junebug," Dave told his wife after a few forkfuls. June smiled as she sipped from her glass. You and Joel choked down the meal, offering your compliments and thanks once again, while Ellie silently pushed her food around her plate.

"Not a whiskey man, Joel?" Dave asked, his eyes growing glassy from the drink he had in the basement and now his second one.

"It's just been a long journey," Joel explained, but took a small sip anyway. "Feelin' real tired, is all."

Ellie glanced up and looked at Joel, knowing full well he wasn't tired. In the short time she knew him, it was like pulling teeth to admit he was tired. She looked back and forth between him and you, trying to read your faces without being obvious.

"Quit playing with your food," June told her harshly, finishing up her margarita. "You should be so lucky to have a roof over your head and food in your belly."

Joel stiffened next to you but didn't look up from his plate, his mind racing, trying to formulate a plan.

"You know what? That drink looked good," you said suddenly. "Ellie, why don't you show me if you remember how to make it?" You stood up from the table and Ellie jumped to her feet to follow you.

"Bring me another, too," June barked as Ellie followed you around the corner to the bar cart in the living room.

"What the hell is going on here, Ellie?" you muttered quietly, picking up the margarita mixer and pouring it into a glass.

"It's how they always are," she whispered. "They aren't exactly good with kids, but it's fine."

"No, it's not fine," you whispered back, holding your hand out to keep her from pouring tequila in your glass, choosing to just drink the mixer, not wanting alcohol to dull your senses. You nudged her hand to make her pour a little extra tequila in her aunt's glass. "This isn't how you should be living."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked sharply before turning on her heel and heading back into the kitchen. You trailed after her, finding your seat next to Joel and taking a sip of the fake drink and trying to ignore the guilt. You had no idea how you were going to be able to leave her behind with these people.

You helped June clean up the dishes after dinner while the men filed into the living room. Joel had drank his first glass, but held up his hand when Dave offered a second, rubbing his eyes and reminding him how tired he felt. He needed to get you alone and get you the hell out of here, paranoid that Dave would call those people to do a "trade" for you like he was already suspecting happened originally with Ellie. What else would explain kidnappers being able to bypass his security system?

As if reading his mind, Dave asked "Think any more about what I told you downstairs?"

Joel yawned, trying to hide his anger by contorting his face.

"Lemme sleep on it, get back to you in the mornin', I'm beat," he said, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick. If he was, Dave didn't seem to notice, the whiskey doing its job by keeping him oblivious.

"Alright now, Ellie. Time to get ready for bed," June said, her drink sloshing in her glass. "Say goodbye and thank you to your friends."

You could see the despair in Ellie's face. Trying hard not to cry, you wrapped her in a hug and whispered it will be okay in her ear before pulling back, swallowing hard. She was about to reach for her sketch pad when, much to your surprise, Joel suddenly leaned down and pulled her into a hug. Ellie also looked shocked, not sure what to do at first but eventually brought her arms up around his ribs. You thought you could see him whisper something in her ear, but it happened so fast, you weren't sure.

"Okay, off you go," June told her, and Ellie quickly walked down the hall without another word. You watched her go, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You sat next to Joel, trying to appear interested in what her aunt and uncle were talking about, but you realized it didn't matter the more they drank. Joel's hand dropped on the couch next to you, grasping your hand and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. You looked up at him sadly as he tried to wordlessly say it's okay, I'll get us out of this.

After another hour, Dave stood to tend to the fire, stumbling in the process. June chuckled, her face redder than usual.

"Time for bed, old man," she teased, and he grunted in response, pushing a log around with the poker before straightening back up.

"Suppose you're right, Junebug," he replied. You could hear the alcohol in his voice, the way he spoke slightly louder and slower than usual.

"You two need anything, you just holler," June said, pushing herself off the couch. "Clean sheets are in the closet."

You and Joel stood, watching as they made their way slowly down the hall to their bedroom, June mumbling to Dave until their door quietly clicked shut.

You immediately swiveled around to Joel but he clamped a hand over your mouth, shaking his head. You nodded and he removed his hand, leading you down the other end of the hall to the guest room, and shut the door.

"Joel-"

He held his finger to his lips before he made his way around the room, checking the furniture and closet for any possible hidden cameras or bugs. When he was satisfied, he finally spoke.

"Don't get comfortable. When they fall asleep, we're leavin'," he whispered.

"We can't leave her here," you said, sweeping your arm towards the door.

"I know," he said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "They'll sell her off again the first chance they get."

"Wait, what?" you asked, eyes wide. "I thought someone snatched her?"

"I really fuckin' doubt it," Joel said, running his fingers through his hair. "When we were in the basement, that asshole was tryin' to convince me to sell you to slavers. Said if I don't do it, somebody'll take and sell you anyway. Sounded awful lot like a threat, if you ask me."

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you whispered, wrapping your arms around your ribs and pacing nervously around the room. "So you think they sold Ellie into slavery? Their own niece?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em. You should see the shit he's got in that basement. Must've cost a fortune. I'm sure Ellie wasn't the only one they sold off."

It started to make sense. The way June spoke to and treated Ellie like she was a servant didn't leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

"But they seemed so happy to see her," you said, thinking back.

"Yeah, probably saw her as another paycheck. Two for one," Joel said with a scoff.

"So what's the plan?" you asked him, biting on your fingernail anxiously.

"Give it an hour or so," he began, sitting down on the bed. "Make sure they're passed out. Then, you go get the kid, and I'll go to the basement. I gotta figure out how to turn off the motion alerts on those cameras so they don't wake up. Then we get the fuck outta here."

"Okay," you said quietly, sitting down next to him, stunned. Twenty minutes ago, you just thought they were bad guardians. You had no idea it was this bad. You buried your face in your hands, feeling guilty for bringing Ellie back into this house. You should have fought harder to get her to stay in Jackson. Now, you all ended up in danger, anyway.

"We have to try to warn Tommy and Maria," you whispered. "What if something happens? It'll take us a week to get home."

"Maybe not," Joel replied. "I saw on his cameras that they got a truck in that barn."

Joel stuck his head out into the hallway, craning his neck to listen for any movement from the master bedroom. After a few minutes of silence, he looked back at you and nodded. Quietly, you followed him down the hall, pausing outside of Ellie's room. Before you could open the door, Joel put his hand over yours. He cupped your face and quickly pressed a kiss against your lips, then pulled back to look deep into your eyes while his thumb caressed your cheek.

I'll get us out of here, I'll keep us safe.

You nodded, understanding without him having to say a word. He dropped his hand and made his way down the hall to the basement door, clicking on his flashlight before descending the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed the bedroom door open. You took care to close it gently behind you, then turned around to find Ellie fully dressed and waiting for you at the foot of her bed.

"Hey," you whispered, and she stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"I'm ready," she whispered back.

"How did you-"

"Joel told me," she said quietly. "He said to keep my bag packed, and not to fall asleep."

So he did whisper something in her ear when he hugged her.

"Okay, good," you breathed, trying to hide your nervousness.

"I packed all new clothes, and a few other things I wanted. Do you think I need anything else?"

"You have your flashlight?" you asked.

"Yep. And I got this," she said, proudly reaching into her pants pocket and pulling out a switchblade.

"Where did you get that?"

"Does it matter?" she replied.

"Just be careful with that thing, put it away," you told her. She folded it back up and shoved it into her jeans.

You poked your head out of her door, making sure the coast was clear before taking a step out. You made it two feet before Ellie's hand shot out and grabbed your arm, pulling you back into her room just in time. The master bedroom door swung open and June hobbled out in her nightgown, making her way groggily to the bathroom. You and Ellie stood with your ears pressed against the bedroom door, listening intently as the toilet flushed and the sink ran.

"Where's Joel?" Ellie mouthed.

You pointed down to the floor and mouthed back basement.

You waited until you heard her door click shut and the squeak of the boxspring before opening Ellie's door again. Silently, you made your way down the hall and to the dark kitchen, where you waited for Joel.

"What's he doing?" she said as softly as possible.

"Motion sensors," was all you said back. She shook her head.

"He won't know - I'll do it," she replied, and before you could stop her, she opened the door and made her way down the steps, turning her flashlight on in the process. You went after her as quickly and quietly as you could, knowing Joel wouldn't expect you to be down there.

You entered the bunker, taking a second to gawk at all the guns adorned on the walls. There was also an elaborate looking radio and a workbench filled with electrical parts. You passed five dressers that looked to be filled with different types of ammunition, and you thought you even saw a couple grenades.

"Joel," you whispered, and you heard him shuffle near the back of the room. You swung your flashlight towards the noise, your heart pounding in your ears. He stepped out from behind a tall shelf of canned goods, shaking his head and holstering his revolver.

"This wasn't the plan," he scolded with a deep frown, but before you could explain, Ellie pushed past you both and made her way to the little room in the back that housed all of the security system equipment.

"Ellie!" Joel whispered, going after her.

"I know what I'm doing," she said over her shoulder. He glanced back at you and you shrugged.

"There, the alarm is turned off and so is the recording," she said, emerging from the room. Joel gave her a confused look.

"Recording?" you repeated.

"Yeah, the cameras record everything. So they won't know what direction we go when they wake up tomorrow and try to review the footage," she explained, looking at you like it was obvious before heading to the stairs.

"Did you know-" you began to ask, but Joel cut you off.

"Hey, wait," he whispered, making Ellie stop on the bottom step. He unscrewed the cap of whiskey Dave had shared with him earlier and poured it all over the radio, watching as it sparked a bit. And for good measure, he cut the wire that powered the device before making his way toward the stairs, pushing past Ellie to lead you both out of the house.

Joel led you to the barn, maneuvering on the soft grass instead of the noisy gravel. There was a standard padlock on the door, which he was able to break relatively easily with his hunting knife. He was beginning to realize Ellie's aunt and uncle had all the appearances of being survivalists, but lacked most of the skills. He had lost count of the things he would have done differently if he was defending his own home.

Still, he didn't want to wake them when he was so close to safety. So, he put the truck in neutral and had Ellie steer from the driver's seat while the two of you pushed the car down the long driveway, waiting until it reached the road before making Ellie move to the back and starting it up.

He drove for a few hours until you were both struggling to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline that was previously fueling you both long since worn off.

"Let's pull off here, maybe we can find some gas before we head out in the mornin'," Joel said softly, trying not to wake Ellie.

"Okay," you said quietly, staring out the window as he got off the interstate. He drove for another half hour until he found a volunteer fire hall.

There were a few abandoned cars in the large lot when you pulled in. Joel parked the truck and turned to you.

"Lemme go in and check it out, you stay with the kid," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I'll come with you," you said, but he held out his hand.

"Stay," he repeated firmly, and you shook your head.

"What if-"

"Just do as your told for once," he snapped. You clamped your mouth shut, too tired to argue. He was clearly annoyed that you improvised back at the house and brought Ellie in the basement.

"Fine," you seethed, and he slid out of the truck. You watched with your arms crossed as he approached the door, shining his flashlight inside the window before working on the lock and pushing his way in. You could see the beam of his flashlight through the windows as he moved from room to room, carefully checking out each one before finally coming back out to let you know it was clear.

"Ellie," you whispered, nudging her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up with a yawn, turning around to try to figure out where you were.

"We're gonna stay here for the rest of the night and try to get some sleep before hitting the road tomorrow," you explained as you hopped out of the truck.

She silently followed you into the building, where Joel was waiting, holding the door open. He led you both up the stairs where the firefighters had a small living space with bunk beds. Ellie snagged the first one she saw, curling up with the blanket that was already draped over the bed and falling back asleep.

"You good?" Joel asked, looking over as you flopped down on one of the beds.

"Yeah, are you?" you replied. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Long fuckin' day," he murmured.

"Why don't I keep watch tonight and you get some rest, I'll sleep in the car tomorrow," you told him. You could tell he wanted to argue with you but his exhaustion won.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed after a moment.

You stood back up, checking your gun before heading back downstairs. After you peeked out the windows to confirm everything was all quiet, you wandered around the first floor a bit. It looked like after the outbreak, the building may have acted as a safe zone. There were abandoned bags, cots, blankets, and trash overflowing in the bins.

You were looking through some duffel bags for anything useful when you heard a noise outside. You froze, quickly pulling your gun from the back of your jeans as you made your way cautiously out into the room. At first glance, your flashlight didn't show anything out of the ordinary. You were about to give up when you heard the same noise again. Whipping to your left, you advanced towards the sound with your gun drawn.

The last thing you remember is a hand gripping your throat from behind and a needle slipping into your neck.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarap-77 @sarahhxx03

284 notes · View notes

vintagedebutante · 1 month ago

Text

I’ll Show You

A JFK x Reader Fanfiction- 18+

Further Info: Stern Jack, rough oral sex (RIP your jaw), shower antics, reader misbehaves (ooooh, you're in trouble) 🫣

Word Count: 1.4k+

A/N: Omg sorry it took me so long to write this, so much has happened since I wrote Power & Control! I sincerely hope you all enjoy my latest piece! 🚿 I really tried, haha!

You could barely contain your giddiness as you hurriedly ascended the White House’s Grand Staircase. Though it was a somewhat common occurrence for you, receiving a call from the President’s men requesting your company in the residential villa filled you with schoolgirlish joy.

Since beginning your job in the press office, you often attended the President’s nightly informal receptions. Each invitation felt special nonetheless-- to be requested by name out of the bevy of beautiful women Kennedy had working for him was quite an honor. Your fellow press office colleagues used his attention as social currency, it was exceptional if he shot you a smile, much less remembered your name. You shuddered at the thought of the ostracism you would face at their hands if they ever discovered your frequent presence at the gatherings. Nevertheless, you couldn’t resist the prospect of engaging in conversation with those in the inner circle, discussing current events in sentences punctuated by the gentle clinking of expensive glasses.

However, there was much more to these invitations than the opportunity to mingle with distinguished guests. Once festivities ceased at the end of the night and staff shuffled home, you were left at the mercy of the country’s most powerful man. It would often start with a touch-- his rough hand lightly grazing your cheek or the small of your back. His stormy blue-green eyes nearly peered into your soul, the corner of his mouth curled into a devilish smile. What would follow is something one could only dream of reading about in the most scandalous novels of the time. Your cheeks flushed hot as you quickened your steps, trying to keep your mind from wandering too much.

Anticipating the familiar, unique sound of Kennedy’s voice and the usual work chatter drifting from the top of the stairs, you were instead greeted by silence. No half-drunk daiquiris resting on coasters, no scent of cigar smoke, no staff enraptured by the President’s charisma. The East Sitting Hall was empty, which was jarring at this hour. You felt a slight sense of unease set in as you went to check the West Sitting Hall, checking each of the elegant hallway’s doors for any sign of activity. You were about ready to write the assistant’s call off as a cruel joke when you noticed the door to the President’s private bedroom was fully ajar, with the faint sound of running water growing louder. Puzzled, you leaned in and peered inside.

“H-Hello?” You choked, placing your hand on your chest. You felt your heart pound at a feverish pace. It was certainly not your first time in the President’s bedroom, but the prospect of being invited into such a space always made you feel special. Tentatively, you took two steps forward.

A thick cloud of steam enveloped you like a warm embrace, leaving your skin sticky with condensation. You fixed your eyes on the slick white marble floors as you desperately attempted to keep yourself from slipping. The overwhelming scent of his ritzy bergamot soap sent your already-pounding heart into a frenzy. A familiar voice instantly broke your train of thought. “Y/N, I’ve been expecting you.” You turned your head to see a stark nude President Kennedy holding the shower’s thick white curtain ajar.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” the President boasted before resuming his shower routine. You couldn’t help but giggle. You were a sucker for the President’s thick Boston accent. This unusual invitation took you aback. Despite your many sexual dalliances, the two of you had never taken a shower together. Kennedy kept much of his life private, you doubted the man had even showered with his wife. “I’ll join you in just a minute, Mr. President,” you stammered, trying your hardest to sound seductive.

As you removed your clothes, you found yourself entranced watching the steam rise from the President’s shower like a soft morning mist, swirling lazily under the high ceiling. You were careful to fold each article of your clothing to avoid unwanted wrinkles-- you didn’t want to be the target of any further gossip with the ladies in the press office, after all. You shifted your gaze back to President Kennedy’s lavish shower only to find he had watched you disrobe the entire time. “Oh, uh,” you exclaimed as a scarlet blush crept across your cheeks. He motioned for you to hurry up and join him. You forgot how impatient the President could be at times, not that you cared much.

As you stepped into the shower, you clung to Kennedy’s strong tanned arms, trying desperately not to stumble as your feet met the slick porcelain floor. Immediately, you were assaulted by the President’s choice of water temperature. You arched your back in discomfort as a steady stream of scalding-hot water trickled like lava down your chest. You audibly gasped, causing the President to chuckle.

Kennedy pulled the curtain closed absentmindedly as his eyes traveled across the curves of your lithe wet body, flushed from the heat of the shower. He had this way of making you feel special with just a glance. To have his undivided attention like this was heaven. In the real world, you were no more than a press office secretary, but, in here, you felt like the last two people left on Earth.

Excitedly, you pressed your frame against his, the President’s stiffening erection growing more noticeable by the second. Kennedy’s hands roamed along the arch of your back, lingering as he reached for your backside. Boiling hot water cascaded down your previously curled hair as the President’s mouth lowered to your right ear. “Be a good girl and get on your knees for me,” he commanded. “Anything for you, Mr. President.” You were almost embarrassed by how pathetic you sounded, but the way he smiled back offered you reassurance.

The hard porcelain floor stung your knees-- you were certain you’d end up with bruises, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All that mattered was the man standing before you, your hair clenched tightly in his massive, lightly freckled fist. You gazed up at him with stars in your eyes. From this angle, the President looked so powerful-- like a Greek marble statue come to life. You’d let the man step on you if he wanted, not just because of the position he held, but because of how badly you wanted, no, needed him. “God, you’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you,” the President chuckled.

You flashed Kennedy a coy smile before easing his throbbing cock into your mouth, trying desperately to hide the burning sensation forming at the hinges of your jaw. Your eyes watered--he was almost too big, at least at first, but, the pleasure you received from hearing the President softly cuss and groan was enough to mask the initial pain. You were almost certain that even the most experienced prostitute would struggle to accommodate him. Nevertheless, you swirled your tongue against the President’s shaft, eagerly listening for his stifled vocalizations over the sound of pouring water. A wicked idea crossed your mind. Though you were aware of the fact that Kennedy preferred to keep his trysts quick, you were overcome with curiosity to know what would happen if you were to slow things down a bit.

You slowed your movements down to a snail’s pace, paying extra attention to the tip of his cock--playing with it in a way you thought must have been agonizing. You continued this for a few seconds before you felt Kennedy’s fist tighten, causing your scalp to sear. It was clear that your teasing was beginning to annoy him--you could sense he was eager to get off even before he (rather aggressively) jerked your head forward.

You let out a muffled squeal in response. “You should know better than to tease me like that,” he groaned only half-jokingly. “I oughta teach you a lesson.” Fuck. You should have known such uncouth behavior would have landed you in trouble. Before you had time to gather your thoughts, Kennedy slammed himself into you, nearly bruising the back of your throat before moving your head back and forth at a feverish pace. In a flash, you were struggling to breathe and trying everything you could to avoid devolving into a coughing fit. You desperately attempted to relax your cramping jaw as much as you could to accommodate the President burying himself to the hilt inside you. He was enjoying the thrill of exerting his physical power over you. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t also take pleasure in the act. Your chest burned white-hot with desire. You could feel your clit throb at a feverish tempo as the President thrust deeper and deeper into your aching throat.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more of Kennedy’s punishment, his movements grew erratic--you could feel the massive, callused hand on the back of your head begin to tremble. “Oh, fuck,” the President gasped, his fingers intertwining with wet locks of hair. A sudden burst erupted into the back of your throat as his shaft pulsated vigorously against your tongue. Kennedy abruptly brought your rhythm to a halt and loosened his iron grip, allowing you to relax. A few quick coughs escaped your lips as you tried to remain composed. “Now, I better not see you misbehaving like that again,” the President quipped, shooting you a wink. You nodded obediently in response, but you knew you couldn’t make any promises.

#jfk #jfk x reader #jfk x you #john f kennedy fanfiction #I trieddd lmao

58 notes · View notes

mirandasidefics · 10 months ago

Text

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Lucien X Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan X Plus Size Reader

Chapter 3 Summary: Nesta confronts Rhysand and Azriel pays a visit to the Moonstone Palace.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Talk of nightmares, mentions of blood and violence.

A/N: Hopefully the characters aren't too OOC for this one. I'm sorry this chapter is so short! Work got a bit busy so free time for writing was reduced. But I still wanted to keep my schedule of every other week. Just means there will be more chapters in the long run. This is Azriel's POV. The story will mainly be from Reader, Lucien, and Azriel's POV moving forward.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 2

Azriel swiftly made his way to Rhysand’s office in the House of Wind for a debriefing with Cassian, Nesta, and Bryce after their return to Prythian. The group had been successful in their rescue efforts and the trio returned with Bryce’s mate and brother in tow. His shadows had told him that the two new arrivals had been beaten and bloody with healers rushing to the northern residential wing of the Moonstone Palace. He knew he should have accompanied them on their trip, especially after hearing of their losses of at least two spies as the group made their way out. If he had gone with them then he certainly wouldn’t have been forced to subject you to – He stopped short at the scene before him, at the absolute fury that radiated off the eldest Archeron sister. His shadows and siphons immediately responded to the small thrum of power emanating off of her. He smized he finally had his answer regarding the amount of power the cauldron determined she was worthy to keep after helping Feyre deliver Nyx. Nesta stood before his brother’s desk, her hands balled into fists at her sides, chest heaving. Rhysand sat in his high back chair, elbows resting against the dark wood of the desk. Only the swirling rage in his eyes giving any indication of his emotions. A large stack of books laid sprawled on the floor. Loose papers fluttered their way back down. A well of black ink had been topped over, its contents staining the already dark mahogany and the High Lord’s face. Bryce sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk, picking at her nails. Her eyes darting between the fighting in-laws.

“I don’t know what more you want me to say Nesta,” Rhys rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I have apologized to the woman and have provided for her. Lucien is keeping her company and assisting her in finding a way back to her home, but she will remain in the eastern wing for the time being.” Fuck. So, he hadn’t removed the letter Lucien left in the House before either Nesta or Cassian read it. Not that Azriel wanted to hide (Y/N)’s existence from the pair, he just wanted to explain that he agreed with the male. The human girl was of no threat, despite her highly unexpected and unsettling arrival. Given Nesta’s current disposition it appeared that she had already gone to the Moonstone Palace as Lucien requested.

“You have her sealed inside the place just like that Spring Court bastard did to Feyre,” Nesta spat, the information hitting Azriel square in the chest. The image of (Y/N)’s terror filled (e/c) eyes flashed through his mind. Had his word not been enough to convince his brother of her innocence? Yes, she was no longer swathed in the darkness, the darkness that he was solely responsible for, but to still be a prisoner… He hadn’t wanted that for her. He wanted her to feel safe. She deserved at least that much, if not more. Azriel’s attention snapped back to the conversation before him.

“She’s just a girl Rhys,” Cassian spoke up from his position between his mate and the desk. “Nes and I spent the whole day with her. She-”

“You have dedicated an entire part of your court to the protection of traumatized females,” Nesta snarled, “You have created laws to ensure those that cause harm to innocents pay for their actions. Yet you violate everything that you’ve built by having her tortured and locked away for the past month! What does she have to do to convince you that she is not a threat?” Rhysand let out a breath, despite his efforts to exude a sense of calm, it was clear that the male was exhausted.

“I honestly don’t know at this point,” The admission was one that Azriel didn’t expect, “But my decision stands.” Nesta clicked her tongue, arms crossing as she finally removed her gaze from the High Lord.

“I will not be keeping this from my sister,” Nesta seethed. Her steel infused eyes landed on Azriel and he tried not balk from the fury now directed at him. Her gait was steady as she approached, arms crossing over her chest. Despite him being a good 5 inches taller than her, Nesta managed to look down her nose at him.

“Not keep what from me?” The entire room went still as Feyre stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and brows furrowed in annoyance. Her stance mirrored her sister’s, highlighting their similarities all the more. Azriel shifted in spot next to the door, glancing at his brother who slow stood up from his desk. The tension in the air thickened as Feyre looked to each individual in the room.

“What are you keeping from me now Rhysand?” Her glare at her mate would have had any other male cowering. This was perhaps the most frightening Feyre had ever appeared to Azriel outside of that battle field nearly 3 years ago.

“We will discuss the events in Midgard later. If you all will excuse us,” Rhysand swallowed, “I have something to discuss with my High Lady.”

Azriel struggled to keep his shadows in check as they buzzed around the closed doors that did little to muffle the shouting match between the rulers of the Night Court. While the group had been dismissed, Azriel still had questions for his brother. He supposed those questions would have to wait, provided the Night Court still had a High Lord in the morning. He was grateful for the distraction when Bryce asked him to return her to the Moonstone Palace to be with her mate. It also gave him a reason to check in on (Y/N). Something he hadn’t been able to do since the day he and Lucien walked her out of the catacombs. He knew that keeping his distance would be best for her, but he couldn’t help the worry that invaded him on a nightly basis. That week had not been kind to either of them. It had been a long time since he experienced nightmares as a result of his…duties as spymaster. A long time since the tang of a person’s fear embedded itself in his memory. Maybe actually seeing her in a new setting would help ease his conscious.

He winnowed Bryce directly into the suite that had been set up for her and her family. A fire roared in the large black onyx hearth of the large sitting area. The set of doors to each of the two bedrooms were wide open, allowing the healers to run back and forth between them. It appeared they were in the process of packing up their things, when one approached him.

“Both males are asleep,” the elder female whispered, “The mate is in that room. He’ll need the most care for the next few weeks as his wings begin to grow back. The other might need to have healers from the Dawn Court take a better look at him, the High Lord too. There’s a heavy barrier around his mind.” He nodded and relayed the message to Bryce.

“Thank you,” The red-head squeezed his shoulder before dipping into the room on the left. Azriel awkwardly stood in the hallow space. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had never spent any significant amount of time in the Moonstone Palace and the morning was a long way off. He had a general idea of where the unoccupied spare rooms were, but he wasn’t tired. He debated on making his way to the gardens when a wailing scream ripped through the halls. The sound caused Azriel’s heart to drop. The elder healer scurried over to the doorway of the room on the right, calling out to whomever was inside.

“Wren, the tonic, is it ready for her?” Her. (Y/N) had made that sound. Nausea whirled in his stomach. A young male appeared in the doorway with two medium sized cups in his hands.

“I’ll take it,” Azriel’s shaky voice passed over his lips before he could stop himself.

“Its for the human girl,” Wren gathered a funnel and metal flask from a corner table in the main sitting room. Slowly he poured the contents of each cup into a metal flask. “The male that’s with her says she suffers from nightmares. He asked us to mix this for her. It’s a concentrated brew, so it must be diluted with water or tea, preferably a sweetened tea as its quite bitter. No more than an ounce before bed.” The male grabbed a second smaller cup and placed it into Azriel’s covered hands. He nodded in understanding, his shadows already racing to find her. Another scream echoed, the terror laced within latching onto his bones. He had caused these nightmares. He knew he would never be able to atone for the trauma that she would now carry with her. Something in his chest snagged as yet another cry ricocheted through the palace. His shadows returned and swirled, urging him out of the room. A male groan came from the room Wren had exited and he quick scurried back inside.

“Hurry, before her screams wake them,” Azriel’s lips curled into a snarl at the insensitive remark as he was ushered out of the room. “They all deserve some rest Shadowsinger.” The female healer amended, the entrance door to the suite clicking shut behind him. He made his way as quickly as he could to her room. His shadows frantic as muffled sobs could be heard bouncing off the stone walls of the eastern wing. He didn’t even bother to knock on the door before entering the bedroom. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

The bed was disheveled, the cream duvet pushed to the ground alongside several throw pillows in various shades of blue. Lucien was sat in the center of the bed, (Y/N) cradled in his lap. Azriel watched on as Lucien rocked her back and forth, shushing her and rubbing her bare back. The green top, clearly torn and discarded on the floor, was stained dark with sweat and…blood. Sobs and muffled apologies tumbled from her lips and into the golden skin of Lucien’s neck. Her hair, slickened with tears, plastered itself to her forehead. Her trembling hands held a vice like grip, her knuckles white from the force of her hold on him. The tips of her fingernails were stained red. Azriel’s eyes roamed over her for any signs of injuries. He wasn’t able to assess her front as she pressed against the male comforting her. It took him second to realize that the Autumn male’s shirt was also missing, and something ugly curled its way through Azriel’s thoughts. That was until he saw the upturned couch, and what was clearly spare blankets and pillows pinned underneath. Likely overturned in Lucien’s haste to get to (Y/N). It took him another second to realize that the room was sweltering. Every light in the room was on and the fire in the fireplace was twice the size it should have been, leaving no space for his shadows.

“Are you just going to lurk there?” The female started at Lucien’s words, letting out a whimper and he immediately consoled her. The male’s russet eye landed on Azriel, who cautiously approached the bed. Before he could get too close, the red-head held up his hand in warning. Close enough.

“(Y/N),” Lucien whispered against her cheek, the action far too intimate for Azriel’s liking, “I asked the healers to make you another sleeping draft. Go draw yourself a bath, and I’ll get the tonic and bed prepared for you.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes as she pulled back slightly. She nodded in understanding, and her grip on him lessened. Azriel felt like an intruder as he watched her separate herself from Lucien, catching sight of the outline of her full breast underneath her arm before she fully faced away from him. The woman seemed to become aware of her bare chest and reached for a pillow to cover herself with. Azriel noted that Lucien’s eyes never strayed down wards and remained fixed on the headboard behind her. A better male that he was. Once she was out of the sight, Lucien rose from the bed and approached Azriel.

“How is she?” Azriel blurted. He wasn’t a fool. He could clearly see she wasn’t doing well, but the question fell from him nonetheless. He continued to stare at the spot she previously occupied on the bed. Lucien studied him, the golden eye whirring and zeroing in on whatever information he was trying to read in Azriel’s expression. The spymaster’s training set in and his features hardened. The emissary did the same. His shadows spluttered at the doorway as he took a step into the room.

“How is-”

“I heard you,” Lucien let out a heavy breath and carded his lean fingers along his scalp. “You want to know the extent of your handiwork? This is what I have come to know of her through my comforting her every night since arriving here. I have become more familiar with the sound of her screams than her laugh. I smell the fear that leeches out of her every pore. So potent and thick that even my own instincts have me searching the room to make sure there is no one here to harm her. Her body thrashes violently-desperately-to break the grip the nightmares have on her own mind. There are bruises on her ankles that won’t heal because she kicks against the bed posts everything night.” Azriel felt the color slowly drain from his face.

“She doesn’t always wake from the nightmares right away either. Tonight, was one of those nights. She was crying, pleading and begging whatever was haunting her to stop. She was clawing on her own throat and chest trying to pry what I can only assume were memories of your shadows away. You ask how she is doing? She is not well, and she is terrified of you Azriel.” A flame burned within his red iris despite the calm manner in which he spoke, and Azriel felt his body recoil in shame. He didn’t want to know any more. He knew this was his fault and didn’t need to be reminded.

“You want to help her?” Azriel nodded simply, not daring to speak after hearing Lucien’s tone laced with a bitterness he hadn’t heard in years. “She needs and deserves to be let out of here. Allowed to live far enough away from the Hewn City to know that she won’t be sent back down to that cell. But for now, she needs a dreamless sleep.” The Autumn male approached him slowly, his hand held out expectantly. Azriel handed over the flask and small cup.

“Mix an ounce of this with tea or water,” His own voice was barely above a whisper as Lucien continued to hold his stare. Shame and guilt clung to him. Without another word, Azriel turned on his heel and left the room, unable to bare witness to your suffering any longer.

Next: Chapter 4

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitc0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #lucien x reader #plus size reader #BHINfic #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x plus size reader #azriel x plus size reader

152 notes · View notes

allthecanadianpolitics · 11 months ago

Text

No community anywhere would willingly choose to have a nearly 30 per cent office vacancy rate in its downtown core. But faced with that problem, one Canadian city came up with a plan that is now being held up as a model for the rest of the country amid an ongoing national housing crisis. Calgary has been busily working to convert underused office towers to residential housing, thanks to the city's one-of-a-kind incentive program for developers. In just two years, the program has resulted in the approval of 13 office-to-residential conversion projects, with four more still under review.

Tagging @politicsofcanada @abpoli

#cdnpoli #canada #canadian politics #canadian news #alberta #housing #housing crisis #urban development

228 notes · View notes

workersolidarity · 7 months ago

Text

[ 📹 Scenes from the Gaza Strip, where local residents and family members say their farewells for Palestinian journalist Salem Abu Tyour and his young son. The pair were killed on Monday following an Israeli occupation airstrike targeting their residential home in the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip. At least 142 journalists have been killed by the Israeli occupation forces since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🚀🚀🏘️💥 🚨

ENDLESS BOMBINGS MARK THE 206TH DAY OF "ISRAEL'S" GENOCIDAL WAR IN GAZA

On the 206th day of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 5 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 47 Palestinians, mostly women and children, while another 61 others have been wounded over the previous 24-hours.

In a conversation with the families of Israeli hostages held by the Hamas Resistance movement in Gaza, the Israeli occupation Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, told the families that the IOF would invade Rafah regardless of any truce deals made with the Palestinian Resistance.

“The idea that we will stop the war before achieving all its aims is not an option,” the occupation's Prime Minister is quoted as saying to the families.

“We will enter Rafah and we will eliminate the Hamas battalions there — whether or not there is a deal — in order to achieve total victory.”

In a statement released by the Prime Minister's office, it is claimed that the families of the hostages urged Netanyahu, and National Security Advisor Tzachi Hanegbi, to continue the war and resist international pressure.

More than 1.7 million Palestinians are currently packed into the small southern Gazan city of Rafah, with most living in giant tent cities erected following the Israeli bombardment and invasion of the northern Gaza Strip, early in the war.

In a report published by the International humanitarian medical organization, Medicines Sans Frontières (MSF), also known as Doctor's Without Borders, the organization describes dire healthcare conditions for the civilian population now displaced and living in Rafah, warning that Palestinians face severe risk of disease outbreak due to the harsh living conditions in the city, and the systematic destruction of the Palestinian healthcare system in Gaza.

"The lives of people who fled bombardment are now at risk due to the looming threat of disease outbreaks in Rafah, where living conditions are dire, where there is a desperate shortage of clean water for drinking or bathing, and where rubbish and raw sewage accumulate in the streets," MSF warns in its report.

"People’s needs are skyrocketing and the healthcare system no longer has the capacity to respond. One by one, hospitals in Gaza are being rendered inoperable as they are attacked, damaged or destroyed by Israeli forces, or have insufficient fuel and other supplies to provide services."

MSF further warns that it is "gravely concerned" about what the devastation of the healthcare system will mean in Gaza for many years to come.

MSF goes on to point to the "few medical facilities" that still function, which are being pushed to the brink, "overwhelmed with patients with conflict-related trauma injuries."

"As a result, people with other types of medical needs, such as pregnant women with complications and people living with chronic conditions, are unable to receive the care they require."

MSF goes on to warn that "Gaza’s entire healthcare system has been decimated and the population is under siege. Without access to medical care, thousands more lives will be lost, beyond those killed in the Israeli bombardments seen in the news – these are Gaza’s 'silent killings'."

At the same time that MSF warns of the collapse of Gaza's healthcare system, the Palestinian Civil Defense of the Gaza Strip appealed to the International community to pressure the Israeli occupation to allow the entry of specialized equipment for the removal of bodies from Gaza, and to exhume those buried under collapsed buildings.

According to Gaza's Civil Defense, more than 10'000 missing Palestinians remain buried under the rubble of their homes and shelters, with crews unable to recover them due to continued Israeli destruction and the lack of specialized equipment.

They warned that this leaves Civil Defense personnel in a precarious situation in which they attempt to recover the bodies of the dead as buildings continue to collapse around them.

The Civil Defense further warned of the accumulation of thousands of bodies under the rubble, which already begins to spread disease and cause epidemics as high temperatures accelerate the rate of decomposition.

The Palestinian Civil Defense further added that working without specialized equipment would mean it could take 2 to 3 years to recover the bodies of the dead, estimating that over 37 million tonnes of rubble is strewn across the Gaza Strip.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation's bombardment across Gaza continued unabated, and further intensified over the last several days, with Israeli airstrikes pummeling the southern and central Gaza Strip, while bombings also continued in the north.

In one of the latest Zionist atrocities, IOF warplanes bombed a residential building belonging to the Al-Afifi family, in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah City, in the south of Gaza, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinian women, all sisters.

Occupation airstrikes also targeted agricultural lands west of Rafah, luckily without any casualties, while Israeli occupation gunboats continued shelling Rafah's western coastline.

Also in the south of Gaza, local Civil Defense crews said they'd recovered the bodies of 6 Palestinian victims of Israeli occupation bombings from buildings in the Al-Amal neighborhood, west of Khan Yunis.

Later in the day, occupation bombing targeted the Ma'an neighborhood of the same city.

Elsewhere, Israeli fighter jets bombarded a civilian home belonging to the Akhil family, in the Al-Daraj neighborhood of Gaza City, in the north of the Palestinian enclave, killing the family's grandfather along with his grandson.

The Zionist atrocities continued when an IOF aircraft bombed another residential home on Al-Sikka Street, east of the Jabalia Refugee Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, resulting in a number of casualties.

The Israeli occupation continued its war crimes with an airstrike on a residential house belonging to the Abu Tuyur family, in the vicinity of the Al-Qudsi supermarket in the "Camp 1" area of the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, martyring three civilians.

Further atrocities were committed when an IOF warplane bombed a home east of the Al-Masdar neighborhood in the central Gaza Governate, while at the same time, Zionist artillery detatchments shelled the Nuseirat Camp with an intense mortar bombardment.

Occupation air forces further bombed a house in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood of Gaza City, slaughtering two more civilians and wounding a number of others.

Simultaneously, Israeli fighter jets bombed the Al-Daraj and Sheikh Radwan neighborhoods of Gaza City.

Zionist occupation forces continued its bombardment on neighborhoods west of Rafah City, in Gaza's south, while also launching several raids targeting the outskirts of Beit Hanoun, in the northern Gaza Strip.

Occupation shelling also targeted the Juhr al-Dik area of central Gaza, while also shelling the southern neighborhoods of Gaza City.

According to local sources, as a result of the Israeli occupation's intensified bombardment of the Gaza Strip yesterday, at least 34 civilians were killed, of which, 26 were killed in the Rafah area.

Meanwhile, the occupation renewed its bombardment in the morning, with several casualties recorded across various areas of the enclave.

Intense occupation airstrikes centered on the northern and western neighborhoods of the Nuseirat Camp, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinian civilians, and also wounding at least 15 others.

Three occupation airstrikes also targeted the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, resulting in the martyredom of three civilians and the wounding of 10 others.

Zionist fighter jets continued its crimes by by repeatedly bombing the town of Jabalia, along with the Refugee Camp of the same name outside the town, both in Gaza's north, resulting in the wounding of 7 civilians, including 3 children.

Israeli artillery shelling also targeted the Al-Bureij and Al-Maghazi Refugee Camps, along with shelling the Tal al-Hawa, Sheikh Ajlin, and Al-Zaytoun neighborhoods of Gaza City. Zionist shelling additionally targeted the Sheikh Zayed neighborhood of Beit Lahiya.

Israeli artillery similarly targeted residential homes in the eastern neighborhoods of Khan Yunis.

As a result of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the current death toll in the Palestinian enclave has risen to exceed 34'535 Palestinians killed, including over 14'690 children and 9'680 women, while another 77'704 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

April 30th, 2024

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#source8

#source9

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

32 notes · View notes