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bumblesimagines · 7 months ago

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The Beasts of The North

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

Summary: While he's meant to be convincing the Wolf of the North to send his men to fight a war for his mother, Jace cannot help but grow enthralled by the love between Lord Cregan and Ser (Y/N).

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, mentions/implied homophobia/homophobic religion (The Faith), slight age gaps, slight suggestive content, Cregan and (Y/N) are head over heels, (Y/N) is not a stepfather he is the father that stepped up, bicurious Jace

I know I said I was gonna focus on UTM but my motivation left as quick as my dad did so here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️

~~~

A low, heavy sigh escaped Jace as he sank further into the tub, the heated water digging pleasantly into his skin and ridding it of the cold that'd sunk into him the moment he flew into the North. His head drooped back, the back of his neck resting along the wall of the tub as he slipped in further until the water brushed against his chin. His palms rubbed along his thighs, massaging away the soreness from riding Vermax for so long.

His eyes glided around his new room, taking in everything around him. It reminded him of his bedchambers in Dragonstone with the stone walls and smooth, warm floor but it was sadly where the similarities stopped. It lacked the salty smell of the sea breeze wafting in through the windows, the sound of the waves crashing with the rocky cliffs, the clinking of metal from guards walking around. Most of all.. it lacked his beloved family. It lacked his precious brothers... it lacked his beloved mother. His skin warmed from embarrassment. He was man-grown and the Crown Prince, yet he desperately wished to have his mother near so he could ask her what to say and do.

Jace pushed himself up and began washing himself, scrubbing his skin clean until he no longer smelled of leather and dragon. He remained in the tub for a while longer, soaking up the heat of the water until it became tepid, before rising from the tub and drying himself. His mind raced as he changed into new clothes, his thoughts surrounding Lord Cregan and what to make of him.

He'd flown to the Eyrie first to meet with Lady Jeyne Arryn and managed to garner her support through promises of protecting the Vale of Arryn with dragons, managed to sway the support of the Three Sisters in their favor through Lord Borrell, and arranged for Lord Desmond Manderly of the White Harbor's youngest daughter to one day wed little Joffery in exchange for his support. But what could he possibly offer Lord Cregan Stark to lessen the impact of his men undoubtedly dying once war finally began?

Jace had no younger sisters to offer as a potential bride to Rickon Stark; no lands or titles that could even amount to the lands of Winterfell and the title of Warden of the North; no dragons that'd be pleased to call the North home; no older female relatives to offer as the new Lady of Winterfell (and he certainly wouldn't wish to upset a Mormont); no riches or coin that'd be worth sending men to die. He had nothing to offer, nothing the lord would care for, at least.

His fingers buttoned his white undershirt, his legs leading him toward the window to peer out to the ground below where he had a perfect view of the training grounds. Ser (Y/N) stood by below, his eyes closely watching the squires and boys given to him for training and lips contorted into a frown. He looked older in certain lights, more mature than the age Jace presumed him to be. His lips quirked when Ser (Y/N) smacked the back of one of the squires with his wooden sword, the exasperated expression on his face reminding him of all the times he practiced with Luke and had to scold the boy.

His concerned, borderline anxious thoughts surrounding his host shifted, recalling the words Ser (Y/N) had spoken before he'd left. The Faith of the Seven viewed relations between those of the same sex to be a sin, something septas and maesters warned young children against. But Jace was no fool, nor was he blind or deaf. He'd heard plenty of rumors in court, seen lingering touches between a noblewoman and her favorite handmaiden or fleeting glances between a lord and his personal guard. His own father, Laenor Velaryon, had been said to enjoy the company of men over women; and looking back on his youth, Jace recalled the times he and Ser Qarl Correy often left together, smiling big and lovingly at each other.

Jace liked ladies, he'd be a fool not to with their beauty. But he'd be lying if he said he'd never looked at a lordling or knight and wondered what it'd be like to be with them. He often brushed those thoughts away and told himself it was simply admiration or envy but something in his heart had fluttered when he laid eyes on Lord Cregan and Ser (Y/N), something that blossomed when he witnessed the adoring exchange between the two.

Lovers.

Ser (Y/N) had said it so proudly, so sure of himself. Jace wondered how many times his father had dreamt of declaring his love for Ser Qarl, dreamt of being himself publically without facing the scrutiny and denial of everyone around him. He wondered then, if the longing stares exchanged between his mother and Queen Alicent meant something other than a desire to rekindle a long-lost friendship.

"Prince Jacaerys," He startled and turned away from the window, noticing Sara Snow lingering by the doorway. She smiled politely at him and entered the room, crossing the distance to stand beside him by the window as servants slipped in after her and drained the tub. The servants collected his discarded clothes and bowed before retreating, leaving the two in silence. Jace turned back to her and returned the smile with one of his own.

Snow. A bastard of the North, yet treated as if she were a full-blooded Stark; perhaps because she looked so much like one with her shoulder-length raven hair and those pale blue eyes that resembled Lord Cregan's. Jace couldn't help the prickle of envy that slipped into his veins. If he'd been born resembling his mother over his real father, nobody would've questioned his parentage nor brought insult to his mother and brother. He'd spent so many years fighting to prove himself to everyone around him that he was Targaryen, that he was meant to be Crown Prince. Everything would've proved much easier if he and Luke had been born with those striking violet eyes and silver locks.

"I hope you're settling in well," Sara's gentle voice pulled him of out his thoughts. She glanced toward what'd captivated his attention moments prior, the corners of her mouth lifting knowingly. His skin warmed, though he couldn't pinpoint the reason why. "I know my brother and (Y/N) can seem... standoffish. They were both raised to be guarded and suspicious, but I can assure you, once they've grown used to you they'll be kinder."

"I cannot fault them for their hesitance in welcoming me. I am the bearer of bad news; a symbol of war after so many years of peace." Jace straightened his shoulders and posture, clasping his hands behind his back as he spoke. He needed to be seen as princely as possible, needed to be someone worth paying attention to. "Lord Cregan's support would mean everything to us."

Her eyes crinkled and her head tilted to the side. There was a warmness to her presence that eased Jace into relaxation. "I could help you convince my brother as he does seek out my advice but (Y/N) is our master-at-arms and the one who trained many of our warriors in the past few years. He will need as much convincing as Cregan. The Starks have never broken an oath but it is better to have a willing commander over one who feels forced."

"I agree." Jace nodded, his eyes flickering back down toward the figure below, hearing the muffled groan that escaped the knight when a squire slipped and fell. "And... how would you suggest someone goes about that? He hardly seemed keen on showing me around." Was keen the right word? Ser (Y/N) had seemed outright distraught at the idea.

"How would you go about taming a bear?" The light, almost teasing tone in Sara's voice made him chuckle softly. "Cregan would know all about that, it seems. (Y/N) came here to Winterfell as a ward under our father many years ago. He and Cregan had been at odds then, bickering and fighting but under all that was the beginning of love."

"What of Lady Arra?" Jace asked. He'd heard how her death had brought much pain to Lord Cregan, how he'd mourned her for many months. Sara sighed softly at the mention and Jace winced, hoping he hadn't overstepped by asking.

"Cregan loved her as much as he loves (Y/N)," Sara told him softly, the glint in her eyes turning distant, her mind drifting back to the past. "Cregan was captivated by both of them, I remember. I was a child, hardly old enough to understand what was so charming about love, but even then I knew he cared for them both, even if (Y/N) occasionally brought out the worst in him. Arra forced them to become friends, for her sake, since she cared for them both. In the end, she brought them together both in life and death."

A comfortable silence settled over them, one that made Jace's thoughts flicker back to Baela. He cared for her, he had since they were mere children, but was it like the love between his father and Ser Qarl? The love between Ser (Y/N) and Lord Cregan? He hadn't minded when his mother announced her intent to marry them. He preferred an old friend over a stranger, and he certainly wouldn't mind having children with someone as passionate and caring as Baela. He believed he'd grow to love her, as many arranged couples eventually did, but what if his love for her remained... friendly?

"There'll be a feast in your honor later this evening. The boys should be in better moods by then." The boys. Jace almost snorted, his lips rolling into his mouth to prevent the noise. He wondered how long it took for little Sara to begin bossing them around, the image of her lecturing them as a child floating around in his mind.

"I look forward to learning more of the North." Jace smiled.

Sara returned it, though it held a hint of both mischief and pity. "And I hope you're a heavy sleeper, My Prince."

When dusk fell, the feast began with all kinds of lords, knights, ladies, and squires filling the Great Hall. A proper welcome to the North, if Jace had to admit, finding ale in his hand and delicious food on his plate that he happily ate. He spoke with those around him, his chest brimming with pride and relief whenever he enticed a hearty laugh from a northerner with a jest or a tale. They considered him a southerner, a boy prince who'd hardly fit in amongst the men who looked more like mountains and ladies who knew their way around axes. But with each laugh, grin, and approving nod, he cemented himself further amongst them.

However, Lord Cregan and Ser (Y/N) paid him little mind, allowing the others around to keep him entertained.

Jace watched them as he slowly ate some of his apple cake, the lovely flavor dancing on his tongue but his attention focused on the two despite the tale Russal, the castle's steward, recounted a tale of a hunt that had many leaning forward in anticipation. Jace had been among them until he'd caught sight of Ser (Y/N)'s vibrant and pleased grin at something his lover had said.

He watched with softened eyes as a fussy Rickon finally ceased his whining once Ser (Y/N) took him into his arms, settling the boy on his leg and sparing the briefly distracted Lord Cregan a glance before he scooped some honey cake onto his spoon and offered it to the boy. Rickon wiggled with delight, his small hands grasping (Y/N)'s wrist as he eagerly ate, accidentally smearing frosting over his top lip and just below his nose. Lord Cregan turned back to them and arched a brow at the mess on his son's face, an amused smile stretching across his lips.

"You know you mustn't have sweets before bed, Rickon." He gave his lover a knowing look, one that (Y/N) responded to with an innocent shrug. Rickon merely giggled and licked his lips, reaching for the spoon once more to lick it clean. He reminded Jace of Joffery, his little troublemaking brother who could sway anyone with just a few bats from his eyes and that toothy grin. Jace watched little Rickon, a longing for home forming in his heart once more.

The table erupted in loud laughter that snapped Jace out of his thoughts, flickering his gaze toward Russal as the man drank some ale and took in the hearty laughs and cackles his story received. He smiled and chuckled, the laughter of northerners amusing by itself, and took another gulp of his ale. When his eyes slid back to the couple, he found Ser (Y/N) watching him and nearly choked on his ale, managing to cover up the coughs with wheezy chuckles.

"Princeling," Ser (Y/N) pulled Rickon further against his chest so he could rest his chin on the boy's messy dark hair. The table largely quieted down, save for a few conversations here and there, most of the attention turning onto the prince and Ser (Y/N). Jace straightened his back instinctively with all eyes on him and gave him a nod to go on. "Tell us of dragons."

"Dagons!" Rickon cheered, drawing soft chuckles and coos from those around.

"Well, uhm," Jace cleared his throat, his mind flickering back to all the lessons he'd received through the years, primarily on the histories of his family. "There are different tales on how dragons came to be. Those who came from Old Valryia claim dragons came from the Fourteen Flames but there are tales that dragons were brought forth through blood magic used on wyverns. Regardless, Valyrians tamed and rode them. It was said Valyrians themselves were descendants of the beasts and were kin with those they rode. Many believe a dragon will accept anyone of Valyrian blood but it is simply not true. A rider does not choose its dragon, the dragon chooses its rider. They will not allow anyone else to ride them for as long as their rider lives and breathes."

"Your dragon chose you, then? It looks quite young." Ser (Y/N) tilted his head. Jace wondered what tales were told in the North about dragons, about his family. Lord Alaric Stark had hosted King Jaehaerys Targaryen and Queen Alysanne Targaryen at Winterfell once many years prior, surely leaving a good enough impression for things to remain amiable between the families. Jace could only hope to leave the same impression.

"The tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen where eggs are placed in the cradle of Targaryen babes allows for a bond to form in youth. Vermax hatched in my cradle so we were raised together as... brothers, in a way. The bond between a dragonrider and their dragon runs deep. It is said a dragon may feel everything its rider feels. They may grow restless when their rider falls ill or is gravely injured." Jace couldn't help the burst of pride in his chest at the curiosity and intrigue in the eyes of those around him. Velaryon blood never ran through his veins but it hadn't made him any less of a Targaryen.

"Interesting." Ser (Y/N) said flatly, and the pride died a little.

By the time night properly fell, the buzz in Jace's veins had been undeniable. Northerners liked their drinks strong, and Jace had never been one to back down when faced with challenging smirks and glints. Drinking their ale and beer had earned him many burning claps on his back and shoulders but as he stumbled through the halls and toward his bedchambers, he wondered if perhaps he should've paced himself. He almost tripped over his own foot and gave a soft giggle at his clumsiness before his eyes shifted to the streak of light pouring from a cracked open door. Against his better judgment, he approached it like a moth to a flame and raised his head to peek into the room.

"Byran thinks we ought to do a hunt soon. The hounds have grown restless, says they could use the exercise." He found Ser (Y/N) first, the many layers of clothing he'd once worn gone, leaving him in loose beige-colored sleepwear. The knight tilted his head up toward his lover, the warm candlelight and peaceful look on his face chipping away at the slight fear that'd gripped Jace's gut when he'd first seen him.

"Aye," Lord Cregan responded, and Jace's face warmed when he raked his gaze over his muscular back and strong-looking arms, a shirt pinched in his hands before the lord tossed it aside. His chest and pudgy stomach were covered in dark hairs, ones that Jace tracked until they disappeared beneath his pants. "We could take the princeling, then. Show him how the North works."

"And how does the North work, love?" Jace's veins bubbled when he heard Ser (Y/N)'s light laughter, when he watched Lord Cregan take a seat at the edge of the bed while Ser (Y/N) slid up behind him. His fingers dipped into Lord Cregan's hair, brushing and pulling back his dark strands gently, a gentleness he hadn't given those he'd been training. Ser (Y/N) tied his lover's hair back into a bun, some shorter strands slipping out and framing Lord Cregan's face.

"The North is... full of surprises." The older man murmured, tilting his head back and ghosting his lips over Ser (Y/N)'s cheek as the knight's arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. When their lips connected, Jace's stomach flipped with a new feeling of longing, surprised by the warmth and sweetness of the kiss.

Lord Cregan's body tiled and his arm moved, sliding around his lover's waist and dragging him onto his lap. Laughter and giggles freely fell from Ser (Y/N)'s lips, a wide smile on his face as he settled happily across Lord Cregan's thighs. They stared at each other, lips curled upward and eyes crinkled with delight before Lord Cregan pressed a kiss to Ser (Y/N)'s forehead and murmured something in his ear. When Lord Cregan's hand dipped into the knight's pants, Jace jerked back, a violent heat darting up his spine and spreading through his veins.

Despite his drunken mind, he staggered away from the door and toward his bedchambers, tossing the door open and slamming it shut behind him. His back pressed against the wood when his legs grew too wobbly to keep him up without help, a shaky exhale escaping him. It was hard to pinpoint what swirled around so violently in his stomach; too many emotions threatening to swallow him whole in a single gulp. He felt them prickling along his back.

Desire, want, longing, mortification, embarrassment.

He was the Crown Prince, Seven Hells! It was entirely unprincely to act no better than a peeping tom, even if the coils around his stomach and heart yearned to be under such an adoring gaze and needy hands. Jace groaned and brought a hand to his face, pushing himself off the door and stumbling toward the blanket and fur covered bed where he collapsed. He buried his face into one of the furs, feeling the soft strands brush against his skin soothingly. He prayed they hadn't taken notice, hadn't realized he'd been watching.

He was a guest in their home. A temporary guest who'd leave once he ensured he'd secured the North's loyalty and support... even if he had to withhold from indulging in his growing curiosity.

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wttcsms · 13 days ago

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꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ BLUE LOCK MASTERLIST !!

꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ ⌞hiya! i'm yocchan, your guide to this masterlist! it's my job to tell you to please proceed with caution! wttcsms has created a blog that is a designated space meant only for those 18 years+! there's a high likelihood that the content below is nsfw/dark content. ⌝

⌞ if you understand and are willing to still continue, then you should know that this masterlist is organized by tumblr posting date! ⌝

⌞this masterlist was last updated on jan. 23, 2025! ⌝ ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱

RIN ITOSHI !!

rin with a breeding kink (thirst post) rin itoshi is not emotionally stable enough for missionary (concept) domesticity with rin (headcanon) alone together (series masterlist) jealous!rin (headcanon) rin's good luck charm (headcanon) single!dad rin (concept post) rin x publicist!reader (concept post) why are you at my door at 10:57 pm? (sfw drabble) rin x scaredy cat gf (headcanon) rin itoshi eats it like a champ confirmed (nsfw drabble) lover! (headcanon) bark like you want it! wag!reader (headcanon) rin's stamina (headcanon) hallmark holiday! (headcanon)

KENYU YUKIMIYA !!

why kenyu stares at you so often (headcanon) adore me, mark your territory (nsfw/dc one shot)

YOICHI ISAGI !!

ravenous (nsfw one shot) jealous!isagi (headcanon) yoichi's good luck charm (headcanon) isagi when reader wears lingerie (headcanon) isagi = 'she can ride my face i don't want nothing in return' core (nsfw concept post) dad!isagi fluff (drabble) coach's daughter!reader x isagi (nsfw concept) isagi's grimy kid (headcanon) lover! (headcanon) bark like you want it! wag!reader (headcanon) if you feel like falling (series masterlist) isagi is the best bf confirmed (headcanon) teacher!reader (concept) silly bf isagi (headcanon) let you lock me down tonight (nsfw one shot) isagi's idea of aftercare (headcanon) do it softly now, baby! (headcanon) hallmark holiday! (headcanon) post-game hard-on (headcanon)

SHOUEI BAROU !!

jealous!barou (headcanon) do it softly now, baby! (headcanon) hallmark holiday! (headcanon)

HYOMA CHIGIRI !!

chigiri's good luck charm (headcanon)

SAE ITOSHI !!

it always leads to you (series masterlist) sae + victory sex (nsfw drabble) secretly clingy bf (headcanon) do it softly now, baby! (headcanon) situationship warriors (concept) i want all your tomorrows (drabble)

RENSUKE KUNIGAMI !!

kuni + idol!reader (concept) lover! (headcanon) bark like you want it! wag!reader (headcanon) do it softly now, baby (headcanon)

SEISHIRO NAGI !!

nagi x reo's younger sister!reader (concept) lover! (headcanon) bark like you want it! wag!reader (headcanon) now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night (nsfw one shot) it's the little things (concept) hallmark holiday! (headcanon)

ZANTETSU TSURUGI !!

shoujo-esque tropes with zantetsu (concept)

OLIVER AIKU !!

oliver with a john tucker must die plot (concept) hallmark holiday! (headcanon)

REO MIKAGE !!

lover! (headcanon) bark like you want it! wag!reader (headcanon)

SHUTO SENDOU !!

do it softly now, baby! (headcanon)

JINPACHI EGO !!

hallmark holiday! (headcanon)

NOEL NOA !!

hallmark holiday! (headcanon)

#wttcsms #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #smut #tw dark content #masterlist #rin itoshi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #reo mikage x reader #shouei barou x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader #oliver aiku x reader #kenyu yukimiya x reader

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brothermouse-skeleton · 8 months ago

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Stormlight Archive AU where the Stormfather is a regular dad and Dalinar is the pet that he swore he would never adopt and didn't even want, but soon becomes so attached that he lets him ride around in his shirt pocket and would die for him at a moments notice.

In this scenario Syl is his daughter who secretly adopted a wet injured stray raccoon (Kaladin)

#cosmere #brandon sanderson #stormlight archive

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 1 year ago

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Mz. Bitch's Masterlist

Started: 2/24/24 Last updated: 2/1/25

Due to inline link limits, please click on the story name to start reading and follow the chapter links. Thanks little darlings! Love y'all!

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes *One shots Sex Pollen My Alpha Got Nothing On You +parts Movie Night Please Come Back Vibranium & Stainless Steel Shy Dream Girl A little help from my friend Angry baby? Throw It in the Dishwasher +parts The Boss +parts I.T. Time to Heal A Very Cutesy, Very Demure Halloween Regrets & Apologies Quite a Workout +parts Overheard Oh Sister Let's Go Down Little Sea Storm I may be a real bad boy...but baby I'm a real good man Zhihn moya Flirty A Bumpy Ride +parts Fire! Lots of Love +parts Things Are Not As They Seem It's Been a Long, Long Time La Muerte Deja Vu Soldat Blood and...Balsam? Slow, Sexy Mornings Moody Bucky Made of Dreams One bed *Series Breaking the Class Ceiling **Finished Bucky Barnes is a middle class clerk. He needs to marry well to take care of himself and his father. Y/N Y/L/N is the heir to a millionaire fortune, who is blunt, no-nonsense, flirtatious, and looking for a partner. Everyone is vying for her hand. Can Bucky ever win? Pretty Pointy Smile **Finished Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since. His father has had enough and sells him to the circus. The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be. Sugar Mama **Finished Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him. Marriage of Convenience **Finished Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her. But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband. Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects? Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help… The Temptation **Finished Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants. So why does this fallen angel tempt him so? You cannot serve two masters. Will he choose God, or his heart? Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons **Finished Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of. A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has. Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Stranded **Finished Tossed overboard and lost at sea, Bucky washes up on an uninhabited island. Injured, lost and scared, with little to no wilderness training, he fights to survive. But is he really alone? The Fuck Up **Finished Bucky fucked up. A few times. Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Naughty Nanny **Finished Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand. He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later. But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her. The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time. Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought. Run, pretty girl, run **Finished Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray. The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives. Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with. Will they make it before she goes into labor? Or at all?

Pretty P.A. **Finished Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion model agency director in the industry for the past 13 years. They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes. He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him. Change always takes time, but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her. The Gorgon **Finished The village nearest the mountain by the sea has a generations-old tradition of offering sacrifices to the monster in the mountain to gain favor and keep its wrath away from the people. Every person starting from the age of 15 has to take a turn in making the journey up the mountain to the mouth of the cave once a year to drop off the gifts…and it’s a journey that some never come back from. Y/N took her turn when she was 15, and now the rotation has come back to her again. If the gift isn’t given by the autumn solstice, there’s no telling what harm the creature will wreak onto the people. With a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in her way, will she make it to save her and her people? Can a monster have a heart? Dreamboat **Finished Y/N, her brother Steve, and his best friend Bucky all moved out West for a new start after Y/N was almost caught up and hurt in a rival gang fight. Steve wasn’t in shape to fight in the war, but Bucky was drafted. While out West, Y/N finds herself in trouble again from the local bar owner. Steve is suddenly drafted for an experimental division of the army, but leaving Y/N alone isn’t an option. Bucky comes home needing help, and Steve comes up with a crazy compromise. Sweet Pumpkin **Finished Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues. It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself. He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended. Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Yes Mama **Finished Bucky Barnes has made quite the name for himself in the underground mob boss world. But he’s not the boss. Just the face of the Family.

A Pirate's Life for Me **Finished Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew on the Armored Star are the most fearsome pirates in the known world. They’ve given the British fleet a run for their money as they try to free the enslaved and take from the rich, but they could have never guessed how the British empire would retaliate against them. When a new pirate ship appears and lays waste to all in its path, will Bucky and his crew be ready for the wrath of a woman scorned?

The Witch and The Doctor **Finished Bucky thought he could make a difference, getting a medical license and trying to change people’s minds. But the 1600s New World is a harsh place with cruel people. After being accused of witchcraft he makes a run for it, facing the dangers of the woods and the rumored witch that lives within them.

Sugar & Spicy Books **Finished Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to. She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot. Will old feelings arise? Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

The Professor's Aid **Finished Bucky has one last year left of college. He has tutoring/teacher’s aid credits he needs to fill to graduate, no matter the subject. He applies to be the Women’s Studies professor’s TA, thinking maybe he can skate by easily, until he meets the no-nonsense, large and in charge, pretty as sin professor who is hotter than expected.

Marriage Problems **WIP They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon. Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling. Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives. Can they get their spark back? Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Peter Parker *One shots Emotional *Short Series Tasty **Finished Peter just wanted to have one night of fun. Then that night of fun almost killed him. Now it won’t stop haunting him. And he’s loving it.

*Series The Young Duke **Finished Queen Y/N is running out of time. At 35 years old she has to marry and make an heir to the throne, but all suitors so far have been unsatisfactory in one way or another. Duke Peter Parker is the young Duke of Queensland, and his family is on the brink of ruin due to his parents’ failures and famines throughout the years. He needs to find an advantageous marriage to save his family’s estate, so when an invitation from the Crown comes, he jumps at the opportunity. Will it be a match?

Steve Rogers *Oneshot Sex Pollen An Evening Stroll

*Series My Queen **Finished Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother. He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Fortuna Major **Finished Steve Rogers came home from World War II shell shocked and overwhelmed by the place he once called home. After losing his mother he and his injured best friend Bucky decide to find a quieter, slower way of life to heal from the war. They head out west until they hit Fortuna, California, and get jobs in the lumber industry. Steve comes across a local lodging for miners and lumber workers, and falls head over heels for the female owner who takes no man’s shit.

Stucky *Oneshot Three's Company

*Series Emerald Hallow **Finished Steve Rogers wants to move on. He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century. But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas. He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good. And he's not the only one who smells it...

Actors

Sebastian Stan *Series A Patient Man **Finished Sebastian swore to never fall for another co-star again. Until Y/N drops into his life.

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mo0nfairy · 1 year ago

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART TWO !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 10.2k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, murder/death, gore/blood, stalking, age-gap, non-con touching, drugging, invasion of privacy, force-feeding, mentions of rape/assault, mentions of vomit, hanging, insinuations of suicide, physical restraint, child neglect/abuse, child abandonment, & a lot of gross shit.

miguel o'hara's yandere traits are . . .

smothering, territorial, & paranoid

──── Electricity. It is what Miguel O'Hara lost you to on October 17th, 2099. And it is what he felt on May 16th of the same year.

A soccer coach, that is all you were. Simply there to guide a gaggle of tiny rascals toward their dreams of becoming Olympic athletes. That is all you should have been. Spending your days beneath the sweltering sun, collecting quick money and soccer-ball-induced bruises, before leaving Nueva York to settle down elsewhere. That is what you could have been.

Gabriella O'Hara was one of your many students. However, her dad was rarely present during her games. The lack of fatherly presence struck a parental nerve in your body, hence your perceptible favoritism for her. The efforts you made did not go unnoticed by Gabriella, either.

The time she had preferred tying dandelion stems to one another instead of participating with other classmates, you joined the lonely girl and taught her how to craft flower crowns. Since then, she has always arrived to practice with light in her eyes as she gifts you another flower crown of millions. And of course, you thank her graciously for the present. Even after they wilt and wither, they will forever have a home in your residence.

Today was a particularly gloomy Saturday in late March. The carpool Miguel relied on had been cancelled last minute, much to his dismay. The parent he couldn't remember the name of informed him their child was stricken with a case of chickenpox. After reading their incessant apologies, he groans in a fit of annoyance upon realizing he would have to chauffeur his daughter for the day.

Soccer Ball and weed-ridden flower crown in her small hands, Gabriella clambers into the back of the car and fastens herself into the car seat. In the process, she finds yet another way to bring you into the conversation. Somehow in the span of a few weeks, everything Gabriella does revolves around you in some shape or form. If Miguel hears 'Y/N,' 'flower-crowns,' or 'soccer' once more, he is positive he will implode on the spot. Clenching his jaw, he mentally prepares himself for the most excruciating car ride he is sure he will ever endure.

When they arrive at the field, there is no hug, no kiss, not even a wave of goodbye. Miguel merely lets his daughter exit the vehicle herself, ignores her exclamation of "See you later!" and zooms off. Despite how harrowing her father's negligence is, Gabriella knows she will see you and that fact aids all. If she were honest, she would say she likes you far more than she does her own family. It is tacitly evident through the attention you give her. You lighten up like a Christmas tree when she runs and engulfs your legs in a tight hug. Gleefully, you accept her gift of yet another flower crown and praise her for the effort she put into crafting such. And after being so deprived of the necessity of love, Gabriella practically clings to your side like a parasite.

In the meantime, Miguel returns home and hastily sorts through reports sent in by Alchemax. From technological hiccups to your average-day Karen, being in this field never failed to make this man roll his eyes in annoyance. Despite the admiratio he holds for his career, he still grumbles when his responsibilities creep up on him. And much like everything else in his life, he despises it all.

A monitor then pops up beside him, the translucent screen displaying a reminder he had set hours ago. "May 16th, 2099. Saturday. 3:45 PM. Pick Up Child." His head is thrown back in a fit of irritation when he is reminded of her presence. Miguel closes the tab and leaves the expanse of his office, counting down the days until his daughter blows out her 18 candles and he can finally be at peace.

After the car ride spent pondering over why he had chosen this life, he soon arrives at the soccer field. Scrutinizing through the cluster of children playing in the field, he cannot find Gabriella through the chaos. Miguel does not worry about her well-being, as opposed to how other parents would react to their child being missing. He merely huffs before departing from the vehicle. His large hand tracks through his hair as he searches for where the brat had wandered off to, ignoring the lustful gazes from mothers who were explicitly unhappy in their marriages.

Tucked away in the corner is the first-aid center. Within the bell tent, he spots his daughter. She is blissfully happy as she laughs hysterically, which makes her father red with rage. His talons dig into the meat of his palms; his fangs protrude into his lips. He had already driven all this way for her, how dare she force him to travel even further!? Stomping across the field and through the threshold, his towering frame suddenly halts when he takes notice of the additional presence inside the tent.

And just like that, for the first time in his entire life, the anger simply... vanishes. It is almost like magic. Through tireless efforts, Miguel has done everything in his power to deplete this suffocating rage. All efforts made by him were brought to no fruition. In this moment, however, the mere presence of this stranger brings such a candy-sweet shock to all his senses, that he forgets where his anger was in the first place.

They cast a look over their shoulder to acknowledge his sudden entrance. And their features sit like stars on the expanse of their face, their eyes like the sun and moon basking him in its holy light. A kind smile that could rival the luminescence of heaven grows on their face. Miguel is shocked the sight hadn't caused his knees to lock beneath him. They introduce themselves and if he could write their name on his tongue and only ever speak of them, he wouldn't waste another heartbeat.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

The word sounds like flowers in the wind; like an answered prayer for brighter days. Extending their arm out to shake his hand, Miguel fervently takes their hand into his and shivers from the close, yet minimal, contact.

"So, this is the notorious Y/N I've heard so much about." His voice drops to a low husk, attempting to woo you.

Miguel presses your knuckles to his lips and kisses them with fervid haste. The skin, flesh, and warmth pervading the expanse of his lips make him feel weightless. He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body, but with you now in his life, he'd tear every raw bone from his body and place them at your feet if you so much as asked. Just keep making him feel the way you do.

He then introduces himself and punctuates the syllables with the inflection of his accent, knowing of how it drove others wild. In this case, he was not given the heart-lurching sight of you averting your gaze or listening to your flustered giggles. Instead, you yank your hand away from his affections and revert your attention to Gabriella. Miguel had forgotten she was there altogether, and once again, the permeating rage returned once more.

Without your blessed attention, his lost soul returns to the home it built out of anger and misery. He had so greedily absorbed every sliver of good you possessed, he never fathomed how he would feel when it would be inevitably revoked.

Upon closer inspection, Miguel notices how his daughter's cheeks are puffy with stained tears. On her knees are a clutter of superhero-themed band-aids, a few displaying her father in his work attire. You inform him of the tumble she had taken earlier that day and of how there was nothing to concern himself with, gesturing to the bandages adorning her frail legs. He was never worried in the first place, only captivated by your sheer existence.

You then bend down to where Gabriella is seated on an ottoman and take her tiny hands into yours.

"I was going to wait until later on, but I got a gift that I just have to give you!" Gabriella lightens up as if you had told her you were taking her to Disneyland, anxiously anticipating her present.

Quirking your head, you turn to her father. "If that is alright with you, of course." Yes, anything you want. I will give you everything you could ever want.

A nod of his head and you stand to your feet. That mellifluous voice of yours that Miguel could listen to forever apprises Gabriella to close her eyes, which she obliges to and brings her palms to her face. Grasping hold of the gift hidden in the corner of the tent, you begin to tread toward the young girl. Before you had granted her to, she not-so-sneakily peeks through the expanse of her fingers. She can't abstain from squealing in excitement when she catches sight of what is in your palms. She closes the distance between you both and rushes to you, before practically yanking the gift out of your grasp. A harsh scolding bridges upon Miguel's lips for the action. However, when he takes notice of the admiration in your expression, he is rendered speechless with sudden envy.

A flower crown is what you had given her. The detail is exquisite, evident in the sheer awe plastered upon Gabriella's face as she studies it. Strawflower, lavender, eucalyptus, and daisies adorn the garment, as well as strands of amaranth that would cascade down her back. In addition to this, a myriad of other ornamentations clung to the crown. Vibrant gemstones, pastel buttons, and a pink, silken ribbon that ties the crown together in a flawless bow — it is a tiara befitting the most beautiful of princesses. And you told Gabriella she fit that standard effortlessly.

Meanwhile, Miguel stands in the background and seethes. How despairingly he wishes the gift were for him instead. In any other light, he'd say the garment was tacky. Ugly, even. He would have no resourceful use for it, either, and it would inevitably be chucked into the garbage. When it is you who put all care and detail into the gift, however, the story changes. Mere seconds have gone by since he has learned your name and still, he'd flaunt that crown for the rest of his life if you had gifted it to him. No matter the judging heaps of laughter he'd receive from others.

Gabriella thanks you profusely and engulfs your legs in another hug. Her gratitude is met with a reciprocated squeeze, as well. The act of affection is given to one another entirely oblivious to the third party overwhelmed with jealousy. His thick brows are plastered in a permanent furrow and his lips have morphed into an envious sneer. You are so effortlessly good with children and Miguel can't refrain his brain from catapulting to conclusions.

What does your life look like outside of being his daughter's favorite person? Do you have children of your own?

Is there someone else?

You and Gabriella then perform your secret handshake. It had been choreographed during one of the numerous soccer meets after her father neglected to collect his daughter on time. Soon, the two are leaving the tent. And every step away from you feels like walking on hot stones. The further Miguel treads, the scorching temperatures increase. He cannot look back. One glance and he'd be barreling for the poor tent like some rabid animal, desperate for another taste of your bottled happiness.

May 16th had only been the beginning of the Miguel-ridden chaos that would soon embark into your life.

Considering his negligence, you were stunned to see how he had signed his daughter up for several classes a week. But, you become entirely aghast with shock when you find him attending every meeting and game, remaining in the same spot for the entire course. Most parents twiddle on their phones while others mingle with the other adults. Miguel O'Hara was different. His sole, undivided attention was reserved for the actions taken on the field. And his sweet child could not have been more elated.

You presumed this alter in behavior to be a spark of realization that manifested into becoming a better parent. However, as the weeks go by and he continues to attend, you are quick to realize how his attention isn't appointed to his daughter, but it is set on you instead.

It is impossible for you to disinter what about yourself he finds so entertaining. With his eyes glued to you, it fills you with a sense of insecurity when you assume he may be mocking or judging you. The seemingly permanent dead emotion cast on his face makes you squirm with discomfort.

Upon closer inspection, or during the constant chatter he provokes when you're not occupied with the children, you swear the pupils of his eye almost appear... heart-shaped? You also cannot remember a time when he looked you directly in the eye, either. You're sure if you asked him what your eye color is, he'd be dumbfounded (he knows the exact shade by HTML color code, but that fact remains unknown to you). They are locked onto your lips, instead. Do you have something on your face? Maybe something in your teeth? The lack of emotion he communicates through facial expressions has you ridden with worry.

The most evident response you've been able to perceive in his expression was on a random day after practice. In the midst of a conversation with Miguel, another father interrupts him. His face morphs into something murderous when the unwelcome guest has the audacity to ask for your number. He claims it is to inquire you about his son's performance while he is not physically present in the game. With the way his eyes leer to your body, Miguel knows exactly what kind of revolting, perverted visions are plaguing his mind.

Clenched jaw, tense frown, eyes blown wide — Miguel’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths while he glares bullets into the man. It takes everything within him to not release his talons, flash his fangs, and rip this pervert into nothing but a bloodied mess of gore on this very soccer field.

He is dead by dawn.

Exposed to several counts of rape and assault, Spider-Man hanged that man with his red web-matter beneath a bridge. His written confession was pinned to his chest with a hunting knife.

The disturbing events led his wife to officially resign her son from your practice. On live television, the widow swears on her life that her husband would not do such a thing. The sudden exposure of random crimes without any victims or proof does seem a tad suspicious, you think to yourself. Due to the circumstances, however, you cancel soccer meetups for the following several weeks so parents and children can process these disturbing events.

While you are typing another empathetic message to the apparent-criminal’s wife, another message pings on your device.

The culprit is no other than Miguel O'Hara. As if the news that had spread amongst the city like wildfire had chosen to leave him intact.

As if nothing happened.

Miguel invites you to an ice cream parlor with him and Gabriella, a weird undertone that implies it's a date while his daughter is the annoying third wheel. To get your mind off the poor boy whose father was brutally murdered, you agree to the rendezvous. His response is far too ecstatic to be deemed platonic, but much like all of his other flirtatious insinuations, you ignore it. You are juggling much more important, colossal matters in your life, after all.

Early afternoon rolls around and you arrive a mere five minutes early to the parlor, only to find the two were already seated beneath a pastel-striped umbrella. Gabriella is adorned in the flower crown you gifted her weeks ago, babbling about frivolous matters while her father sits beside her. Chin rested against his palm, you have never seen a more bored expression on a human's face.

Double-checking the clock to ensure Miguel's apathy wasn't a result of your poor planning, you're relieved to see your suspicions were false. You briefly scroll through the new messages on your phone from parents and neighbors regarding their children. As much as you adore your job, juggling the well-being of so many lives can be exhausting.

The click of your car door opening cuts your actions short. Looking at the sudden intrusion, you find Miguel O'Hara towering over you with Gabriella at his side. Her eyes beam beneath the flower crown you crafted, while her father perceptibly softens at the sight of you. Almost as if a tidal wave of relief washed over him after years spent breathing in trepidation. Not wasting another second, Gabriella crawls into the car and engulfs you in a hug. You are able to reciprocate the affection before her father pulls her away from what's his you. He is rather rough with her, but the smile that paints her face aids the dread inside of you.

Miguel lends a hand, which you take with reluctance. He guides you from your beat-up, engine-sputtering vehicle as if you were royalty. Your other hand was now held hostage by Gabriella, who attempts to conquer her father's strength and guide you to where they were once seated. Her efforts are futile when you are yanked into Miguel's sudden embrace. He was never shy with his affections, but this is the first time he was so close to you. And God, is it overwhelming. His imposing frame envelops every inch of you, to where all your senses are deluged in all of him. His cologne, his muscles, his warmth — he is everywhere and it is wholly suffocating.

"I missed you so much..." A beat passes before you realize he is referring to the mere week you have spent without seeing the O'Hara family.

Slowly and painstakingly, he releases you from his tenacious hold. Gabriella is then swift to fill the silence. She grasps your attention easily, something her father has struggled immensely with.

She pantomimes about the fashion show she hosted for her dolls back home and the success she earned during her P.E. class a few days prior. So indulged in the stories of this poor, attention-deprived child, you failed to notice how your hand was still held in Miguel's grasp. His lips find your knuckles, as they always do. The sensation of his kiss against you was nothing out of the blue. The act of affection had become a strange routine for every encounter you both shared. Without your resistance, Miguel fully indulges himself in how much he has missed you and plants more long, abiding kisses to your hand.

When you finally perceive his actions, you swiftly yank your hand away from his relentless affections. An awkward, forced smile sits on your face as you look at him with furrowed brows, seemingly scrutinizing him for some sort of explanation of his actions. Gabriella then pulls you away and drags you like a dog to their reserved table. Not without a sharp demand from her father to be careful with you.

On the surface, you find a colossal bowl of your favorite ice cream. The question lurks of how they had known this fact, but you merely brush it off as dropping the information to Gabriella a while ago. Besides the treat, a bouquet of paper flowers scribbled with bright-hued markers sits. She expresses how she crafted it for you during her time in school. Students were given art equipment and assigned to create a heartfelt gift for their parents. In the brain of Gabriella, she neglected her actual parent and put all her love into creating something perfect for you. And to you, it was all of that and more.

The three of you sit. You thank the young girl for the beautiful gift. Then, you pretend to inhale the scent of fresh flowers and jokingly compliment her on how she picked the finest posy from her garden. Before you can continue to pantomime about the process she went through to craft the bouquet, her father interrupts her. He proposes a gift he has gotten for you, as well.

A box is then placed before you. It is enveloped in vermillion velvet and silver tracings of 'Cartier' are threaded among the sides. You restrain from expressing your shock at the expensive appearance. Flicking the small latch that probably costs more than your bedroom alone, you gently clutch the two adjacent covers and open the box.

Sat inside is a diamond ring. The way the July sun reflects against the gift and into your eyes is harsh. You're shocked you hadn't gone blind from the unwelcome pervasion. The intricacies of the garment are delicate and precious, to where you are afraid of even putting your hands on such finery. You become entirely ridden with shock and terror when you grasp the thin thread attached to the box and read the price tag.

$2,000,000 is written in bold letters, almost as if the striking font was ridiculing you.

As heard through the fits of gossip from bored parents during practice, you were aware Miguel was a billionaire working at Alchemax. In these past few weeks spent handling nagging parents worried for their children's safety, the fact seems to have escaped your brain. And even with receipts that look like phone numbers, you still cannot fathom how pure diamonds are mere pocket change to him.

Jaw on the ground, you don't realize just how much time you spent gawking at the ring. A hum of amused, affectionate laughter clutches you away from your state of captivation. You shift your gaze away to see Miguel and those all-too-familiar heart-shaped pupils. Staring into your soul. It is the most emotion you have seen on his face since you met him. You wonder how many times he has looked at you like that when you were occupied with other matters.

He moves closer to you. You stalk his movements with curiosity, watching as he grasps your hand for the zillionth time since you met him. Uncomfortably pressing himself against you, Miguel reaches over your shoulder and grasps the ring. He evidently indulges in every second spent in close proximity with you. The hot, heavy breath fanning against your ear informs you of what captivated chaos is taking place inside his brain. Goosebumps bloom on your skin when the frigid diamonds meet the flesh of your ring finger. He assumes the sudden shiver engrossing your body is due to his closeness and he does little to hide his perceptible excitement.

You loving him nearly as much as he loves you — that is all he could ever want.

You lightly tread your digits among the ring, almost afraid to dirty the expensive jewelry with your mere touch. You stutter through an attempt at thanking Miguel for the gift. And your awe mending with your gratitude has his heart lurching in his chest. God, you are just so sweet. He is surprised his teeth haven't all rotted just from standing here in your presence.

Gabriella is in a similar state to you, as well. Any child in the presence of jewelry meant to be worn by a deity would react in a similar manner. Though, her childlike wonder fogs all the polite manners she prided herself in having. Her small fingers reach to touch the diamonds, but her efforts are halted a mere picosecond after they had begun.

Miguel snaps his fingers. That is all he does. Gabriella freezes at the sound, turning her attention to her father, and then cowering like a scolded puppy. She scoots away from you, abandoning her endeavors the second his fingers meet his palm. You fear what occurs beneath the roof of their home when there are no prying eyes there to witness anything.

A sultry whisper of "you look perfect" in your ear and the state of discomfort you were in only intensifies. Miguel's finger drags from your left shoulder blade to the other as he begrudgingly moves away from you, returning to his original seat.

Nearly incoherent blabbers of the ring being too much money tumble from your lips as you try and rid yourself of the diamonds. However, no matter how tireless your efforts are, the ring almost seems locked around your finger. A gentle tap to your elbow from Miguel beside you and you halt your efforts. You've heard he is quite scary when angry, after all.

With melted ice cream left on the table and diamonds superglued to your finger, you come to the conclusion that leaving your house today was probably a mistake.

When you do return home, however, you now realize you should have seen the blatant red flags long ago and left Miguel in your shadow. Your incessant assurances of how he just has an odd way of expressing kindness halted you from accepting the truth.

Standing before your bathroom mirror, a myriad of cleaning products from beneath the sink sit before you. Your laptop sits there, too, and displays countless YouTube videos adhering to removing a tight ring. Attempting to unravel the glimmering, red knot tying the ring to your hand, the revelation of Miguel's intentions finally begins to settle. These matters are so important, that you don't even acknowledge how the vermillion string looks oddly familiar to what you see the city's superhero using to travel.

Deep within your thoughts, the sharp vibration of a text message startles you out of your inner turmoil. A hologram expands from your phone left against the bathroom countertop. Lo and behold, no other than Miguel O'Hara has messaged you. He thanks you for joining him earlier (avoiding mentioning how his daughter was there, too). He slides an additional compliment of how diamonds look stunning on you. You're glad the toilet is so close to you, as you may need to vomit from the rotten sweetness of his words.

Instead of replying, as you would normally thank him for his kindness, you ignore his message. You are far more interested in trying to rid your hand of this ring without harming the accessory and washing his $2,000,000 down the drain.

With fruitless efforts and exhausted arms, you slouch against the bathroom wall and wave a white flag. You decide to succumb to the stubborn ring's desires and move on with your nightly routine. Instead of having your usual shower, however, you run a bath instead to avoid harming these damned diamonds. It is almost comical to lay in these bubbles completely nude while still wearing this single piece of jewelry. You wonder how Miguel would react to seeing you like this, physically scowling at the lust-ridden response you know he would have.

Speak of the devil, another message from him chimes on your phone. The hologram expands from its spot on the counter, once more. He inquires why you haven't responded to him, as if you would drop everything just to converse with him. He would do the same for you in a heartbeat, but that fact remains unknown to you.

A mere minute passes before an onslaught of messages begins to pour into the room. The rapid ding! of your phone causes you to clench your teeth with fervent irritation. You groan before abruptly escaping the warm embrace of bathwater to grasp your phone. Ignoring all incessant begs for your attention, you put your phone on mute and savor the tranquility that follows. You also overlook the mentions of "not being able to see you" and "his cameras disconnecting" in favor of returning to your peaceful bath.

Your state of relaxation is short-lived, much to your dismay. Not even several minutes later the tumultuous sound of fists banging on your front door permeates. The sudden intrusion of noise sends a shock of terror into your heart. Due to recent events, you fear the crime that has spread throughout Nueva York is now standing outside your home. Could it be someone begging for help? Or could it be someone eager to take your life? Swiftly ensnaring a robe around your body, you hastily tie the knot as you rush to identify the one responsible for the clamor.

Another groan of vexation escapes your throat when you see Miguel at your doorstep through the peephole. The fear simmers but returns when you can't piece together how on Earth he knew where you lived. You hesitate to open the door, but it isn't like you have much of a choice in that matter.

The door creaks open. And the reaction Miguel has seeing you in a robe and his diamonds is more than perceptible. Almost as if whatever excuse he conjured up for being at your home at this hour had been snagged from his brain. His eyes travel from your head to your toes, then back upwards, before reality slaps him across the face and forces him out of wonderland. The fear pumping through his body depleted the second Miguel saw you, to where nothing but a hot canopy of tranquility embraced him. The confused, puppy-like expression on your face, the thin robe protecting you from exposure, and his precious diamonds on your hand — nothing about this sight could save him from the tsunami of devotion that has swallowed him whole.

His arms are around you faster than you could think. And he just melts.

You meekly attempt to escape his tenacious hold, but your efforts are never brought to fruition. With his large hands clasped onto your body and his face nuzzled into your neck, escaping this man and his smothering love was a mere pipe dream.

If the emotions coursing through Miguel in this moment had somehow become a physical matter, he would care for it like he would a newborn baby. Tend to its every need, soothe it when it fusses, give away every ounce of love his heart can possibly accommodate. It contradicts his current performance as an actual parent, but all of his soul was reserved for you, after all.

"I can't live without you." It has only been several hours since you last saw him. Why is he acting like this?

Your efforts to escape accelerate when the razor-like point of his teeth poke against your neck. A harsh shriek then emerges from you when fangs protrude into your flesh. Something unfamiliar pumps through your system with rapid speed. It courses through your body and envelops every inch with profuse lethargy. The exhaustion satiates everything. It is all you can perceive. You slump against Miguel's toned physique like a wet noodle, to where he fully supports your weight with adoring fervor. Whispers of praise and gentle proclamations of love are the last thing you perceive before you drift off.

The dizzy sight of blurred city lights and bedsheets is what you see next. No Miguel, no bathrobes, no ensnaring embraces. Just you and your warped, distorted vision. You attempt to pull your head forward, only for gravity to fail you when you loll back onto the puffy pillows. When your hazy vision fades into something more distinct, you are finally able to discern some of your physical surroundings.

A bedroom that certainly does not belong to you is what you are met with. It is luxurious. Expensive. Lush. An incredible contrast to the small, decrepit bungalow you called home. The tall windows display the remarkable city from its highest point. The gentle, red-hued lamplight frames the late-night clouds drifting about and the planes soaring through the sky. You are laid against a circle-framed bed where several exorbitant comforters are draped around you. The robe you were adorned in hours ago was gone, too. Now, you are dressed in a high-quality, silken pajama set you do not recognize.

Your head relentlessly aches as you attempt to study the entire scene before you. The sensation is alike someone slamming a hammer into your brain. You bring your hand to your temple in a feeble attempt at easing the ache, but the freezing touch of the diamonds on your finger make you hiss from the stimulation. It channels a groan from your throat. The sound you make is simultaneously met with the distorted echo of a stranger's cooing. They purr out whispers of comfort and love, failing miserably in mending the fear stirring within you.

"Oh, button… You have no idea how long I have wanted this." Miguel fucking O'Hara. That revolting, candy-sweet voice belongs to no other than Miguel O'Hara.

He towers over you, as he always does. Dread tickles your bones and dances among the goosebumps trailing your flesh. Questions swarm within your brain as you attempt to scrutinize what you could have done to anger this man. You've heard through the grapevine how catastrophic his fury is, after all.

Contrary to popular belief, however, Miguel is not the flaming ball of rage he appears to be. Well, he at least isn't like that with you. Everyone else has clear evidence of the absolute rabid dog this man can be. It is evident in his greedy, adoring hands that have been stained red more times than he can count. It is evident in the warm pool of his brown irises that only appear blood-hued when you are not around. It is evident in absolutely everything he does.

This fact doesn't change at this moment, either. With the speed of a predator stalking prey, Miguel steadily climbs onto the bed and straddles you. You can only lay paralyzed and stare at the man above you in trepidation. With frail efforts, you are able to garner a sliver of mobility when you attempt to push him off. He resorts to grasping hold of your wrists and pinning them beside your head. So much for that plan. His abnormally sharp nails dig into your flesh; his nose pokes the bridge of yours when he bends down. His breath fans against your face and the familiar sight of his heart-shaped pupils is now overwhelming. Once again, his eyes are glued onto the one place they always seem to be: your lips. You can practically taste the need exuding from him.

A hologram then appears in front of his face. A monotone, robotic voice emanates into the silent room. "Your heart rate is 110 BPM. This has alarmingly exceeded your average BPM. If you are in danger, please press-"

The anger you heard rumors of fills him to the brim. Something daring to refrain him from drowning you in his love is equivalent to ordering a one-way ticket into the depths of Hell. A grunt and curse emerge from him. With a rushed flick of his finger, the hologram disappears as quickly as it came.

And without another second to perceive his actions, his lips are on yours. It is an almost god-like fervor he possesses. Your relentless struggling flies over the head of the absolute beast on top of you. It is instead met with the sharp prick you felt the night before on your lips. The same sensations flood through your veins, once again. This time, however, you are still able to regain consciousness and the small dosage succeeds in immobilizing your body. Now, you are entirely susceptible to whatever your kidnapper intends to have you endure.

Meanwhile, Miguel is utterly convinced he has left Earth and is now resting on Cloud-Nine. The unadulterated affection and sheer giddiness derived from your kiss bubble in his chest like a fizzy, sugar-ridden soda. He even considers he had somehow gotten drunk on the beverage, even though there is no physical indication of the beverage even existing. The way his heart batters like a savage animal locked in a cage is enough evidence to convince him otherwise, though. This kiss was only done to debilitate you, yes, but he would be a fool if he believed he could hold himself back from indulging in this moment.

Forehead pressed against yours, he speaks with breathless tremor. "I..." He gulps, "I got you another gift, button."

Once Miguel deems himself satisfied, he laps up the drops of blood that cascade from your lips with bone-chilling glee. Reluctantly, he withdraws from the close contact. His attention then begrudgingly drifts from you and to something on the bedside table. You are unable to turn your head and identify his actions, you can only lay on this bed in complete, paralyzed submission.

In his hands is a bowl of your favorite ice cream. "You never finished your bowl at the parlor. Remember?" You are still unsure of where he learned this was your preferred flavor.

When you expect him to bring the plastic, pastel-pink spoon to your lips, he does the opposite. Instead, he feeds himself a spoonful of the ice cream. Then, much to your horror, he presses his thumb to your chin and indulges in another kiss. His tongue slithers into your mouth, to where he coerces you to consume the sugary substance directly from him. Like a fucking mother bird. Your moans of discomfort are mistaken for sounds of pleasure. The noise elicits a muffled grunt from Miguel that vibrates against your lips. After all, the guttural groans protruding from him are enough to inform you he is enjoying this far more than you are.

"You can't just walk into my life, take my heart, then try and leave." Another quick, yet deep, kiss is forced upon you before he continues. "I won't let you. I can’t let you…”

A mess of ice cream, saliva, and stained blood paint your abused lips. Miguel backs away from your mouth and the separation provides you ephemeral comfort. For the umpteenth time, he hastily scoops another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and fervently forces it into yours. It is absolute torture.

Any attempt at pushing this monster away from you and puking out any trace of him left in you was entirely fruitless. The spongy muscle of his tongue continues to explore your mouth with more heaps of ice cream. Miguel kisses, slurps, and guzzles all remnants of you he can garner. You wonder if he had bought the entire parlor with how much ice cream he appeared to have.

"I love you too fucking much..." All you can do is let him relish in the euphoria he feels upon his actions and pray to God that it will end soon.

This is what life looked like for the following months. Miguel forcing his love onto you the way he forced ice cream down your throat.

And it is what life looked like when he lost you. Miguel forcing the universe to adhere to his needs the way he forced you into being his lover.

October 17th. It was all his fault.

He remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. It was a frigid Saturday morning. Miguel dropped Gabriella off at school for soccer practice, not bothering to wave or kiss his daughter goodbye, once again. Instead, he leaves quickly to purchase an expensive necklace and another order of your favorite ice cream to surprise you. Diamonds and sugar are the best way to someone's heart, right?

The ice cream falls from his hands and splats against the ground when he finds you. The diamonds are now chipped and dented from falling onto the hardwood floors. His breath is lodged in his chest as if his lungs had been crushed beneath the weight of the sight that stood before him. His eyes are blown wide in confused horror as if the mere action of blinking would kill him in his stance.

You lay on the floor of his office.

Lifeless. Cold. Dead.

The vibrant spider webs he used to tie the ring to your hand had conducted an electric flow from the watch he had been working on and into your body.

The electricity you made him feel was now the reason you were dead.

However, Miguel refuses to see this. He brings your body into his embrace, choosing to ignore the lack of reciprocation and silent pulse. You are just asleep, you are just asleep, you are just asleep. Tears overwhelm his vision, hiccups penetrate his chest, and unruly sobs fill the air. Still, he clings to you and persists in what he is desperate to believe as the truth. You are just asleep. You're always so sleepy, it is just too adorable! Maybe some ice cream will wake you up. Right? Right...?

Incessant demands to open your eyes fill the air, which soon turns into a series of relentless, incoherent pleads. Miguel webs the battered necklace and spilled ice cream into his hands. He ensnares the jewelry around your neck, a choked compliment of how beautiful you look barely able to escape through unruly sobs. His trembling hands then bring a spoonful of your favorite ice cream to your lips, ushering you to open your mouth and let him feed you. The tears staining his vision make it hard to see what he is doing. He loses the mobility of the spoon, to where it then clatters against the ground.

Large hands then cling to your face as he forcefully shakes you and calls out your name.

"WAKE UP! Y/N, WAKE UP!" The desperate, thunderous roar could have torn the world asunder with its violent force. It surely would have woken you up, had you been alive. Miguel knows this and it destroys him.

Miguel grasps the watch on top of the desk, you still in his arms. The desire to absolutely destroy the very thing that took you from him was almost feral. When he thought of the intentions he originally had upon creating the machine, however, he sought against it. Clicking the metal walls back into place, he taps a few buttons in the correct order. The room is then adorned in neon colors that frame a pitch-black portal. From here, Miguel stands to his feet with you in his arms and ventures through.

He abandons his daughter, abandons his life, abandons everything.

When he first learned of the existence of the Multiverse through his job at Alchemax, he fantasized about creating the perfect world where you and him can be together. He crafted it from scratch, but it still needed a few more knots tightened and screws fastened before he could have given it to you. Blinding sunshine and vibrant blue skies; healthy green grass and a single house on a hill. The clouds drifting in the sky resemble a myriad of different shapes, where Miguel had hoped you and him could do cloud-gazing with one another. The flowers planted in the soil all contrast in variety and color, where Miguel had hoped you could make him a personal flower crown like you did for his daughter. And of course, an invisible force surrounds the small plot of land to ensure you won't go wandering.

Where it can be just you and him. Where you can never escape his love. Where you can be happy together.

Things are much different now. He was too late. Miguel can only stand here with your lifeless body in his arms, surrounded by the clean home he intended on spending forever in. The satiating grief had turned into desolate numbness. He doesn’t waste another second before taking action. Laying your body into the bed you two were intended to share, he assures himself you are just taking an afternoon nap. Then, he begins to forage the home for something, anything, that will wake you from your slumber. Like sleeping beauty, he desperately muses to himself.

Within several weeks, your poor body had been strapped to the bed with numerous tubes and IVs protruding into your body. Miguel stands by a desk, a myriad of holograms displaying information that would be incomprehensible to even the smartest of people. Eye bags sit heavy on his face from restless nights; his eyes are swollen and red from the lack of sleep.

He doesn't care if he has to kill every person in the Multiverse, endure the most gut-wrenching pain known to man, or even sell his soul to the devil himself. He will do anything to see you open your eyes again. Even if it is just to slap him across the face or to scream at him for taking you from your old life, he still needs it. You'd be home. And that is all Miguel could ever want.

However, he was so occupied in doing everything within his power to bring you back to him, that he hadn't realized just how uneducated he was about the Multiverse. When he wakes up after falling asleep at his desk to the strange sound of something sizzling, he looks and finds the furniture around the room begin to glitch. Almost as if he was living in a simulation. The closer the malfunctions accelerate to you, the quicker he is to take every device plunged into your body and bring you into his arms.

The foundations of the home vibrate beneath his feet, and he then sprints from the bedroom and down the stairs. A violent crash echoes from behind him when he finally escapes through the front door. He doesn't dare to look behind him, he only holds your body closer to him and sprints forward.

A few taps to his watch and a portal unfolds just several yards from him. When he was a mere footstep from escaping with you, the force of the destruction snatched you from his embrace. He tries to fight against the energy pulling him into the gateway he summoned and practically flails his body around like a dying insect. His desperate efforts to retrieve you are of no use when his strength is overpowered by his own machine. Inevitably, he falls into the portal.

A harsh cry of "NO!" flees from his mouth before he finds himself back in Nueva York. Alone.

The world Miguel had put his blood, sweat, and tears into creating had crumbled right before his eyes. And right in the middle of the mess is where the only thing he has ever loved is.

As the story of all Spider-People goes, Miguel uses every bit of energy derived from his grief. He, however, does not use it for the sake of others or to ensure no one ever feels the pain of losing a loved one. Instead, he vows to study more of the Multiverse and create technology that can bring your body back to him. He was so close to waking you up! He just needed a little more time!

During his endeavors, he soon meets Jessica Drew, and all delusions he claimed to be the truth shattered like glass onto concrete. Here, Miguel learns of the "Y/N-Curse," as she so called it. How every Spider-Person is destined to fall hopelessly in love with a version of Y/N, only to lose them in the end. She tells him of how she was in love with her own version of them, too, during her teenage years, which made Miguel spark with territorial rage. After beating around the push for too long, what she tells him causes his entire body to go rigid with shock.

Everyone was so used to the stoic, cold, terrifying Miguel O'Hara. Only Jessica Drew had seen that exterior disintegrate when he learned your body had been destroyed and it was impossible to retrieve you. His absolute worst nightmare had manifested into reality and nothing could ever conquer the amount of pain he feels now.

You are gone.

Forever.

If it wasn't for Jessica's high-speed, spider-induced senses, Miguel would have succeeded in killing her and then himself right in that moment.

From here, he agreed to Jessica's inquiries about starting a society of Spider-People all across the Multiverse. If not for others, then for you. Even if it is not the same Y/N from his reality, any version of you does not deserve to suffer. Still, to live every day watching millions of versions of you die through the numerous holograms sat on his desk tortures him in ways he cannot fathom. It is killing him, but when it is for you, he will do absolutely anything.

He will find a way to stop this curse. Even if it is the last thing he ever does.

With that, your life was over. May 16th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara met the only thing that ever mattered to him. And October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost them.

A year has now passed since Miguel lost you and your story on Earth-1610 has kicked into full gear.

March 30th, 2023. Roughly a month has passed since you began these tutoring sessions. One hour every Tuesday and Thursday. That is all it was; that was all it was supposed to be.

Within the short expanse of 18 years, Miles Morales has never felt such exhilaration then when he is with you. Life has exploded in various hues of rapture, enchantment, and those all-too-familiar sensations of goosebumps blooming across his skin. When he miscalculates an equation on purpose to hear your euphonious voice correct him; when he feigns frustration to feel the warmth of your comfort and reassurance — oh, there is nothing that could ever equate to these newfound emotions. These two hours a week have become the highlight of his life and will forever remain so, he is sure of it.

3:27 PM flickers in neon green on Miles' wristwatch. 33 minutes until he gets to reunite with you. The love of his life, his soon-to-be spouse, the future parent of his beautiful children. It is impossible to contain the effervescent excitement as he sits here atop the numerous pillars adorning the Brooklyn Bridge.

A sketchbook sits in his hand, a technical pen in the other. Only several more empty pages are available, as the other ones have all been painted with your face. More sketchbooks contained with similar drawings are hidden in his bedroom back home. The amount of money his mother has spent on sketchbooks this month has become alarming. Rio is starting to edge over suspicion when his excuses of "I lost it" and "I spilled water on it" have been wrung dry.

And the drawings on these pages are a picture-perfect definition of lovesick. Sketches of what you would wear on your wedding day, illustrations of you and him on adorable dates, and of course, the alarmingly accurate depictions of you. Every detail of your form has become muscle memory now; every feature and "blemish" of yours is imprinted in Miles' brain. His foot taps with anticipation against the stone surface. Oh, he cannot wait to see you again.

Hastily, he shoves the art equipment into his cluttered backpack. A silver web sprouts from his wrist when he jumps from the skyscraper-high pillar. He soars through the city and hums to one of the numerous love songs on his playlist dedicated to you. Swinging past several graffiti pieces he's made of your face and ignoring a poor woman whose purse was being stolen, Miles soon makes it through his bedroom window.

At record speed, he rids himself of his sweaty suit and dresses himself in the best articles of clothing from his closet. A pair of jeans he hadn't doodled on, a Brooklyn Nets jersey over a white tee, and a pair of freshly-bought Air Jordans. For a final touch, a spritz of cologne he stole borrowed from a Tom Ford store. He would wear a tailored suit, but his request to have such was rejected by his parents. You needed to see how serious he was about you. After all, who knows how many others are in line to snag your heart? Miles' body erupts with chills at the mere thought.

Patching up the final efforts of his outfit in the mirror, he hears the front door creak open and the elated tone of his mother escapes through the thin walls. Then, there is your voice. And in our entire universe, there is absolutely nothing that can compare to the sheer music of your voice. He takes a deep breath to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision, before finally leaving his bedroom. When he turns the corner and makes eye contact with you, the sweet shock it brings to his senses is almost enough to make him collapse onto the kitchen tile.

"Hey, Miles." He certainly would not mind waking up to that every day.

"Y-Y/N! It's good to see you! No, great, actually. It-It's great to see you! I'm happy you're here... Very happy, heh..." The fact he is able to muster a single syllable in your presence is nothing short of a miracle.

A mere 20 minutes has now passed since you have entered the Morales residence. You and Miles are sat at the dining room table, surrounded by a mess of highlighters, study guides, and practice quizzes. And this boy could win an Oscar with how well he plays dumb. Miscalculating equations, picking wrong answers, and misspelling simple words. With the few questions he purposely answers correctly, every "Nice job!" and "You got it!" has him staring at you as if he had looked into the night sky for the very first time. Oh, the sight of your sunlit smile and the sound of your mellifluous voice are seconds away from making him melt into a puddle.

Rio then enters the room with her phone in hand, much to Miles' dismay. As he is about to groan at her presence and demand through clenched teeth for her to leave, she then speaks.

"Y/N/N! Your boyfriend's on the phone! He said he had some trouble getting a hold of you." A knowing smirk is sat on her lips. However, there is also a gleam of disappointment over the fact she couldn't have someone as amazing as you join the Morales family.

With zero romance in your work-induced life, you are puzzled upon receiving this information. However, you then playfully roll your eyes, assuming it was a friend of yours playing a stupid prank. This action, however, told Miles all that he needed to know. The person on the other line has been granted the absolute privilege of calling you theirs.

And his world shatters.

With a "Thank you, Mrs. Morales," you take the phone and leave to the other room. Unbeknownst to you, you leave behind a downhearted mother and a devastated boy trying desperately to gather the pieces of his broken heart. His agony is almost palpable, which Eio takes notice of immediately. She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. She then informs him that there will be so many other fish in the sea the young boy will meet in his life, but she is oblivious to the weight of her son's devotion.

There is no one after you; there is nothing if it can't be you.

Meanwhile, you sing out an amused "hellooooo?" into the phone's speaker. You say your friend's name, exclaiming of how you know this is them and that this stunt they pulled against the infatuated student you tutor was cruel.

You wait for their witty response, to where there is none. All you can hear is the sound of someone's trembling breaths. You say their name in question a few more times, inquiring if the creepy mood was just another silly joke. When all you are met with is sheer silence accompanied by heavy breathing, you bid your friend an annoyed goodbye and end the call.

When you return to the dining room, you are muddled to find there is no one there. Before you are able to call out anyone's name in question, a loud and sharp bang! shakes the entire house. You can hear Rio's muffled voice through the walls. Although you are unable to discern her speech, the perceptible worry in her tone shakes you to your core. What has happened while you were gone? You follow the sounds, only to find her at Miles' bedroom, begging him to unlock the door and let her in. Within said bedroom, it sounds as though a tornado had formed within the small expanse and was destroying anything within its path.

Rio sees you in her peripheral and is swift with taking her phone back, ignoring your worried inquiries, and guiding you back to the dining room. A forced smile is planted on her face as she advises you to pack your things since Miles has suddenly "fallen sick." She begins to pack your things for you and of course, you aid her in these efforts, but she is far more frantic than you are. She slaps several dollar bills in your hand and when you try to inform her this was triple the pay she is meant to give you, your efforts fall on deaf ears. Rio then puts your backpack on you as if you were her child on your first day of Kindergarten.

With a gentle hand on your back, she leads you out the door. On the way, she gives you thanks and apologizes profusely for the unexpected trouble. Before you can reply, the door is slammed in your face. You are left in the dark expanse of the hallway, wondering what on Earth had just occurred. As much as you wish to help, you know there is nothing you can do at this current moment. You consider sending them a gift basket later on to aid Miles through his unexpected "sickness," before returning home as Rio advised you to.

You leave, blissfully unaware of what events are taking place within the Morales household.

When you had left to take the phone call, that is when disaster struck. With tears seeping down his cheeks, Miles abruptly stood from the dining room and stormed off to his room, his mother close behind. He slammed the door shut, locking it before proceeding to take out every sliver of emotion within his body on whatever helpless matter sat closest to him.

Miles' room became a complete disaster within the matter of seconds.

Action figures have been dismembered, posters are torn down, and art equipment has been destroyed. The dents in the wall from what he has thrown about are accompanied by the fist-shaped hole he left in the wall. A window has been shattered, his bed has been upturned, and his desk has been split in half. All emotions barreling through his body wreaked havoc on anything within his path.

His clenched fists form moon-crescent shapes into his palm; his chest rises and falls rapidly with infuriated breaths. His entire body is shaking with misery, rage, and horror. He feels everything at once and it is destroying him. The sobs being pulled from his chest feel like knife wounds through his heart. The tears falling from his cheeks paint his shirt wet and stain his hands from consistently attempting to wipe them away.

How could he not have known?

Through bleary vision, he glances at the door of his closet which has suffered immensely from his havoc, with violent indents and chunks of wood protruding out. Miles then drags his exhausted body across the room.

He enters the closet and locks the door behind him.

How could he not have known?

Just outside all of this destruction, you walk through the bristling streets of Brooklyn. A sharp chill sits on the back of your neck, almost as if someone was hot on your tail. It has you whipping around to verify no sudden danger was there to welcome you to your demise. Usually, walks through the city are calming to you. Tonight, for whatever reason, was different. You excuse it as still feeling perturbed from what had happened moments before with Miles, but the sensation still lingers.

Swinging from building to building behind you is Miguel O'Hara.

He had sat on the top of a neighboring building with a 2023-modeled phone in his hand. Hearing your voice, after a full year of being without the euphonious melody, had his heart halting in his chest. Even after you ended the call, he still sat there. Flabbergasted. Stunned. Euphoric.

The plan he conjured up was swift and flawed. Anyone in their right mind would be devastated to hear your heart belonged to another. Especially Miles Morales. Acknowledging this, he ushered the boy into a full mental breakdown right before you. The sight would surely terrify you, leading you to run away and leave him in the dust of your past. However, this was not the case. Instead, you were concerned about his well-being and wished to stay. The sharp envy coursing through Miguel led him to chuck the phone against the concrete surface of the roof, a few of the shattered remains piercing his skin.

What prevents him from tearing out Miles' throat, scooping you into his arms, and taking you far away is the state of the Multiverse. He refuses to make the same mistake he made a year ago; he refuses to put you in any sort of danger ever again.

For now, he'll create a ridge between you and the boy you're destined to fall in love with. Forging messages, fabricating lies, causing another childlike meltdown of millions. Miguel will do everything in his power to ensure you feel nothing but contempt for this boy while protecting you from your impending death in the process.

He just hopes nobody else in the Spider Society finds out you are alive, as well.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ YOU SAID I WAS THE MOST EXOTIC FLOWER,

HOLDING ME TIGHT IN OUR FINAL HOUR . . . ❞

pinterest owns my heart so i couldn't stop myself. here, here, here, here, and here are some examples/inspiration i used for miguel's penthouse.

gif creds :: miguel.

tag list :: @honey-beeuwu, @thel0v3hashira143, @cailey1011, @mickxxstxvxns-blog, @flaming-vulpix, @puthypirate42069, @dolliemoons, @mikalovesnoodles, @explosiongamora, @thegalacticnacho091, @brinleighsstuff, @shinsou-hoetoshi, @uselessbutinteresting, @amortentor, @fried-milkfish, @officiallypoopoo, @lu-lupe, @belladonnashifter, @forgottenbynature, @marooseshawnash, @funtimefoxybae, @ethnicbratz, @painpainflyaway, @shadepelt4673, @vivacioussaint, @palepettycharmer, @rqdior, @clownwiki, @clever-username96, @bisoudoll, @darlingdontwe, @naiomiwinchester, @weskennedysgirl, @chubbuart, @simpfo, @neytirisarrow, @leilani04, @lizzymizzy-blogg,

@sublimesoulmagazine, @minimari415, @hcmay, @jinuaei, @altusha, @daisygirlll, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @islandgyal06, @the-hufflebird-girl, @laucoeurs, @nepherawinchester18307, @tiredao3reader, @decadentlawyerapricotcowboy, @kitisb0red, @gabiacee, @reneuv, @krentkova19, @ayupfrogg, @vita-nire, @emmbny, @realifezompire, @hiddencatails, @vincentluvr444, @reneuv, @coolpolicellama, @3zae-zae3, @uselessbutinteresting, @imcool-rat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @theclassycandy, @mialetty, @johnny-pie, @4ng3l-0n-34rth, @twobluejeans, @dazaisimp17, @spacemonkeyfitz, @dressycobra7, @rainbowstar, @darksidescorner, @day-dreams-posts, @superiorbyfar, @thel0v3hashira143, & @cailey1011,

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lesservillain · 6 days ago

Text

strange lights masterlist

summary: new faces, old home.

wc: 7.8k

“I’d never given much thought to how I would die. But dying in the place of someone I love sounds like a good way to go.”

Hawkins is cursed.

If the countless murders and freak accidents over the years weren’t enough to convince a person, the perpetual overcast that deprived most of the town’s occupants of proper vitamin D should be enough to keep anyone out. The stark contrast in the sunny sky as you pass the Welcome to Hawkins sign would probably unnerve anyone traveling through. But you knew better, having lived here for the first 10 years of your life.

“Well, this is it.”

After driving what felt like an eternity into the woods, your father pulls up next to his police truck at the cabin that he calls a home. It was pitiful, but you could tell where repairs had been made, or rather an attempt was there. You wondered if they were rushed at the news of your arrival. You felt bad for only giving your dad a two week notice, but to be fair, so did your mother when she told you that her new husband was being stationed in Japan at the beginning of the month. David offered to let you move with them, but you’d declined, even if you weren’t too terrified of being in a plane over the Pacific ocean for any amount of time, you’d rather stay in a place you had somewhat of an attachment to. And if your dad had any objections to you coming to live with him he never made them apparent.

Climbing out from the beat up two seater truck, you stretch wide, twisting at the waist to loosen your joints after the long car ride. “Wow,” you swoon sarcastically, pointing a thumb over your shoulder, “didn’t know you could afford such luxury on a police chief’s salary, Hopper.”

“Har Har,” he says, pulling your bags from the back of his truck. He walks past you, voice echoing into the open woods surrounding you, “It’s got air conditioning and I pick up dish out here, so it’s good enough for me.”

It doesn’t take long to get the little luggage you brought with you into the empty room. Well, it was almost empty, say for a punching bag hanging in the corner.

“Thought you might get bored,” your dad laughs to himself, lips tugging at the corners on your own face as you shake your head. Before getting into your bags, your dad insists on going into town to eat. “Benny said he’s excited to see you.”

“Whose Benny?” you ask, brows pinched.

“He owns the diner in town. Do, uh, do me a favor and pretend you remember him, okay?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Sure. Anything I need to pretend to remember?”

He just laughs, pushing at your shoulder playfully. Once at the diner, it’s not only Benny who remembers you, but apparently half the diner knows you. Guess it comes with your dad being the police chief, and you did your best to fake interest in what every other party had to say to you. When you finally got to take a seat, you looked at your dad with wide eyes, mouthing “what the hell?” He gave you an innocent shrug, attention being taken away at the sound of the diner door opening.

Loud laughter disrupts the atmosphere as a group of four younger adults enter the building. You crane your head around to get a look at them. Three of them were well dressed, two guys and a girl, looking like they had just come from a golf course. Their fourth member stood out in the group, plain clothes and quiet disposition a stark contrast to the others. You turn back around, rolling your eyes trying to avoid the group. However, your dad had other plans, waving them over to your table.

You look at him bewildered. “Dad,” you whisper yell, “Stop it!” But he ignores you, continuing until the four of them are standing at the end of your table. You keep your eyes down, trained on the mustard yellow colour of the table top.

“Hey, Harrington, you remember my daughter right? You two were at the same elementary school. Sweetie, you remember Steve.” You give him a look of annoyance before looking up at them. The one your dad says is Steve is standing front and center, clearly the leader of this little group. His hair is done perfectly, blue striped polo looks like it was ironed before leaving the house, and his slight tan tells you he’s probably part of the uber wealthy country club built on the edge of the town in Loch Nora.

“Hey, Hopper,” he says, greeting your dad with a handshake. He looks smug, like his dad has probably paid yours off once for stupid things he’s done in his high school days. When he finally looks at you, you’re fully expecting him to only spare you a quick glance. Instead, he freezes in place, hazel eyes fixed on yours. You squirm a bit under his stare, clearing your throat.

“Uh, I don’t know if I remember,” your tone is unsure as you try to read him, “I went to Center, not Loch Elementary.” When you look at the other members of the group, you notice that they are all looking at Steve with wide eyes. Then they all look at you. Frankly, it’s very unsettling and you really wish they would go away.

“Oh, well, maybe you remember Jonathan then,” Your dad leans back to catch the attention of the shyer man, “Joyce had you at Loch, right Johnny?”

When you make eye contact with Jonathan, you notice Steve step between the two of you, looking back at Jonathan. You couldn’t see Steve’s face, but it must have been scary enough that all Jonathan could do to respond was shake his head.

“Hey, Tommy, didn’t you say you had a thing you needed to do,” Steve says, not taking his eyes off Jonathan.

“Uh, yeah, Carol and I need to get to, uh, a dinner with her parents. Right, Carol?”

“Yeah, we better get going. Nice to see you, Chief Hopper….”

The four of them hastily exit the diner. “Oh, yeah, see you around!” His face goes from bright to confused as he watches them leave through the window.

“What the hell was that?” you laugh, ducking your head into the table. Your dad does the same, eyes as big as yours, “I have no idea. I was just trying to help you make some friends.”

“I think I’ll pass on them, Dad.”

When you return to the cabin later, your dad steps in front of the truck, leaning against the hood. Watching you as you get out, you hesitate, getting out of the truck slowly. “Whaaaat’s that face for?” you ask, suspicious of his glare.

“Oh, you know, I was just thinking that you’re gonna get awfully bored sitting in the cabin all by yourself all day,” he straightens up, rubbing his hand along his stubbly chin.

You’re really confused now. “You said you get TV out here, right? I think I’ll be okay.”

He lifts his hands up in defense, “Alright, alright, you’ve twisted my arm. No need you yell at me and make me feel bad. Here”

You almost miss when he tosses the keys to the truck your way. Looking between him and the keys, you can’t help how wide you smile at the gift. “Dad, oh my god, are you sure?”

He nods his head, mozing a few steps to stand in front of you. “Of course. It’s not a nice new car, but I figured it would help you get around until you could find something you really liked.”

You do a little happy dance before launching yourself at him, giving him a big hug as you thank him over and over. “Thank you so much, dad,” you say, looking up at him. He gives you a good squeeze before you pull away.

Rain pitter pattered softly against the row of windows behind you. Today has been slow, much like the other four days since your first day at Barnes and Noble. Wanting something slow as you get used to being in Hawkins, your dad suggested the bookstore, saying that it wasn’t the most popular place in town. The manager, Bob Newby, hired you on the spot, stating he needed someone over eighteen to train as a manager since the old one left for college. He offered above minimum wage so you accepted.

While you stood at the computer working on some modules, three teenage boys ran into the store looking like they were on a mission.

“Hi, I’m Dustin,” one of them greeted you, offering you a hand shake. You oblige, taking his hand in yours as you introduce yourself. “And are my friends Lucas and Will,” he points his thumb over his shoulder to two boys his age. They both wave, looking at you with anticipation.

“Nice to meet you. Is there something I can help you with?” you look between the three of them.

Dustin perks up, “Ah, yes. As a matter of fact there is fair maiden.”

You physically cringe at the pet name, trying to hide the pain in your face.

“Oh, sorry,” he corrects, “yeah, we’re looking for the new D&D starter set? It says online that it’s supposed to come out on the 15th, but some Barnes & Nobles have it in stock already.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “A whaty-what set?” you chuckle. The boy's shoulders deflate at your words.

“Never mind, thank you ma’am,” Dustin says, turning to the other two.

“See, told you they wouldn’t have it yet,” Lucas says to Dustin, “Let’s just try again in a couple days, man.”

“It was at least worth a shot,” Will says shrugging.

You watch as they make their way towards the exit, feeling bad seeing them so dejected. They’re about to walk out, but stop when a man enters through the doors. Their faces light up, and they greet him with hugs. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but they’re the only patrons in the store at the moment so it’s pretty much impossible not to hear them.

“Hey, man, welcome back,” Dustin squeals, bouncing with excitement, “How was the trip with the family?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you take in the person they are talking to. The first thing you notice is his hair, a straight out of the 80s Van Halen wannabe cut that you’re sure stopped being in style by the 90s. His outfit seems inspired from the same era as his hair; Leather jacket paired with a denim vest covered in patches and pins reminiscent of metalheads from years ago. The tight, black ripped jeans paired with black combat boots seem to be the only articles of his clothing that were current with today’s fashion. You couldn’t exactly make his face out from the distance, but you could admit that his voice had a certain silkiness as he talked.

“Henderson, Sinclair,” he pauses for a moment,” Byers. Good to see you boys,” the words fell off his tongue, affecting you in a way that they honestly shouldn’t. “We had a pretty good time. Saw some family friends and got to try some good food.”

“Nice, nice,” Dustin nods. He straightens up for a moment, “You’re not here for the starter set are you?”

“I am,” the man responds.

“Shit, so were we. They don’t have it though. The girl doesn’t even know what we're talking about,” he responds defeated.

This is when you get to see the man’s face. And, oh no, he’s hot. Big brown eyes meet yours as he turns in your direction. He’s smiling at first, but the longer he looks at you, the more…confused his face becomes? He fully turns away from the boys, making his way towards you, eyes not leaving yours. The counter being the only thing between you as he leans forward, his eyes flickering between yours. Why the hell does this keep happening?

“Can I help you?” you ask, leaning back a tad. He blinks, straightening up again.

“Yeah,” he draws out, “I’m looking for a new dungeons and dragons module. It’s a set that comes with a book and a few other items. Have you gotten anything like that in stock recently?”

You go to open your mouth, but his head suddenly snaps to the side. Following his line of sight, you see your coworker, Eden, making her way back from the break room.

“Oh, hey, Eden,” you call, getting her attention. She does a fast walk over to you, giving the man in front of you a once over as he takes her place next to you. “Hey, these guys are looking for something and I don’t really know what they’re talking about.”

She sighs, “What do you want, Munson?”

The man smiles cheekily, “Oh, you know what I’m here for. Just another recommendation for a My Chemical Romance CD to listen to.”

“Fuck off, what are you really here for,” Eden snaps. You let out a giggle at the interaction unfolding in front of you. The man's eyes look to you, and his smile widens to his eyes, showing off his dimples.

“There’s supposed to be a new Dungeons and Dragons book coming out. Do you have it? Please say you have it,” Lucas steps in front of the man, clearly exasperated as he places his hands on the counter.

“Oh, yeah your dumb nerd game,” you catch her looking at you before subtly rolling her eyes, “We got a box in the back yesterday but we’re not supposed to put it out until, like, Friday or something.”

She might as well have told them they all won the lottery the way their faces lit up.

“Please, Eden, you gotta let us get one,” Dustin begs, pushing Lucas to the side.

“Yeah, pleeeeeease, Eden,” Will joins in now, pushing between the two other boys, “We promise we won’t tell Bob.”

Eden looks at them for a moment. She looks at you, clearly annoyed, “What do you think?”

Now all eyes are on you, making you feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Uh, I mean, one book isn’t going to hurt, right?” you look to Eden, hoping that was the right answer and that this wasn’t a test to keep your job. Her expression is deadpad, until a smirk grows on her face.

“Okay,” she says simply, grabbing a box cutter from under the counter and making her way to the back room. The boys all whoop and holler, following her to the door to wait.

That leaves you with the man from earlier. With the stress out of the way, you’re able to really take in his features. He was even more attractive up close, impossibly beautiful if you think too much about it. His skin looked smooth, like stone, the sprinkle of little freckles here being the only indicator that he’s not the statue of Adonis dressed in punk attire.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” his head rolls as his attention is returned to you, a knowing smile plastered across his face.

Blush dusts your cheeks when you realize you've been caught ogling. Trying to hide your face in embarrassment, the carpet between your feet is suddenly very interesting. “Sorry,” you say to the floor. There’s a beat of silence. When you look up again, he looks perturbed. “I mean it, I’m sorry for staring…”

Brown eyes lock with yours, features softening as he speaks, “No, no, you’re good, I, just…” he trails off for a moment. Shaking his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, he takes a step closer to the counter. “Sorry, I should probably introduce myself. Name’s Eddie.”

You introduce yourself to him and he playfully looks you up and down, “Shit, you’re Hoppers kid? Probably best if I stay away from you then.”

“Why’s that?” you tilt your head, matching his playful tone.

“I’m not exactly the most favored in this town,” he leans into the counter, and you catch the glint of the ringed fingers on his hand, “Whole family isn’t really cared for. But, I tend to make things worse.”

“Why, do all of you refuse to leave the 80s behind?” you ask as you nod at his hair. He runs his tongue in his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself from smiling, failing miserably as your eyebrows raise at his silence.

“No,” he taps a finger against the counter before standing up again, “Because they think we’re “freaks” for keeping to ourselves most of the time. Apparently it's a crime not to participate in small town drama.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s like, the first rule of small towns,” the corner of your mouth quirked, “If you don’t wanna be part of the drama, you’re just going to be the drama. Those are the rules.”

“Ah, I see, I must have missed that part of the book when we moved here. My bad.”

You go open your mouth, but Dustin suddenly runs into Eddie at full force with what you presume to be the desired book in hand.

“Ooowwwwww,” Dustin says rubbing his arm, looking at Eddie with a grimace, “Sheesh, are you wearing armor under your jacket or something?”

Eddie scoffs, moving away from the boy, “No, you’re just soft compared to me, Henderson.” Eddie raises his arm to flex, and you swear you hear a seam burst somewhere in his jacket.

While you ring the boys out, they spend the entire time trying to explain the game to you. There’s an attempt to recruit you into their club, but you decline their offer.

“I promise I would not be fun to play with,” you reassure them.

“Mmmm, I doubt that,” Eddie chimes.

“Don’t listen to him, his only goal is to make us die in the game,” Lucas says.

“That’s not my goal. You guys just always manage to get yourselves killed.”

“Okay, okay,” Eden waves her hands around to get their attention, “I’m tired of hearing all the dork talk. Take your nerd book and go before I change my mind.”

“But I already paid--” Dustin starts.

Eden gives him a look, pointing for the door. The boys jump, scrambling for the door as they say their quick goodbyes. Eddie chuckles as he watches the boys go, turning back to you once they’re out of sight. He goes to say something, but Eden speaks up before he can.

“Hey, you should probably go take your lunch break now,” she says to you with arms crossed. Her eyes shift over to Eddie, giving him a look.

“Oh, okay,” you nod. Before you go, you turn to Eddie, giving him a warm smile, “It was nice to meet you.”

He returns the sentiments, “Same to you.”

When you walk towards the break room, you look back at the counter, seeing Eddie and Eden talking.

“Hey dad,” you greet as you walk through the front door of the cabin, kicking off your shoes.

“Hey, how was work?” Your dad stands in the kitchen, wearing a pink apron and blaring hard rock from the little radio that hung on the underside of the cabinet. You gawk at him for a moment, before collecting yourself.

“Uh, it was good,” you place your bag on the coat hook, walking over to where he stands in the small kitchen, “What, uh, what are you doing, pops?”

“Oh, I invited the Byers over for dinner,” he said as if it was obvious. Your nose scrunched up at the smell of something burning.

“That’s supposed to be edible?” you ask, peering into the pan, unsure of what you were looking at exactly.

There’s a pause, both of you standing there for a beat. Then he reaches forward to flip off the oven. “I’ll order a pizza.”

The Byers car pulls up just as the pizza guy leaves. You watch as your dad runs around like a mad man picking things up around the cabin. You stop him mid step, grabbing the apron and pulling it over his head. He nods in a silent thanks and continues to run around. The knock on the front door breaks him of his frenzy, practically running to get to the door. It’s actually cute to watch your dad light up when he greets his friend.

When Joyce lays her eyes on you, she’s instantly squealing and throwing her hands out for an embrace. You wrap her up in a hug that hasn’t changed since you were little. One of the only adults you remember, Joyce was a staple in your life even when your parents were going through their divorce.

“Oh my god, look at you,” she does that mom thing where she puts her hands on your arms and gives you a good look over, “Goodness you’re so grown up now! I remember watching you when you were just a tiny little girl. Oh, here, you remember Jonathan,” she turns and places a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. He gives you a one sided smile, not looking at you directly.

“Uh, yeah, we already ran into each other,” he says with a nod.

“And you might remember Will. He’s changed since you’ve seen him, though. He was just a toddler back then.” She moves over to let her other son in, and you’re almost as shocked as he is when you see one of the boys that came in the store earlier. You both give each other a look with a grin.

“Yeah, we’ve ran into each other already, too,” Will says.

“Oh, good,” Joyce beams, “I guess that means we can save some time and go ahead and eat. Hop, I got some soda on sale at work. Jonathan, do you have the bags?”

Jonathan lifts two bags that have clearly been in his hands the whole time, Will and him looking at each other with a snicker. “Here, mom.”

Dinner consists of Joyce asking you all about living in Arizona, how your mom is, if she likes traveling with her boyfriend, if you’ve made any friends.

“Jonathan, you should see if Steve will let her come to one of your little get-togethers.”

“Mom,” he his brows raise into his bangs as he looks at her, “You know why that’s not a good idea.”

“Oh, come on, you guys can keep yourselves under control for one night,” she says, taking a bite of her pizza slice.

“No, it’s okay,” you chime in, “I don’t want to make anything weird. I don’t think I made a very good first impression with Steve when I first met him.”

Jonathan and Will both sputter out a laugh, and Joyce gives them little smacks on the arms to get them to stop.

“What’s so funny?” Your dad chuckles with the boys.

“Nothing,” Will says, looking at you, then back to his pizza.

Jonathan straightens up, grin on his face as he speaks, “Um, just want to say Steve, like, doesn’t hate you. He just…ate something bad for breakfast and was in a bad mood or whatever.”

Will is physically shaking in silent laughter and you feel like you’re missing out on some inside joke between them. Joyce just rolls her eyes, smiling as she mouths a sorry to you. You shake your head, letting her know it’s fine.

“So, Jonathan, Dad tells me you’re getting pretty good at photography?”

He looks at you surprised, “Y-yeah, yes, yep.”

“Jonathan, tell her about the magazine! Jonathan’s picture was in a magazine,” Joyce gushes.

“One of my pictures is in a magazine,” he says to appease his mother. She grabs his arm and shakes it giddily.

“It’s actually really good,” your dad says in agreement. Jonathan gives him a quick tight lipped smile, before his eyes meet yours. You mouth sorry and he smiles, eyes shifting down.

“So, Will, did you guys get to play that game,” you change the subject. He looks excited that you asked.

“Oh, no, we didn’t get the chance today. But we’re going to get together this weekend,” he shifts in his seat to face you.

“That’s cool,” your head bobs cooly, “Does, uh, does Eddie play with you guys?”

There’s a sudden tension in the air, thick enough that a knife could cut it. The Byers are looking between each other, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen Joyce so serious. After a beat, it’s your father’s turn to giggle.

“Awe, come on. Don’t be like that you guys,” he says to the three of them. They remain hard as stone, Will tucking his head into his shoulder. Thinking back to the interaction at work the other day, you realize that Will had never directly interacted with Eddie, sort of standing back as Lucas and Dustin greeted him.

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, Joyce has some weird beef with the Brenner’s,” your dad dismisses.

“Ugh, Hop you know that’s not — it’s more complicated than that,” she looks to you. “Just,” she squeezes her eyes shut, breathing out of her nose, “it would be best if you just…don’t get involved with the Brenner’s, okay? Trust me.”

Eddie’s words about the town not being fond of his family came to the forefront of your mind. It had you intrigued as to how bad his family must be if Joyce Byers doesn’t like them. Though you want to press for more, you decide to put a pin in it for now to keep the peace.

Once it’s just you and your dad again though, you’re immediately pressing him for questions.

“Okay, so what is this “beef” you said Joyce has with the Brenner’s,” you shout from the bathroom, mouth full toothpaste as you brush your teeth.

“Honestly, I wish I could tell you,” your dad yells from the front porch as he smokes, “They moved to Hawkins two years ago and Joyce, her boys, and half of Loch Nora seem to hate them. Sure, Eddie can be out of line at times, but the rest of them are tame.” He puts out his cigarette and walks back into the cabin, “ Dr.Brenner works at the hospital practically non-stop. Someone swore he was there for 3 days straight when this bad flu was going around last year. The rest of the family keeps to themselves for the most part. All adopted. Two of them are home schooled, the other two and Eddie are grown. I think one of ‘em is writing for a newspaper or something?”

Spitting and rinsing, you hop over the back of the couch, landing next to your father as he talks, “Half the town ignores them, and the other half claim that they’re monsters or supernatural.”

“Why?” you scrunch your face.

“Depends on who you ask,” he shrugs, sipping from his beer, “According to Joyce they shouldn’t be here. I’ve asked her plenty of times to give her side of the story, but she won't budge. I really respect Brenner, personally. Single guy, adopting and raising five kids on his own, working hard as a doctor to make sure they are taken care of.”

“You’d think Joyce would think highly of a guy like that,” you look up to the ceiling, trying to see what could possibly be the problem that Joyce would have. “Maybe he did something to her and she doesn’t want to say. Or maybe one of the kids did something to Jonathan or Will?”

“If they did something to the boys I know she would tell me. I guess I could see him saying something to her and her maybe taking it out of context. I don’t know, I just do my job and try and stay as unbiased as possible.”

You nod your head. You’re mind is still swirling with questions that you want to ask. But as your dad turns on his trash TV, you know he’s not going to be paying attention to anything you’re asking. So you decide to wait and ask him later.

Finding parking at work today was a nightmare. The entire parking lot in front of the Barnes & Noble was FULL of cars, a mix of classic and sport cars taking up several rows in the normally bare parking spots. Having to park in the very back, you cut through the crowd of people on the way to the building. It was busy, and making your way around ended up being worse than finding parking as half of Hawkins was packed into one place to fawn over cars. There was a bit of a flow that you’d caught on to, so you stuck through it, getting stopped occasionally as the group in front of you paused to gander.

In one of the stalemates, you looked around for a way to get past the congestion, only to spot a familiar pair of brown eyes looking straight at you from across the lot. He looked exhausted, and you could only assume that he probably didn’t want to be here either. You gave him a small wave, and the frown carved into his face flipped, returning the gesture. You were about to try and make your way over to him, when the sound of a loud engine and horn honking had you turning your head, eyes blinded by light coming straight towards you.

The next thing you knew, you were on the ground, a pain in your rib confirming that you must have been hit. But when you open your eyes, you’re faced with the grill of a car being completely crushed by a…hand? In your shock, you follow the hand, up the arm, and into the same eyes you had seen just a moment ago, suddenly dark, almost black in appearance. Except they weren’t looking at you, they were looking down. Down at the open gash on your arm from the way you’d hit the pavement.

Taking in a breath, you wince at the pain in your side. You’d expected to have hit your side on the pavement as well, but when you crane your head down, you see Eddie’s other hand gripping right over the pain.

“Ow,” you say, sucking in a breath as you move slightly. His head snaps, looking up at you when you speak, and the look on his face reads concerned, but he seems frozen in place.

“Holy, shit dude,” a girl appears from behind Eddie, but the way he’s hunched over you obscures your view. You don’t miss the car suddenly moving over a few inches, though, Eddie’s grip loosening at the motion. When your eyebrows knit themselves together, trying to figure out what the hell was happening, Eddie suddenly starts yelling. “Hey, we need an ambulance over here!”

When you arrived at the hospital, you were surprised when the doctor that was assigned to you introduced himself as the infamous Dr. Brenner. He was a grey haired man, most likely in his late 50s or early 60s, with skin like porcelain and a reassuring smile. And most importantly, he had your x-rays in his hand.

“Good news, you’re going to live,” he laughs, flipping all the papers back on your chart, “Bad news is you’re going to live with a rib fracture. I would suggest taking it easy for the next six to eight weeks, take something for pain as needed, and don’t be afraid to slap on a lidocaine patch if it helps. As for your arm,” he looks at the bandage, a little blood soaking through the white, “Clean it well and keep it wrapped. A little antibacterial ointment should do the trick.”

“Thanks Brenner,” your dad sticks out his hand to the man, “I appreciate you getting here to look at her so quickly.”

Brenner takes your dad’s hand, shaking it in return, “Of course, I couldn’t let the police chief’s daughter sit in pain.” He looks over to you, brows creasing slightly before speaking up again, “The two of you are free to go whenever you’re ready. If her pain gets worse or if she hits the rib again, feel free to call me at home and I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Wow, thank you.” You’re taken aback at his generosity, looking over to your dad as he gives you a “see I told you he was a nice guy” look. While you gather your things, your dad tells you he’s going to grab the car and meet you at the front doors.

As you leave the room, you look down the hall and see Eddie leaning up against the wall, chewing on his thumb nail deep in thought. Taking in a deep breath in preparation to approach him, you grab your side, wincing in pain. “Shit,” you breathe out, keeling over a bit.

A pair of doc’s enters your vision. You lift your head, taking in Eddie’s figure as he’s now stood before you, hands hovering as he looks you over.

“Are you okay?” his voice sounds panicked, his face twisted as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m good,” your voice strained, but you give him a weak smile in reassurance. He nods, hands lowering to disappear into his pockets. His mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyes looking anywhere but directly into yours as he fidgets about. You laugh at his nervousness, deciding to speak first.

“Thank you for saving me.”

This gets his attention and he’s all teeth as he smiles, “Yeah, of course. I’m, uh, glad you’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t be without you,” you tilt your head, looking at him. You suddenly remember the events that unfolded. Eddie was on the other side of a line of cars, surrounded by droves of people and cars. The smile drops from your face. “How did you get to me so fast?”

“What are you talking about,” he shakes his head, “I was right next to you?”

You look at him incredulously, “What? No you weren’t. You were-”

“No, I was right next to you. When the car came at you, I grabbed you and pulled you out of the way.” The way he spoke to you scared you; a veiled threat with every word. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“Eddie, I know what I saw. The way your hand crushed the front of that car and -- and then it moved-”

The feeling of ice on your lips shocked you, sending goosebumps across your body. Once you registered that the cold sensation was coming from Eddie’s hand over your mouth, an uneasiness takes over your whole body. It felt like he’d been standing in the winter weather, which would be understandable if it was, say, January, and not early August.

Your hand flew to his wrist, the one attached to your injured arm. His eyes widened, focused on the wrap around your forearm. His throat bobbed, swallowing thickly. Then, he pulled his hand away as quickly as it landed on your lips. Backing away, he looked at you like you were the one to be afraid of. His eyes darted to your arm once more, then back to your eyes before taking off down the hall. He was fast, making a sharp turn at the end of the hall, but you ran after him, determined to get answers. Only, when you reached the turn he was gone.

That night is when the dreams started. Standing in an opening, trees surrounding you at every corner. The constant feeling of eyes on you made you feel small, vulnerable out in the open for the predator to attack. And when it does, all you see of it is its brown eyes.

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy, you frantically feel around for your phone. The bright screen blinds you when you tap it, through squinted eyes you read 4 am. A knock on your door has you jump.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Your dad’s voice fills you with relief.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m good. Just a nightmare. Sorry to wake you,” you call to the barely visible door. He gives you an okay and tells you goodnight. You lie there awake until the sun comes up.

“Oh my god, that’s crazy!” Heather’s hand flies over her mouth as she pushes your cup across the tiny counter. “So you think his hand, like, broke your freaking rib?”

“I don’t know,” you grab the cup, taking a small sip, “It may have been a coincidence, but I could feel his fingers digging into my side, so it definitely wasn’t from hitting the pavement.”

“But you said he was all the way across the lot, that makes no sense,” Barb questions, wiping her hands on her green apron.

You flail your arm up in an exaggerated shrug, “I know! He said he was next to me the whole time but I know he was over in G4 and I was in the F5 section. You guys saw all the people from in here, there’s no way he should have been able to get to me that quickly.”

“Ooohh, maybe the rumours are true then,” Heather wiggles her fingers at Barb, eliciting an eye roll from the red head.

“You just want the rumours to be true because you’re obsessed with that True Blood show,” Barb says with a snide, teasing tone.

“What does True Blood have to do with the rumours?” When you ask, the two of them look at each other with knowing grins.

“Oh you haven't heard?” Heather starts. “Everyone thinks the Brenner’s are a bunch of vampires or something.”

“Or something,” you parrot back, looking at her through squinted eyes. You knew most people in the midwest believed in some kind of cryptid or skinwalker, so you’d learned to take everything with a grain of salt when it came to small town gossip.

“I keep telling her they come out in the day so they can’t be vampires,” Barb explains, “but she won’t believe me.”

“Okay, but, like, have you seen them?” Heather looks at you with raised brows.

“I’ve only seen Eddie and Dr.Brenner,” you rub your hand over your still bandaged arm.

“Girl, okay,” Heather starts, placing her hands on the counter to lean in closer to you, “so like Eddie. Super hot, obvi. Dr.Brenner? Hot for an old dude, right? And I don’t even swing that way, but the two girls, Nancy and Robin, they’ll have you questioning things. They’re dating though from what I’ve heard,” she sighs, cheek landing in her palm.

“Wait, the sisters are dating?” You looked at her, appalled by the insinuation of her words.

“They’re not siblings?” Heather looks at you funny. “Well, Nancy and one of the younger ones apparently are blood related. I think someone said that Robin isn’t adopted and that she just lives with them. Like a live-in girlfriend or whatever.”

You nod, trying to make sense of the weird family dynamic. Before Heather can continue on, the chime of the entrance door opening alerts you to a customer entering the store. Even though you were on your break, muscle memory took over as you turn on your heels to greet them, “Hi! Welcome to Barnes and…”

Eddie Munson himself walks in through the door, booking it straight for the games section without a passing glance. You stand there in dumb struck silence. When you look back at Barb and Heather, they give you “shit we were almost caught” looks on their faces, and it has all three of you laughing.

“Oh, hey,” Heather motions you closer, “There’s gonna be a big party at Lover’s Lake on Friday. You should totally come. It’s on the Loch Nora side, but you can park by the lake houses and walk over.”

“Um, sure,” you accept, feeling excited at the prospect of making better friends with some of the people in town your age.

“Great,” Heather claps, a mischievous smile on her face. She wiggles her brows at you suggestively, “Make sure you bring your best swim suit, there’s going to be lots of Loch Nora boys there. I heard Steve Harrington is single again-”

“Small black coffee, please.” All three of you jump. Eddie was standing at Barb’s counter. None of you heard him walk up, as if he had appeared out of thin air. “Can I pay for this here?” He shakes a book that says something about monsters, a large creature on the front with a big eye. His face is stone, almost annoyed as he waits for Barb to ring him out. When he pays, he finally looks over at you, and you realise you’d been staring at him the whole time.

You almost miss the way his eyes flash to your arm as he passes by. His intense stare makes you turn to hide your arm from his view. His nose flares when you do, brow creasing. But when his eyes meet yours, honey brown as if being hit by the non existing sunlight, his face softens. An almost pleading look to him. Like he wanted to talk to you, but wouldn’t. And as soon as Heather places his coffee on the counter, he’s booking it out the door.

“What was that-” was all you heard Heather say, your feet moving on their own as you stepped out into the humid August air. He was already in the middle of the parking lot in the time it took you to get out the door.

“Eddie, hey! Wait a minute!”

He stopped in his tracks, back still turned to you. You stare right into the monster on his “Dio” patch as you approach him. Grabbing his arm, you go to spin him around but find it hard to get him to budge. Instead, he turns to you on his own, stone faced, waiting for you to speak.

“What the hell was that about back there?” You pant as you try to catch your breath. “Are you avoiding me or something?”

His body stiffens at your words, eyes narrowing, “What if I am?”

You blink at him, “I — I just want to know why, I guess?”

He stands there in silence, statuesque with an inhuman stillness. Getting tired of the stare off, you decide to just say your peace. “Listen, I know I’m not crazy. I don’t really care at this point the how or the why of what happened that day. Whether it was adrenaline, my memory being foggy, or-or whatever. You saved my life, and…and that’s what really matters. So, thank you.”

You watch his face ease into amusement, apples of his cheeks pressing lines into the creases of his eyes at your words. God he has a cute smile.

“Okay,” is all he says, his eyes look you up and down. He seems to open up, body fully facing you now.

“Okay,” you say with a smile. There’s a pregnant pause, the two of you just looking at each other for a moment until a drop of rain hits your nose.

Both of you look up, and you can tell rain is about to fall.

“Hey,” you try and talk quickly, wanting to get the words out before it starts pouring, “my coworker, Heather, she, um, said there’s going to be a party at Lover’s Lake Friday. N-not like a date, or anything. Uh, just, maybe we could start over. Trying to be friends…” You were kicking yourself on the inside for being so lame, “It’s on the Loch Nora side, but she said it should be easy to find. You, um, you should come?”

His head drops, shaking back and forth, but his smile remains.

“I’ll think about it,” he says when he looks at you again. Taking a step back as the rain begins to fall, he nods towards the building behind you, “Better get inside, don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“O-oh, right,” you look behind you, and then back to him, but he’s already gone.

thank you for reading!

#twilight au #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader

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joelalorian · 7 months ago

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Eleven: Fall Into Me and I'll Catch You Darlin'

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 5k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Joel is his own warning. Angst/despair, fluff, smut - this chapter has the works. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This is it, folks, the final chapter! Just the epilogue left now. Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. I have fallen in love with this little family and I hope you have as well.

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Ten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Four days. Joel hadn’t left your bedside in four days, so immovable that the nurses took pity on him and asked an orderly to setup a cot for him in your hospital room.

You still hadn’t regained consciousness and Joel was losing his god damned mind over it.

The list of your injuries a mile long, among them a bunch of broken things – ankle, nose, ribs, wrist. That’s what you were right now, broken, and you had a hard road to recovery ahead of you. Joel agonized over your condition, freaking out when you had to go back into surgery shortly after coming out of it the first time. He’d barely laid eyes on you before they hauled you away again, machines beeping chaotically at whatever went wrong. You developed a hemorrhage, the doctor later told him, but they caught it in time.

Joel hadn’t stopped crying in four days, except for a brief time when Sarah was discharged. He held her for hours, trying his best not to smother or hurt her as she sat on his lap next to your bed. Aside from a purple cast on Sarah’s broken wrist, her limited injuries were already healing. Joel’s worry over his sweet little girl lessened a bit and he trusted Tommy, your dad, and your best friend, Emily, to watch over her while he sat vigil at your bedside. They brought Sarah by to see you twice a day, every day so far. Still, you hadn’t woken up.

He lost it the first time Sarah saw you lying there, barely recognizable from the injuries you sustained. Face bruised and swollen, body wrapped in casts or dressings. Sarah worried that you were dying, nearly inconsolable at the thought that you might die, might leave her, and her dad, forever. She couldn’t handle it, the thought of losing the only mom she’d ever known, ever wanted.

Joel had to leave the room at his daughter’s visceral expression of the pain she felt, her inconsolable weeping a reflection of his own anguish. He left Tommy to deal with it, and slid down the wall in the hallway, just a little way down from your room, shoulders shaking from the strength of his own sobs as the sound of Sarah’s caterwauling carried through the air. JB was the only one who could reach him through his pain, the understanding of one father for another as they both shed endless tears over you. He sat next to Joel, right there in the hallway, and wept with him, whispering words of praise of how strong you were, how much you loved them all, how you would pull through.

Joel fought hard to believe those words, to trust in JB’s hope as he was quickly losing his. He raged inside at how unfair life could be until he exhausted himself emotionally and fell into a dreamless daze in the cot next to you. When the sun rose above the horizon, he stopped trying to sleep, stopped pretending that he could while you remained unconscious.

“Come on, son. Go home and shower, take a nap in a real bed. You haven’t slept in days. I’ll watch over Spud, and you’ll be my first call if anything happens,” JB insisted the morning of day 5 at the sight of heavy bags beneath the younger man’s eyes.

Opening his mouth to argue, to adamantly refuse, Joel snapped it shut at the concerned look on your dad’s face. He gave into the exhaustion then, all the fight fleeing him, and he stood with shoulders hunched. He was completely deflated, emotionally and physically. “Ok, you’re right. I at least need a shower.”

“That you do. I could smell you down the hall.” Joel’s lips twitched at JB’s comedic effort, but he didn’t have it in him to smile or laugh. “Go on, git. Emily’s at your house with Sarah. She’ll stay while you nap – please try to get some sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least three hours, ya hear me, son?”

Joel nodded and kissed the small spot on your face free of bruising, slinking from the room with one last glance over his shoulder at you. He noticed how your dad kept calling him son – a new development since the accident and it warmed his heart in a way that he sorely needed during this torturous time.

The drive home a blur, his limbs functioning on muscle memory alone, Joel stumbled through the front door of his home with just enough energy to great Emily and Sarah.

“Joel!” Emily exclaimed, jumping from her spot on the couch to pull him into a tight hug. She adored him from the first second you introduced them, finding the man dreamy in that way that was a perfect match for you. It tore her apart to see him falling to pieces over your current condition. “JB commanded that I send you right to bed. Give Sarah a kiss then git goin’.”

Too drained to be disgruntled about being given orders in his own house, he swept Sarah up with tired limbs, ever mindful of her cast. “Hey baby girl. I love you. Have you been good for Miss Emily?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m always good. Is she any better?” Sarah asked in her sweet, young voice that pulled taut at his heartstrings.

“Not yet,” Joel choked on the words, unable to fight the tears stinging the back of his eyes at his daughter’s worried face. He set her down on the couch before trudging up the stairs. Aching to climb into bed – as empty and cold as it would be without you – but he jumped into the shower first to wash the past few days away.

If only it was that easy.

Joel collapsed on the unmade bed, barely managing to throw a pair of sleep pants on after the quick shower. He was dead asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

An hour later, he pried his eyes open, clutching to the warm body clinging to him. For a brief moment, his mind thought it just another normal morning waking up to you at his side. Reality crashed down on him, hard, before he even had the chance to enjoy the thought. Sarah’s frame clung to him like a spider monkey in her sleep. She must have joined him for a nap at some point and was still out cold.

Her steady breathing lulled him back to sleep for another couple hours until Emily woke him with a shout. Joel bolted upright at the echo of his name, heart thumbing in his chest as he jostled Sarah in the process.

“Joel!” Emily called again as she reached the top of the stairs and peeked into his bedroom. “She’s awake!”

Mind still fighting through the fog to wake up, he stared at your best friend with owlish eyes.

“JB just called. She’s awake! You gotta get back to the hospital!” Emily stepped fully into the room, tossing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt at him to get him moving.

“Dad!” Sarah’s uninjured hand nudging him into action as she exclaimed. “Can I come with you?”

Finally, Joel’s mind kicked into gear. You were awake. He had to see you, but first, he needed to get dressed. “Not yet, baby girl. Lemme see how she’s doing and maybe you can see her tomorrow. We don’t want to overwhelm her, okay?”

Flopping back onto the mattress with a pout, Sarah muttered, “Okay,” as Joel eased out of bed with a groan.

It started with muscle twitches. Fingers flexing. A small grimace creasing your battered face. The process to consciousness was a daunting one that ended with fighting against the intubation tube. Even once a nurse came in and removed the tube, you still fought to come fully back to yourself.

“Dad?” Throat dry and raw, you could do little more than croak despite the rising panic. Your eyes darted around the room in confusion, landing first on your dad before taking in the plain white walls and clinical equipment. You were in the hospital, that much was obvious, but you couldn’t recall why. A thick fog wove through your mind, leaving you trying to make sense of anything, everything.

“Hey Spud. Sleeping beauty finally awakens,” your dad teased, his voice gentle but, even with a foggy brain, you picked up on the worried undertone.

“What happened?” It hurt to talk but you needed to know.

“You don’t remember? Of course you don’t, you got a pretty good knock to the head,” he muttered half to himself before tenderly taking your hand between both of his. “You and Sarah were hit by a drunk driver. Does that ring a bell?”

Like a light bulb coming on, things came back to you, brightening the dark corners of your memory. The ride home from school, going to get ice cream, the sudden and unexpected impact as you proceeded through a green light, the car rolling once, twice, then… nothing. With the memory came your brain’s recognition of pain and your body’s aches made themselves well known.

Everything hurt.

Seriously, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, to lie still. It hurt to just fucking exist.

“Oh my God, Sarah? Is she okay? Where is she? Where is Joel?” You glanced around the room as if waiting for them jump out from behind something, the panic returning as you gulped for air.

“Calm down, honey. The little nugget is okay. She’s home, Emily’s watching over her now. Joel’s on his way back. I’ll let him tell you how she is, but just know that she’s fine.” JB spoke in short, clipped sentences, not wanting to overwhelm you further, one grizzled hand stroking your hair back like he did when you were sick as a kid.

You tried to sit up but abandoned that idea the moment the room spun, the throbbing pain too much. Fuck, your face hurt like hell.

“Don’t do that, Spud. While Sarah might be okay, you were seriously injured. I’ll let the doctor explain when he comes in, but you shouldn’t try moving or anything just yet. You’re pretty banged up,” he explained softly.

You met your dad’s eyes, and you could see at once the toll your condition took on him. You had so many questions, but you couldn’t process them quite yet. The pair of you sat quietly for a little while until the doctor joined you, explaining the laundry list of injuries you sustained. No wonder everything hurt. They gave you more medicine for the pain now that you regained consciousness – you couldn’t believe you were out for so long – and things started to make more sense in your brain.

You’d be stuck in the hospital for a few more days before the doctor would even think about discharging you. As much as hospitals sucked, you knew it best you stay put when you couldn’t even sit up with collapsing back in pain.

Joel burst into the room shortly after the doctor left. Sipping at a cup of water your dad held for you, you nearly choked at the sight of him. You’d never seen him look so disheveled, so run down, his normal scruff grown out into a near full beard after a week of not shaving, eyes bloodshot and sunken, curls a messy, wild halo around his head.

“Oh darlin’,” Joel said as you attempted to smile at him. The bandages covering portions of your face and the swelling from the repaired break in your nose made it hard, but your eyes sparkled with happiness at the sight of him.

“Hi Joel,” you croaked in return.

He practically launched himself at your side, knocking JB out of the way so he could sit bedside. Hands hovering, afraid to touch, tears glistened in his eyes. “I was so fuckin’ scared. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

Tears sprung to your own dry eyes as the fingers of your uninjured hand tangled with his. The mere tickle of tears in your nose was damn near excruciating. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Joel’s dark chocolate eyes searched your face, completely baffled. “Darlin’, what? What in the world are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You blubbered as Joel and your dad stared at you bewildered. “I almost got Sarah killed!”

Joel cracked a smile then, the first one in nearly a week, before leaning forward to place a tender kiss upon your chapped lips. “The hell you did. You didn’t do anything but take care of her. None of this was your fault, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t shake the guilt though, not even days later when the doctor discharged you. Sweet, little Sarah waited for you with a bright smile and a mylar ballon that read Welcome Home as Joel and JB helped you into the house. The sight of the purple cast on her right wrist wiped the smile from your face. How could Joel not see that this was all your fault?

You could hardly hug the girl as guilt overwhelmed you.

Emily and Tommy stood behind Sarah as you wobbled through the front door, smiles not hiding the winces at the healing trauma on your face. Emily could tell at once that you were on the verge of breaking down, unable to take your eyes from the healing contusions on Sarah’s adorable face or the cast on her wrist.

Stepping forward, Emily pulled you into a hug, ever mindful of your healing ribs and incisions. “It’s so good to see you awake and in one piece!” she whispered in your ear. “None of this was your fault, you know that right?”

She knew you too well. You choked on a sob, burying your head in her shoulder for several minutes until you had your emotions back under control.

“Do you wanna sign my cast? Daddy got special markers for it! I wouldn’t let anyone else sign it before you came home.” Sarah held a silver Sharpie up for you, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you. Unable to deny her, you took the marker with a trembling hand and drew a heart on the topside of the cast, your name scrawled sloppily beneath it.

Delighted, Sarah handed Joel the marker next and, with a quick glance at you, printed his name above the heart you drew, adding Sarah’s next to yours so that it now read Joel hearts you & Sarah. The tears returned when both Sarah and Joel gazed at you with unabashed affection.

Perhaps they really did not blame you for the accident, for Sarah’s broken wrist, for all that you put them through in the past week and a half. You weren’t sure if you deserved their love, but you basked in it, allowing it to wash over you and heal your soul.

Six weeks of convalescing at home under the tender care of Joel and Sarah, and you finally felt like yourself again, emotionally, and physically. It took a while, but Joel managed to convince you to set free the irrational guilt you felt over the accident, aided by the news that the drunk driver pleaded guilty.

Wanting to celebrate your recovery and the removal of your and Sarah’s casts, Joel planned a small gathering for July 4th. Just the Millers, JB, Emily and her husband, and Maria – the attorney Tommy fell head over heels for last year finally gave into his advances and they were happily living together now. She was a gem and fell right in with the group, giving as good as she got.

“Darlin’, just put that down, I’ll get it,” Joel insisted as you pulled a plate full of raw steaks from the fridge.

“Joel, I’m not a delicate little flower who will break under the weight of a few steaks,” you teased lovingly. Placing the plate on the counter, you turned to Joel and slipped your arms around his neck. Fingers threading through his curls, you pulled his head down, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

Joel’s large hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass as the kiss intensified. “Mmmm, I love you, darlin’,” his deep voice rumbled against your mouth. A knock sounded on the front door as he placed another kiss on your lips. “Now, let me take care of this while you welcome our guests.”

Before long, everyone gathered in the backyard. Your dad, Joel, and Emily’s husband Ed stood around the grill while Joel cooked the steaks and Sarah showed off her swimming skills to Maria and Tommy. You and Emily sat on the patio with glasses of sangria just watching everyone you love.

“I know I’ve said it a million times already but thank you again for being there for them after the accident,” you said as you watched Joel manning the grill with confidence. “I know it couldn’t have been easy and I just want you to know that I appreciate you.”

“Always, that’s what friends are for.” Emily smiled at you. “You really got somethin’ good here, you know. That man, he was a complete wreck while you were in the hospital. And that little girl, she worships the ground you walk on. Those two would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for them.”

You heard from your dad how hard Joel struggled while you were in the hospital, how he barely slept, refused to leave your side. Emily reiterated it all and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you would have done the same if anything happened to him or Sarah.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” you said after taking a sip of the fruity red wine concoction. “I can’t imagine my life without them in it.”

“That’s good, really good.” Too busy making googly eyes at Joel, you missed the knowing look Emily shot you.

“She can’t keep her eyes off you, son,” JB teased. “You ready to do the thing?”

“What thing is that?” Ed asked curiously.

“Imma ask her to marry me,” Joel mumbled, already feeling a little nervous. “I got the ring in my pocket, just waiting for the right moment.”

“Good on ya, man!” Ed replied. Turning to JB, he added, “I take it he has your blessing?”

Nodding, JB grinned at his future son-in-law as he replied, “He sure as hell does. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to take care of my little Spud.”

A flush rose along Joel’s neck and moved onto his cheeks at the praise. “Alright, alright. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t wanna risk her overhearing something. I want it to be a surprise.”

The other two men nodded in understanding. “Just one last thing,” Ed said. “You should ask her during the fireworks. I brought my good camera; I’ll make sure to get great shots of it for you and the fireworks will just add to the ambiance.”

The steaks were grilled to perfection, Joel nailing that medium rare sear that you loved, and Maria’s macaroni salad was a hit. Once everyone devoured their food, you jumped into the pool, letting the water ease the lingering ache in your bones while your dad and Emily insisted on helping Joel clean up. Before long, everyone else joined you in floating around to kill time before the town’s fireworks show began. The house was perfectly situated to see them from a distance, so you didn’t have to fight the traffic to find parking in town to see the show.

Drinking in the sight of Joel shirtless, swim trunks sitting low on his hips, you licked your lips hungrily. He dove into the deep end of the pool, swimming underwater until he reached you in the shallow end. Popping up next to you, he slicked his wet curls back from his forehead with a grin. Fuck, he was handsome.

“Hey beautiful,” Joel greeted. “Enjoying yourself?”

Smile so broad your cheeks hurt, you nodded. “Today has been wonderful, thank you, Joel. This was exactly what I needed.”

“I’d do anything for you, darlin’. You know that, right?” he implored, pulling you close so that you could wrap your legs around his waist beneath the water’s surface. “I’ve never been so in love before. You have completely changed my world.”

“I could say the same about you, babe.”

“The fireworks are gonna start soon. Watch to watch them from the patio?”

“Sure,” you replied. So caught up in Joel, you didn’t notice everyone watching you both with broad smiles as the two of you climbed out of the pool.

Settling into one of the cushioned outdoor chairs, the soft glow of the string lights from that special date all those months ago glistening on your damp skin. Joel moved his chair closer and sat, holding his right hand out for yours, he grinned when you twined your fingers with his.

Suddenly, Tommy appeared in front of you both, carrying a fresh glass of sangria for you and an ice-cold beer for Joel. “Here you both go.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you said gratefully.

“You ready?” he asked, his dark eyes glowing warmly in the low lighting.

“For the fireworks?” you replied, slightly confused. “You bet!”

Tommy smiled indulgently, sharing a look with Joel before moving to the poolside to help his girlfriend out of the water.

Glancing around at your friends and family, you found everyone watching the two of you. You had the feeling something was up, that there was something you were missing. Before you could dwell on it, the first bursts of light exploded in the sky, the whistling boom echoing distantly.

Mesmerized by the show, oohing and ahhing with everyone, you didn’t see Joel slip from his seat to kneel next to you. As the finale began, he said your name, drawing your attention away from the sky.

An audible gasp left your lips as he gazed at you, love lighting up his tanned features. Your eyes darted around the yard to find everyone watching you instead of the fireworks, Ed snapping away with that fancy camera of his.

“Joel, what—” you began breathlessly before he cut you off.

“Do you remember that song we danced to, right here in the yard, beneath these very lights?” His smooth voice gave no hints of the nervous energy flowing beneath his skin.

You nodded, recalling the memory fondly. “That was a beautiful night.”

“It was, and I hope to have many more just like it with you.” Still kneeling, he reached his left hand into his pocket and your breath hitched. Your heart nearly dropped when you merely pulled his phone out, tapping at the screen until music began to play in the background.

Taking your hands in his, Joel began to sing along, his deep voice the perfect contrast to the artist’s.

“On the day that I met you,

The world had just spit me out.

On my way to the bottom

Sure I’d never be found.

Then you saw me for me

Made me believe in myself.

On the day that I met

It all turned around.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but for the first time in weeks, they were tears of happiness, not pain or guilt. You clutched at Joel as he went to pull his right hand free, and he chuckled.

“I fall more in love with you every single day. I don’t know how I ever got to be this lucky, to find someone like you, who fits so perfectly, so seamlessly into mine and Sarah’s lives.”

You finally loosened your grip so he could pull his right hand free, digging into the zippered pocket as you swiped at the tears coursing down your face.

“You are the woman of my dreams, the one I was sure didn’t exist until I met you. If I promise to fall for you over and over again, will you promise to be my wife, to be Sarah’s mom, to love us from now until forever?”

Gazing into his dark, gorgeous eyes, misty with tears of his own, you nodded. “Yes, yes. A million times, yes, Joel. I’d love to be your wife and Sarah’s mom.”

You were sobbing as he beamed, slipping a beautiful, understated princess cut diamond ring on your finger. It fit perfectly and your heart swelled, the love in you threatening to spill over, to burst straight from your chest. “Joel, it’s so beautiful!”

Joel stood, pulling you with him until your feet left the ground and he spun you in a circle once, twice, before setting you down on solid ground. You lurched forward, sealing your love, your promise with a heated kiss.

As if they hadn’t all witnessed every second of what just happened, Joel looked over at everyone and declared, “She said yes!”

The small group of your favorite people made a racket with their whoops and whistles, JB shouting above the rest, “About fuckin’ time, son!”

Unable to contain herself for another second – she had been incredibly patient, after all, letting her dad do the asking instead of her – Sarah burst from Tommy’s grasp, launching herself at you. Joel helped you sweep her up for a tight hug.

“It’s official now, right?” Sarah questioned, nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re gonna be my mom now. I finally get to have a mom and not just any mom, but you. The best one I could have asked for.”

Just when you thought the tears ebbed away, the waterworks started once again. “Oh, my sweet, perfect girl. I promise to try my best to be worthy of such an honor. I couldn’t have asked for a better girl to go on this adventure with.”

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Emily said, her voice catching as tears ran down her cheeks as well.

“Agreed,” Maria chimed in with a sniffle and Tommy pulled her close with a dumb grin spreading across his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about how he’d propose when the time came.

You and Joel couldn’t keep your hands off each other once Sarah went to bed and everyone left. Your need for each other was too mighty to fight, not that either of you wanted too anyway. He treated you like glass the past six weeks, afraid to hurt you, to aggravate your injuries. You understood, but that didn’t stop the desire, the need for him and it frustrated you that he would not give in. Now that you were mostly healed, you wanted him to make love to you like he used to.

Readying yourselves for bed, you climbed onto the mattress, straddling Joel’s hips where he laid back against the pillows. Half hard already at the mere sight of you naked before him, he grasped your hips to grind your core down on him.

“I need you, my love. I need to feel you inside me. It’s been too long,” your voice a breathy whine against his mouth, your lips touching but not yet kissing. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel gasped as you shifted against his now fully hardened cock. “Take what you want, sweetheart.” He watched with lust blown eyes as you slid his sleep pants down his hips, and he kicked them off to lay in a pile at the bottom of the bed.

So wet and needy, you didn’t even need foreplay. Sealing your mouth to his, you swallowed his groan as you slid down on his cock. Pausing for a moment once he was balls deep inside you, fingers threaded through his luscious curls, you sighed in contentment.

“I feel so fucking full, Joel,” you moaned, finally starting to move. “I’ve missed this so much.”

Joel gazed at you, completely enraptured and unable to speak. The words stuck in his throat, he just watched you move on him, his hips shifting upwards to meet your movements. It felt so good he knew he wouldn’t last long, shifting his hand between you to pluck at your clit as you rode him.

“Come for me, darlin’. I need to feel you come apart around me,” the words burst from deep in his chest, dripping with need as he got closer to the edge. Thumb moving frantically against your clit in that way that drove you crazy, he made you come apart within minutes.

“Fuck, Joel!” you gasped, burying your face in his shoulder, biting down on the flesh to stifle your moans. Waves of pleasure washed over you so strong you couldn’t move your hips anymore. Joel took over, thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm as your walls fluttered around him.

You sunk your teeth further into the meat of his trapezius, the shock of pain like a bolt of lightning straight to his cock. His movements grew sloppy as his balls tightened and he came with a guttural growl, sucking at your neck as rope after rope of cum splashed inside you.

Breathless and satiated, you stayed in place, allowing the aftershocks to roll through you both. You brought your hands up to cup his face, the patchy scruff of his beard tickling your palms. The diamond ring on your left hand sparkled in the dim lighting and you grinned down at Joel, so full of love.

He pulled you down to lay with him, his softening cock slipped out of you in the process, and you both ignored the mess as you cuddled together.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” You felt the words rumble from deep in his chest as he spoke them, pulling you impossibly closer until your sweaty skin melded to his. “I fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

Smiling sleepily, you murmured your love for him, your excitement over being engaged, the beauty of the ring he chose for you, until you fell asleep mid-sentence.

Your dreams were no match for the life you and Joel were creating together.

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #pedro pascal #idiots in love #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #fic: fall into me

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 2 months ago

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Honestly it's INSANELY funny that a post is going around rn about the Life of Faith dolls cause I remember when they were being sold. My conservative Christian mom even said "Hmm. That might be a bit culty for us. Also the Elsie Dinsmore books are racist trash," bought me a pretty journal from the local Christian bookstore, and that was that. Me and my friend Annie did a deep-dive on them a few months back just in our own DMs so for those curious about how bad this gets, here's some fun facts:

The company was started by Christian Homeschoolers™ (not "homeschoolers who are christian." Christian Homeschoolers and all the stereotypes that entails) in the mid-90s but went bankrupt in 2010. They based them around the old Elsie Dinsmore books, starring a girl who was so pious she would rather die than not pray to God or smth like that. The dolls hands can be clasped in prayer and they all came with mini Bibles

The dolls were Elsie Dinsmore, the daughter of a fucking plantation owner; Millie Keith, her cousin whose doll was a clear ripoff of Kirsten Larson; Violet Travilla, Elsie's daughter; Laylie Colbert, a fucking slave doll (but it's ok because the white girls converted her to Christianity); and Kathleen McKenzie, a Great Depression bitch.

This is a screencap from the defunct official site. Note how only Laylie looks like she could be from pre-90s LMAO.

Elsie Dinsmore books were originally published between 1867-1905. They are generally considered so bad that even hardcore Evangelicals consider them boring at best. The doll line EDITED the books to be less racist actually. Yes, the doll line that calls the slaves "Plantation-Dwellers" actually edited racist shit out of the books. I recall a bit where Elsie told a slave girl that she would be white in Heaven. They also cut out a bit where her Dad beats her with a riding crop.

Yes, she does marry her Dad's Friend. They did not cut this part out.

DINSMORE, YOU BRUTE

Millie's books were somehow both more and less racist. Millie and her family were abolitionists who helped runaway slaves but also one of her brothers marries a Mexican girl after the two of them were, and I quote, "captured by Indians and presumed dead."

IIRC, Elsie and Violet happen to be in Europe when the Civil War happens and they just kinda stay there to avoid the consequences of their actions. When they come back they are threatened by the KKK but I don't remember why. I DO remember that they spent Elsie's money on rebuilding plantations, because clearly THAT is where our priorities have to lie

The Violet and Laylie books are fanfiction. I don't think Kathleen's have anything to do with Elsie at all.

Oh, did I say books? Laylie only got one book, one nightgown, and some accessories for her collection. Kathleen, who was released a year later, got a shitton of stuff. Like, a mountain of stuff. I wonder what the difference between them is

I'm pretty sure Laylie's book does involve her escaping slavery but I never read it so idk. I do know that it plays heavily into Millie as her White Savior™ teaching her about God and how to read or whatever. I think Millie also teaches her about abolition which is fucking wild. Imagine a white girl explaining abolition to a slave

It's like they took everything American Girl did right when making Addy and said "we need to do the opposite of all of this"

Kathleen is both a ripoff of American Girl's Kit Kittredge and Girls of Many Lands's Kathleen (yep, same name and appearance).

The reason this line exists is the original Christian Homeschoolers considered American Girl to be pro-lesbian and pro-abortion. No American Girl didnt have any references to homosexuality or abortion at the time. Their first canon queer characters were in 2021 (Kira's gay aunts). As @jabberwockypie put it, everyone flipped out because AG partnered with Girls Inc "to fund after-school science programs and stuff" and god forbid, amirite?

And, yes, the red eye defect persists. It is SO funny

Here's an archived site about the collection, and another post about it by @dollysattictreasures. Anyway if anyone was given a Laylie doll as a child by your overly-religious parents, go give her a hug for me. And a gun

#life of faith #dolls #dollblr #mine

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p0ssywhippedcream · 2 years ago

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Apollo Quickies;

- Apollo and you breaking up when he falls in love with another

- Apollo dicking you down

- Apollo eating your pussy after days of him busy

- Apollo taking you in doggy style

- Prequel to wedding night, Apollo's proposal to you in the sun chariot!

- Making love to Apollo on your wedding night

- Riding Apollo (cheesy haiku ahead)

- A tease and a bath with Apollo (mentions of being a daughter of Dionysus)

- Apollo HCs of a s/o with bad music taste

- Apollo and love at first sight

- Threesome with Ares and Apollo

- Basically cumming on the spot after days without sex w/ Apollo

- Apollo x virgin!reader with her first time

- Apollo being sweet when reader gets insecure abt herself after sex

- Apollo with Daughter of Hades!Reader meeting your dad as your bf for the first time

- Apollo with Daughter of Hades!Reader making you a goddess and taking you to Olympus with him after you die

- Apollo comforting newly immortal!reader as they figure out how to cope with it

- Immortal!Reader's reaction to seeing Apollo's true form for the first time

- Slow soft sex with Apollo

- Apollo w a goth gf!

- Apollo asking you to marry him during drunk, sweet sex

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ghostofhyuck · 10 months ago

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Gang AU Series 4

Mafia’s son! Lee Donghyuck x Politician’s daughter! Reader

Summary: “It’s you and me against the world.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were six when you first met Lee Donghyuck at a private dinner party.

Your father was a successful congressman in your district. He’s powerful, charismatic, and favoured by the public. You grew up knowing the two sides of your father. One is the congressman, and the other one is the shady businessman.

That’s where you met Donghyuck. He was the son of your father’s most trusted man in the underground scene. They are highly influential, but make it illegal. You knew that because your father backs up their business, and in exchange, is their security to your father, both in the legal and illegal perspectives.

“You can call me Hyuck!” he introduced, you only stared at him.

“Dear, it’s rude to only stare at people,” your father laughed. Your mother is somewhere, entertaining other visitors, and as much as you want to cling to your father the whole night, Donghyuck has other plans.

“Yn,” you said quietly.

“Son how about you bring yn to the playground, I’m sure you two will love it.” Donghyuck’s father said, your ears catch the attention of the word, ‘playground’, and before Donghyuck can ask you, you have already stood up from your seat, ready to enjoy the playground.

You ran your way towards the backyard of the Lee’s mansion. A full set playground was placed on the grass field, and you immediately raced towards the swing, sitting there idly.

“Do you want me to push you?” you turned around to see Donghyuck walking towards you.

“Please?”

That night brought you two closer. You two talked about childish things, like what you two want when you two grow up, or what you two think about each other’s parents. You told him about your vacations outside the country while he shared his life in Jeju.

Little you two know that both fathers are watching you two from the glass door of the mansion.

“Do you think they’ll be friends when they grow up?” Mr. Lee asked.

Your father only chuckled, “Wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up together too.”

You and Donghyuck grew up together. You witnessed him grow from that small, annoying child to a young, fine man. While he saw how that crybaby became a rebellious daughter of the congressman. You two were each other’s ride or die. Trouble is stuck with both of you, causing headaches from both families.

And to make it worse, you two fall in love with each other. A thing that was as easy as walking in the park. You two were madly in love with each other, that no one opposed it. Ever since you two were kids, the hints of you two marrying each other has always been on the tongues of your parents whenever you two are together. Back when you two were kids, you two would react as if it was the most disgusting thing in the world. But as you two grow older, you two realise that you are made for each other.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Donghyuck asked.

“I just have a bad feeling about this dinner party my family needs to attend,” you confessed. Years passed and your father is still a powerful man in the government. He is now running as a senator, and as his position becomes higher, so are the risks of him being exposed to being inclined with the underground scene.

But remembering that you’re dating the son of the Lee family, you tried to brush it off. You know that there’s no way Donghyuck will betray you.

You watched as Donghyuck fixed his position, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Then why don’t you just ditch it and sleep here with me?” he suggested, making you laugh.

“I can’t, it’s important for dad’s election, he said that we’ll be meeting a powerful businessman,” you told him.

“As powerful as my dad?”

“I guess, in a legal way,” you teased.

“You wouldn’t leave me for a cleaner guy won’t you?” he asked.

You broke from his arms, sitting up and looking at him with a confused look. “Hyuck, you know that I wouldn't do that to you.”

But your lover only smiled, “I'm just teasing you, come here.”

His lips were about to crash onto yours when a knock on the door separated you too. The door opened, revealing the head of the Lee family.

“Yn, your father’s looking for you now,” Mr. Lee said.

“Oh right,” you muttered. You left the bed, grabbed your things, and before you exit, you waved goodbye to Donghyuck and his father. Your boyfriend mouthed “Good luck!” to you while Mr. Lee could only offer you a nod. As you left, Donghyuck was confused on why his father’s still in front of his doorway.

“Son, we need to talk.”

Your father didn’t mention to you that the dinner party was a private event.

A small family entered your house. You were wearing a simple dress and wore light makeup since you’re just there for formality. Your father seems to be excited about the dinner, welcoming the man with a hug and a firm handshake. You heard your mother exhaling loudly, that’s when you become confused as you look at her eyes and she seems weary about the situation.

“Dear, let me introduce you the Na family,”

You only smiled as you greeted them.

“This is my daughter yn,” your father introduced. You gave them another smile and even bowed.

“Oh she’s lovely! Don’t you think Jaemin?” the older woman complimented.

You glanced at the boy who’s probably the same-age as yours. He smiles, and offers his hands. You only accepted it, and to your surprise, he kissed it.

“It’s nice to meet you yn,” he said, giving you his bright smile once again.

Your heart started to beat fast, that you could only give him a nod as you let go from his touch. Your father excused that maybe you were just flustered about the action, offering them to continue the conversation.

You felt tense during dinner. Something about the family felt like a bad idea. Your parents kept the conversation alive, and all you can hear is about politics and business, perhaps it’s another campaign support for the upcoming election.

You also found it weird, how the mother tried to swoon you at how handsome and good Jaemin is with everything. As if she’s trying to sell her son to you. It was a good thing your mother dived into the conversation, trying to save you from the awkward atmosphere.

“I assume that you have a boyfriend,” Jaemin said, approaching you who’s standing outside all alone. After dinner, you decided to get some fresh air. You feel like there’s something weird about the occasion. It wasn’t the usual campaign party that your father would hold. Usually it’ll be filled with a lot of people. But this private dinner party that involved only one family was sketchy.

“I do, we’ve been together for four years,” you said proudly, thinking about Donghyuck. “And he has been my best friend since we were kids.”

Jaemin only pursed his lips, bitterly smiling. “Damn, it must’ve hurt then.”

You creased your forehead, “What do you mean?”

Jaemin turns around and looks at the glass window. There, you can see your parents laughing together with his parents.

“Didn’t they tell you? This is our first meet-up before we get engaged officially.”

You fell deaf from your surroundings. You only looked at Jaemin, and the only thing that he can offer is a bitter smile. You couldn’t say anything to him, and as you stood there frozen, only one person came into your mind.

Donghyuck.

No. You don’t like the idea. You hated the idea. You wanted to be with Donghyuck. You love him, and you want to spend the rest of your life with him. This is stupid. All those years of hinting of marrying him suddenly switched? What happened? You can feel a headache coming all of the sudden.

“Excuse me,” you said, leaving Jaemin alone there.

You enter the house and while your parents called your attention, you ignored them, storming to your room and closing it with a loud thud.

You paced back and forth, not noticing that your parents entered your room.

“Yn, is there something —”

“Tell me that it’s not true!” you shouted.

Both of your parents looked at each other, before your father looked at you with an apologetic look. “Dear, I am sorry —”

“No! You will not have me married off to someone I don’t even know!”

“Yn, please just listen to us,” your mother pleaded.

“We officially cut ties with the Lee family,” your father announced. “It’s for your own good.”

“For my own good? All I know is that you don’t want to be ruined for the upcoming election!”

“I did what I needed to do! You should start thinking that your foolish love can bring you in danger,” your father lectured. “They are dangerous people yn.”

You only stared at your father. Tears forming from your eyes. “No, I will never let you use me for your political gain. Never again, not when you did it back when I was a kid. I will never marry Jaemin.”

The room became quiet. You can see the anger from your father’s eyes, and the worried look from your mother. As you had a staring contest with your father, he could only give up. He knows that it is hard for you to process everything. You’ll take things slowly, and soon, you’ll come to understand why he did it.

“Give it time to think,” your father said quietly, and in a second, he leaves along with your mother.

As soon as you heard the doors close. You grabbed your phone, teary-eyed as you searched for Donghyuck’s number.

“Hey! How’s the dinner party —”

That’s when you started to cry. You poured your heart out to your boyfriend who didn’t do anything but comfort you. Donghyuck listened to you attentively, waiting for your signal for him to speak, let alone say anything. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror anymore, all you know is that you’re ruined with your creased dress and distraught makeup.

“So, what now?” Donghyuck asked after a few minutes.

“Hyuck, I love you,” you said. “I love you so so fucking much that I wanted to be with you. This is so fucking stupid, I was fine with marrying you. I wanted to grow old with you. You’re the only one that I want.”

“I love you too,” Donghyuck quickly answered. “But your parents —-”

“Fuck them Hyuck, I had enough with them,” you said with a serious tone. You looked at your door, and the vicinity of your room, until a certain object caught your eyes.

“Donghyuck, let’s run away.” you suggested.

There was a moment of silence. “Are you serious?”

“Hyuck listen please,” you mumbled. “It’ll come to a point that my parents will force us to break up and I would rather die than to be separated from you. I just…I just want to be free from my parents Hyuck.”

“Yn, you’re fucking crazy,” your boyfriend said. “My father already told me about it. Your father cut our connections with him, saying that it’s time for a change and he doesn’t want to be involved with our business anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck said. “It’s not your fault, and I’m with you in this one.”

You were relieved to hear those words. It was another chance for you. Another life waiting for you and it’s with the love of your life. Far from the politics and your controlling parents. It’s what you’ve been looking for.

“Meet me at the yacht port at two am tonight, just pack light okay?”

You made sure to follow Donghyuck’s instructions. You managed to sneak out of your place without being caught by your parents. The night was dark and empty and yet, you couldn’t help but feel excited. The feeling of eloping with Donghyuck excites you. You couldn’t wait for what the future holds for you.

As you reached the port, you became nervous. You looked at your watch and it was ten minutes past two am, you scanned the place. It was empty and quiet. The only thing you can hear is the waves crashing against the huge dock.

“Yn,” you turned around and to your relief, it was your lover. You ran towards him and crashed him with a hug.

“Hyuck, what’s the plan —-”

You stopped your tracks, hands caressing his face, your eyes wandered to his, but it seems like he wasn’t gazing at you. His eyes were cold and dead, as if you were a stranger. That’s when you realized what it meant.

“Please, don’t do this to me,” you stuttered, but he only looked away, even tapping your hands away from him. You tried to hold onto him but Donghyuck took a step back, you reached out for him but it’s obvious that he doesn’t want you to be near him.

“I’m sorry yn,” Donghyuck said, his tone bearing coldness. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hyuck please, not you too,” you pleaded. Tears are falling from your eyes. You couldn’t help but let out a huge cry as your knees began to wobble in shock. Dropping to the concrete ground.

You couldn’t believe it. It hurts when your parents betrayed you, but it killed you when it came from the person who you loved wholeheartedly. The person you gave all of you that you’re sure that there’s nothing left with you. It hurts that he even led you on, gave you hope that he was willing to throw away everything just to be with you.

“It’s just not meant to be yn,” he said one last time, and you can hear his footsteps fading, leaving you there alone.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct haechan fic #nct haechan #nct haechan imagines #nct dream haechan #haechan fic #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #donghyuck #lee haechan #nct 127 haechan

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lethalchiralium · 2 years ago

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Will Never Be Enough | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i am so sorry, but i’m trying to make this series as realistic as possible so that would include natural things that happen. :( it wouldn’t be a lethalchiralium series if there wasn’t angst… also the 141 are ride or die for you and the kids. it’s just canon i have nothing else to say 🤷‍♀️

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of blood, miscarriages, vague descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of babies and children.

summary: "Simon, I need you." The Lieutenant dropped the papers he was holding, they flew across the office floor. "I'm on my way." OR, Simon comes home to find you in a puddle of blood.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

It had been a couple weeks since the appointment, and he didn’t expect you to feel sick for this long after. It worried him, but you assured him that it was fine; you had been sick for a while with Mellie, that you would be better soon. He took your word for it and let you rest.

He had made Winnie her breakfast of strawberry pancakes and sat her in front of the television, he held Mellie against his chest. She was sated, little belly full of formula and snoring away on his shoulder. He had made you food and was waiting for you to come down to eat, but he wasn’t worried about when you did. He was satisfied knowing that you would have had something to eat, that he would hopefully beg Price nice enough to come home early. His one arm that held Mellie kept her snug against his chest, he was putting up plates in the cabinets from washing them the night before. He made the mental note to get more baby spoons because Mellie had no longer liked most of them.

“Dad! Done!” Winnie called from the coffee table, he looked over his shoulder to her. She was holding up her clean purple plate so he could see, strawberry stained the front of her face. He closed the cabinet and grabbed a tea towel, moving from the kitchen and into the living room. The chestnut haired girl bounced on her feet to meet him in the middle, he kneeled and gently wiped her face.

“Is Mama still sick?” Winnie moved her face away from the tea towel, but he still cleaned her face as she moved awkwardly to miss his massive hand.

“Yeah, duckling.” He nodded and stood, walking back into the kitchen while his small daughter followed. He tossed the tea towel onto the counter, making a note to put it in the laundry later, before moving towards the fridge. “You still hungry?” He opened it, glancing over the leftovers he had for you last night, beverages, and jars of baby food to look for those little oranges Winnie liked.

“Nuh-uh.”

He closed the fridge when he didn’t see them, glancing down to the baby in his arm before he looked to his oldest daughter. “Get your bag, love, gonna go check on Mum.”

The girl in pigtails her father had put in earlier bounced on her feet, disappearing back into the living room. Simon turned towards the counter across from the fridge, grabbing the plate of food with a fork on it before making his way upstairs.

Mellie’s little hand gripped onto his t-shirt when he nudged his bedroom door open, making his way to your side of the bed in the light that seeped through from the hallway. He quietly settled your plate of food on your nightstand before moving back out of the room, towards Mellie’s room. He opened the door and quickly moved towards her crib, peeling his little one from his chest before placing her delicately on her back on the small mattress. Her crib creaked when Simon leaned forwards to kiss her forehead, he was quick to move away and out her room - when the door closed, it was silent. He slipped back into his bedroom and to your side, he could see your silhouette in the middle of the bed underneath the plush duvet.

He leaned a knee onto the side of the bed, a hand settled on your cheek as he spoke, “Sweetheart.”

You grunted in annoyance. “Don’t wake me unless someone is dying or the house is on fire.”

Simon chuckled, petting your hair. “Put your food on your nightstand, I’m takin’ Wins to school soon.”

Your arms moved to stretch over your head as he leaned forwards, his lips meeting yours. A smile on your lips, your hands now found his chest to gently pull him off. “Baby, I’m still sick.”

“Don’t care.” He mumbled, pressing another kiss to your lips before his hands began to tug down the duvet. He moved himself down the bed, quickly tugging up his old t-shirt on you to press his lips to the small swell of your stomach, where that little baby was growing. His little baby, half of him and half of you. “Quit makin’ your mum sick, all she’s doin’ is lovin’ ya.”

With a final kiss to his unborn son, he moved back to place his lips on your forehead, feeling the skin a lot warmer than he had expected. He leaned back into his knees, nodding towards the food on the nightstand. “‘m takin’ Duckling to school, Mel’s asleep. You need to eat.”

You nodded, your hand reached for his and he instantly took it. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, you smiled at him.

“I won’t be long, tryin’ to get Price to let me off early.”

You shook your head, dismissing it. “I’ll be fine, baby. I’ll call you if I need you.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, a promise that he would be home soon.

—

Ghost desperately wanted it to be a slow day, but no. Active drills and testing on soldiers, Laswell was in for a debrief this morning, and a mention of a new deployment soon. He wasn’t very happy about it, but he said nothing. He would discuss it with you when he got home.

He had papers in his hand as he marched down to Price’s office; sergeants and privates diving out of his way to avoid his so-called ‘wrath’. All it was was a stare or the occasional pin onto the wall, nothing serious. In his hands were training reports on seasoned soldiers, descriptions of how their skills have improved and all that bullshit.

The man was tired, all he wanted to do was go home and lay in his bed underneath the dog pile of his daughters and wife. Maybe eat a sandwich or go for a run, but he had to be on base. He didn’t even have the time to look at Price this morning, this report was his saving grace to go home and make sure you were okay. He was itching to leave right this moment, but you’d never tell from his mask.

He knocked on Price’s door, not even waiting for permission to enter before he swung open the door. He shut the door behind him, moving to stand in front of Price.

“Got the reports-“

Ghost’s phone rang in his pocket, papers in his clutch as Price‘s voice died in his throat. His captain gave him a nod, letting Simon fish his phone out. He saw your pretty face on his screen and pressed the phone to his ear, concerned why you were calling him at one in the afternoon. He was about to get Price to let him leave earlier so he could take care of you and the girls.

“Hi, are you okay?”

“Simon, Simon-“ Your sobs were loud. “I need you.”

He dropped the papers he had onto the floor of Price’s office and booked it. “Baby, hey, I’m on my way.” He said, shoving past privates and his friends, who called after him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Ever-Everything, there’s- There’s so much blood- I think-“ A loud sob. “I think I’m losing the baby.”

He felt like throwing up.

His hand went to his pocket, ripping out his keys but dropping them onto the concrete. He didn’t even have the time to pick them up before someone else did, he looked up to see Price.

He couldn’t see how badly he was shaking, all he could do was listen to you say, “It hurts so much.” Price moved around to the other side of his car, getting into the driver’s seat while he got into the passenger seat. He felt the car move as the back doors opened, he knew it was Soap and Gaz. Price didn’t even wait for them to close their doors before he pressed the pedal to the metal.

“I’m comin’, baby. Hold on.” He answered. “Talk to me, sweet girl.”

“Please,” Your voice cracked, sobs followed after. “Simon.”

His hand was shaking so bad, he could feel it now. His brain shut off, he could only feel fear as it tore through his entire being like fire. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t ever dare to - not when it took so long to find you.

The fifteen minute drive home was made in seven, flat. Simon was out of the car before Price even put it in park. He ran. He sprinted into the house, not caring that the front door slammed against the wall. He’d fix it later. He took the stairs three at a time, hearing his daughter crying in your en-suite bathroom. He frantically ran down the hall, opening the bedroom door. The light from the bathroom lit up the room, he didn’t stop running until he almost went face first into the door frame. He was breathing hard, eyes now fixated on you.

Blood stained the floor of the bathroom and the bottom of the shirt of his you were wearing. Mellie was sat in your arms, tears stained her cheeks as she cried loudly. Your face looked paler, tears dripping down onto the crown of your daughter’s head. Your face was contorted into one in pain, one hand on the small bump of your belly.

“LT!” He heard Soap call, he turned his head towards the doorway of his bedroom.

“Up here!”

He then came to your side, kneeling beside you as the rumble of boots against the hardwood stairs were loud, making Mellie cry harder. Your hand reached for him, gripping onto his uniform as his own hand settled on your cheek. He glanced down at the blood that pooled around your legs. “What happened?”

“I-I felt sick and-and I got up and- there was-“ Sobs kept falling from your mouth, chest trembling and making the eight month old screech. “I can’t-“ Your face went to your daughter, pressing a kiss to her head as she kept crying. “Mels, please, baby-“

He was quick to remove his hand from your face, taking his daughter in his grasp before turning towards the bedroom. Gaz and Soap stood in it, Price behind them, all of them gazing through the doorway. Every single one of his friends’ faces had concern written all over them.

“Gaz.”

The Sergeant immediately came forwards, taking the little one in his grasp and leaving the bathroom. Simon turned back to you, grabbing your other hand and squeezing. You tried to take a deep breath, but hiccuped harshly. “It hurts, Simon. It hurts, it hurts.“ Your eyes screwed shut, he felt your knuckles pop as you kept squeezing his hand.

“I know.” He murmured, moving one arm to go underneath your knees. Your body was shaking, he was shaking, he didn’t know how to stop it, he wanted to stop it.

Your voice was nothing but a whisper, body trembling as he picked you up. “My baby.”

“Simon, what’s happened?” Price spoke, he probably noticed the blood on the floor that had seeped through your underwear. Simon felt his skin grow cold when he felt the blood against his forearm, moving into the bedroom before grabbing a blanket from the chair next to the dresser. He did his best to cover you, Soap immediately came to his aid. He pulled the blanket up to your neck while Simon awkwardly wrapped you in the gray blanket.

As soon as Soap had moved away, Simon was gone. Down the steps, through the hallway while hearing his infant daughter screeching in the kitchen. He kept his eyes on you, your eyes screwed so tight and hollow sobs echoed from your lips.

He didn’t hear Price tell Soap to go get Winnie from school, he didn’t listen when Price told Gaz to stay with Mellie, that he was going with Simon.

It was like the world was in slow motion when he stepped down the front porch, but it zipped by when Price’s hand landed on his shoulder. Simon didn’t even turn to look at Price.

“She’s miscarrying.”

———

hi. simon is great dad and you can’t convince me otherwise, he’s the best husband he can be so part 2 will be soon i promise :(

———

#simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x you #simon riley x wife!reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium

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