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punkshort · 4 months ago

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In Another Life | Part I

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)

Chapter Summary: Your brother and his friend surprise you after work with a handsome stranger crashing on your couch who claims to be from Ancient Rome.

Chapter Warnings: language, food consumption, major romcom vibes, mentions of prostitution, mentions of OC death, mentions of OC pregnancy, flirting, sexual tension

WC: 6.5K

A/N: this is a soft/romcom Marcus Acacius mini-series. Heavily inspired by Kate & Leopold. Also, let's just assume Ancient Romans spoke and could read English.

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Time was of the essence. He had to move quick.

People would say he was a coward, no doubt his legacy would be tarnished, but if he escaped with his life, so be it.

He didn't bother with spare clothes, just an extra set of sandals and food thrown into a satchel before he crept down the dimly lit hallway, careful not to wake one of his many servants.

He loved his palace. It was a place of peace and comfort for him, but come morning, it would be ripped away and he would be thrown into the pit. A general, Rome's deadly sword and the Emperor's right hand man, would become a lowly gladiator. Trained to perform and kill for amusement.

And all because he refused to play the Emperor's sick game.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't help train another legion of young men half his age to fight and die for their vanity. For their greed. When the Emperor announced his new task, all he could think of was his unborn son. He would be of age now, had he lived. He could have been training him to die.

He padded down the stone steps softly, hardly making a sound, his combat training serving him well. He managed to get just outside the city limits while it was still dark, but he could see the glow from the sun breaking the horizon. He didn't have much time to find a place to hide. He was still too close, and no doubt warriors would be looking for him once Geta realized he had fled.

Gods above, if they found him... his fate would be far worse than one of a gladiator.

He stumbled across a small clearing, head twisted around to make sure he was not being followed when he tripped over something large and heavy.

"Oh, shit!" he heard a young male voice exclaim.

Quickly, he unsheathed his sword and aimed it toward the voice. Confusion painted his face when he saw the unusual clothing and utterly strange contraption behind him. Before he had a chance to say anything, leaves rustled and he swung is sword towards the noise. Another young man, similarly dressed to the other, emerged from the thicket.

"State your names. Quick."

"Uh..." the first man trailed off, hands raising slowly in the air. "D-Danny. Daniel. And this is... Victor."

"Dude! C'mon! You know I -"

"Silence!" the general roared as loud as he dared. "What is your business here?"

"Science! Just... experiments. And the like," Danny said hurriedly, glancing at Victor for help. He nodded.

"Yes. Experiments."

"And are you citizens of Rome?"

They paused and looked at one another again.

"We are citizens of... York," Danny said.

"It's new," Victor added.

The general looked back and forth between the two men before ultimately deciding he did not have the time to quarrel with them and they did not appear to be a threat. He dropped his sword to the side and glanced around.

"You did not see me," he said sternly, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

He glanced back over his shoulder, pausing.

"Are you running away?"

"Fleeing," Victor added quietly.

"Fleeing?" Daniel repeated.

"I do not see it fit for you to ask such questions of someone above your station," he snarled. The two men exchanged worried looks before continuing.

"We're leaving. If you're looking to jet, you can... y'know," Danny said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder towards the strange looking contraption.

"Can you get me to Greece?"

They grinned and nodded.

"Sure, dude."

The general glanced around once again, his brow furrowing when he saw the light stretching high into the sky, brightening the landscape and soon, giving his position away.

"Then I accept."

He sheathed his sword and stomped over to the men, startling them both with his intensity.

Victor turned to unlock a door, struggling a bit before it popped open and crawling inside. Danny stuck out a hand and gave him a nervous smile.

"What's your name?"

His eyes dropped down to the frail looking hand before him, then slowly, as if he couldn't decide, lifted his arm to grasp the inside of Daniel's forearm, giving him a vigorous shake.

"General Marcus Acacius."

"What the fuck?" you grumbled under your breath, rereading your brother's text.

Danny: I have a friend crashing on the couch, won't stay long

Shuffling your bag onto your other shoulder as you walked down the bustling city street, you tapped out a response.

You: It better not be Lizard.

Danny: It's not, but he's here 2

Danny: Just visiting

Fucking Lizard. You've known him since he was maybe ten years old and you were fairly certain he never matured past that age.

Given you had two extra people waiting for you in your already cramped apartment, you decided to grab a couple pizzas on the way home instead of the sushi you had been thinking about all day. Choosing to be a little selfish, you made one of them a white pizza, it being your favorite, and made your way home with the last bits of energy you had left.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you walked into that day.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you stepped into your apartment, door wide open behind you, two pizza boxes balancing in one hand as you stared blankly at the massive man standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room. He was dressed in some strange type of robe that fell just above his knee and his head was bent, looking at something on your coffee table.

When you cleared your throat, he swung around and defensively placed a hand at his waist. That was when you noticed the massive and very real looking sword at his side and your blood ran cold.

"D-Danny!" you yelled, your eyes glued to the stranger's hand. As if he finally sensed your fear, he dropped his arm and straightened up.

"Apologies-"

"Danny!" you yelled again, louder this time.

"Yeah? Hey! Sorry," Danny said, hurrying into the room with Lizard following on his heels.

"Oh, pizza? Sweet," Lizard said, reaching for the boxes and brushing past you as if an armed man wasn't standing in the middle of your home.

"Who the hell is this?!" you exclaimed, pointing towards the stranger while glaring at your brother.

"I told you already, he's a friend who's crashing on the couch for a few days," he replied, following Lizard into the kitchen, pizza the only concern at that point.

"My lady," the man began again, "please allow me to explain."

"My lady?" you repeated with a scowl. "I thought you guys stopped playing Dungeons and Dragons after high school."

"That's not -" Danny shook his head with a mouthful of pizza, "this is General Acacius."

"General?" you said quizzically, raising an eyebrow first at Danny, then towards the large man in your living room. "Be serious, Danny."

"He is!"

"I promise, what he says is true," the general chimed in, taking a step closer and stretching out his hand. You sighed and dropped your things onto your table.

"I'm too tired for this, it's been a long week."

The general frowned, hand still outstretched. "Daniel, please explain to your mistress she is not to challenge men above her lover's ranking."

You balked and gagged. "Lover?!"

"Mistress?" Danny said at the same time with a similar look of disgust. "Gross, dude, she's my sister."

Something in the general's face shifted when he learned you were siblings and he looked at you with renewed interest. "Ah, so you do not belong to another?"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a plate, tossing a piece of white pizza on it before Danny and Lizard ate it all. "I don't have a husband, no. And that's a super sexist thing to say, I don't care if you're role playing or not."

Turning around to exit the kitchen, you were surprised to find the general somehow snuck up on you. Standing just a few feet away, you nearly ran into his strong, broad chest. He lifted a hand to tilt your chin up and whatever biting remark you had locked and loaded died on your tongue. You finally allowed yourself to get a good look at him. Dark, brooding eyes. Thick, brown curls dusted in grey, the color matching his beard. Sharp, angular nose and pouty lips.

Okay, so he was good looking. That didn't negate the weird dress and obvious mental illness.

"Your name?" he murmured softly, finger still hooked under your chin.

You cleared your throat and responded with your name, to which he nodded before dropping his hand. His gaze drifted to your plate and his nose wrinkled. "What is this you are eating?"

"Pizza?" you replied, squeezing up against your counter so you could get past him and get some space. "Help yourself."

"What is pizza?" you heard him ask Danny. You collapsed onto the couch with a groan and took a bite, fully not in the mood for whatever weird shit your brother had going on.

"It's Italian, you'll like it," Danny replied.

The three men trailed in from the kitchen to join you in the living room, your moment of peace and quiet over.

"This appears to be some bastardized version of flatbread," the general said, lifting the piece of pizza and giving it a tentative sniff. "What is this red? Some kind of pepper paste?"

"It's tomato sauce."

"Alright, enough with this bullshit please," you said, but the men ignored you.

You watched as he took a bite and almost instantly spit it out. "This is vile."

"Hey, that's authentic New York City pizza. Nothing vile about it," Lizard said. You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"General - I'm sorry, I'm not calling you that. What's your real name?"

"That is my real name," he answered, cocking his head at you from the other end of the couch.

"General Marcus Acacius," Danny told you, cursing under his breath when he dropped some cheese on his shirt.

"Okay, Marcus," you began, but he shook his head.

"It is quite inappropriate for you to -"

"I don't give a shit, I'm not calling you General like I'm in the fucking army!"

The room fell quiet as you glared at Marcus, daring him to say another word. When it became evident he wasn't going to, you took a deep breath and continued.

"If you don't like the sauce, there's another pizza in the kitchen without it. Go try that," you said, voice a little softer now. He nodded and rose to go find the white pizza, leaving just the three of you for the first time.

"What the fuck, Danny?!" you whispered angrily. "Why the hell is there a guy in a dress pretending he's a fucking general in my home?"

"He is a general," Danny whispered back. "From Ancient Rome. I'll explain everything later," he said, straightening up when Marcus's footsteps approached.

"This is far better. Thank you, my lady."

"Oh, look at that. You already have something in common," Lizard said with a fake, syrupy voice. "You both love gross pizza."

"Thought you just said authentic New York City pizza can't be gross?" you sneered.

"Boom! She got you, Lizard," Danny laughed. Marcus looked around the room, confused.

"You said your name was Victor, did you not?"

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth with a napkin.

"Lizard's just his nickname. His real name is Victor," Danny explained.

"Yeah. No one calls me Victor. Just like no one calls you Marcus," Lizard explained.

"Only those dearest to me are allowed to use that name," he explained. "Such as a parent or a lover." His eyes flickered up to you quickly before focusing on his pizza once again.

"Does that make you his lover now?" Lizard teased. You kicked a foot out and jabbed him in the hip.

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"Do you not follow the proper steps to obtain a lover in your land?" he asked, genuine curiosity painting his face. "It is much more than simply calling another by a name. If a man were to deem a woman acceptable, he would make an arrangement with her father to wed." He scratched his chin in thought for a moment before adding, "unless, of course, she is a whore."

Lizard and Danny doubled over, howling with laughter while you stared daggers at them both.

"Did I say something to warrant such laughter?" Marcus asked you. You rolled your eyes.

"No, you did not."

"Rule number one, General," Danny said, gasping for air and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Don't call girls whores."

Marcus looked taken aback.

"I meant no offense. A whore is a common profession where I am from. There is no shame in it."

"Alright, can we stop talking about whores?" you asked, exasperated.

"Yeah, good idea. Let's find you some clothes to wear and we'll set up the couch so you can sleep. It folds out, don't worry," Danny told Marcus.

"My tunic should suffice," Marcus said, glancing down at his clothes.

"Uh, not in New York, man. Might stick out a little," Lizard joked, then stood to take his plate back in the kitchen for seconds.

"Depends on what side of town you're on," you mumbled under your breath.

"You can borrow something of mine," Danny said, standing up to go to his room. "You're a little bigger than me but I think I have something that'll work."

You eyed Marcus up over your plate, taking in the finer details of his appearance. "Where are you from? Really?" you asked. He turned to you with a sigh.

"Rome."

"Come on. You can drop the act, they're gone," you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I promise, I am telling you the truth," he replied, his gaze boring into you so intensely that it left you spellbound for a moment. "Your brother and his comrade found me on the outskirts of the city with some... contraption. They said they would take me to Greece, however it is clear this is not Greece."

"A contraption?" you repeated nervously. Oh, fuck.

He nodded. "I had never seen anything like it. I do not know what happened but once I entered, there were bright lights and a loud crack and... I must have lost consciousness. I woke in your lounge, utterly confused."

"Shit," you whispered, putting your plate down so you could angrily scrub your face with your hands. Danny, although very irritating and far too dependent on you for basic survival, was incredibly gifted. His intelligence stunned his teachers since he was three years old. He was doing long division at five and became fluent in Spanish at seven. By the time he entered high school, he had grown extremely interested in science, where he met Lizard. For years you had witnessed failed experiments and fireballs in your backyard, but you saw all their successes, as well. Since they were fourteen, Danny and Lizard talked about time travel and you always brushed them off, even when they began to build different devices throughout the years that claimed they were on the verge of a breakthrough, but of course, nothing ever came of it.

Until now.

No, that was crazy. There's no way they actually travelled back in time to Ancient Rome and returned with a Roman general... right?

"Why were you going to Greece?" you asked, tiredly dropping your hands in your lap.

He paused for a moment and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply right when Danny emerged from his bedroom with an armful of different clothing options.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow and find something else that will fit," he said, sheepishly handing over the clothes. Marcus slowly reached out and set them down on the cushion next to him.

"Thank you."

"Hey, I'm gonna take off," Lizard said from the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah, alright. Hey!" Danny said, swiveling around before he left. "You'll be back tomorrow, right? I need your help with the... thing."

You narrowed your eyes in his direction but remained silent. Once Marcus was asleep, you planned on having a very heated conversation with your brother, so you saved that little tidbit for later.

"Yeah, sure thing, man."

You stood to clean up the leftovers while you listened to Danny explain the concept of a pull-out couch to Marcus, then after that, a bathroom. The more time that passed, the more nervous you became. What if this was real? Was it even possible?

Quietly, you stepped out from the kitchen. Marcus was sitting on the edge of the pull out mattress, hands clasped together between his knees as he stared blankly at the floor. For the first time, you felt bad for him. If everything he said was true, he had to have been so confused and scared.

"Hey," you said softly. He lifted his head with a jolt of surprise. "Here's some water," you said, offering him a plastic bottle. He took it and frowned. "You twist the top to open it," you explained, ignoring how ridiculous it felt to tell a grown man how to open a bottle of water.

"Thank you," he replied, setting it down on the floor next to his bed.

"Do you need anything else?"

He shook his head and gave you a small smile. "No, my lady. Thank you for your hospitality."

"You're welcome," you said shyly, inching towards the little hallway that led to your bedroom. "We'll get you back home, Marcus. Don't worry."

He swallowed and smiled again. "Of course."

You smiled back and awkwardly clapped your hands together. "Well, if you need anything at all, just knock on one of our doors."

He nodded and with a sigh, began to peel back the sheets.

"Good night, my lady," he said once your back was turned. You swiveled back around and gave him a little wave, his deep brown eyes looking breathtaking in the evening light.

"Good night."

Flustered, you knocked into the doorframe on your way back to your room. Cursing under your breath and rubbing your shoulder, you slipped behind your door, finally putting an end to your humiliation.

The next morning you sipped your coffee in your kitchen as you replayed the argument you had with Danny the night before once you were sure Marcus was asleep.

"You need to get him back home. Tomorrow, Danny," you had said sternly.

"There might be a slight hiccup with that," he replied, bracing himself for your anger. "The machine needs repairs."

"What the fuck do you mean?!" you seethed as your paced around his cluttered room.

"Don't worry, sis! We can fix it! But we just need a couple days."

"How many days?" you asked with a glare.

Danny shrugged. "Two. Three."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"A week, tops."

"A week?!"

"Shh! You'll wake him up!" he scolded, pointing angrily towards the door. "Lizard's coming over tomorrow, we'll get working on it right away. Something happened on impact when we returned, I didn't factor in modern day atmospheric pressure originally, but -"

"I don't give a shit what the reason is, you just need to fix it! You have no clue what the ramifications are by keeping him here! You could alter the course of history or something!"

"You watch too many movies," Danny chuckled, but quickly stopped and cleared his throat when he saw the look on your face. "I'll fix it. Promise."

The caffeine hadn't even had a chance to enter your bloodstream before Danny woke and dropped yet another problem onto your lap.

"Do you think you can take him shopping for some clothes today while me and Lizard work on this thing?" he asked as he poured cereal into a bowl.

"So now I'm running errands for you?" you snapped.

"C'mon, don't be like that," he replied as he put the carton of milk back in the fridge. The dynamic between you and your brother was wearing thin. It was always up to you to be the levelheaded one while he just allowed the wind to take him wherever it pleased, completely carefree while you harbored all the stress of basic responsibilities.

"Try to just enjoy the adventure for once," he added before messily scooping cereal into his mouth.

"Yeah, right," you grumbled under your breath before bringing your mug to your lips and taking another sip.

"So, is that a yes?"

"Fine," you said with a roll of your eyes. "If only so I can get away from this apartment and the inevitable chaos those repairs will bring. Just don't piss off my neighbors, okay?"

"Deal."

"Good day," you heard Marcus's deep voice rumble behind you. You jumped and swiveled around, gaze flickering down briefly to take in his borrowed clothes. Danny was right, he needed something that fit.

"Morning, General," Danny said with a grin. "Sleep well?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Even with all the noise outdoors... tell me, is it ever silent here?"

"No," you both said in unison. He nodded and looked down at his tunic, which was crumpled up in his fist.

"Do you have a servant I can give this to for washing?"

"That would be me," you said, stretching out your arm. Marcus hesitated for a moment.

"The lady of the house shouldn't have to perform such arduous tasks."

"I agree, yet here we are," you said, taking the tunic and tossing it over your shoulder. "I have to put in a load, anyway."

You changed your clothes and freshened up while listening to your brother scrape together some type of meal for Marcus that he found acceptable, then pressed the button on your tiny washing machine before heading back into the kitchen.

"Ready?"

Marcus glanced between you and Danny while chewing the last piece of a baguette.

"My sister's gonna take you shopping for some clothes," Danny explained. Marcus looked down at his attire and nodded.

"To the market, then?" he asked you, trailing after you as you tossed your bag over your shoulder and walked down the hallway towards the elevators.

"Something like that."

"I have plenty of denar," he said as you jabbed the call button.

"Denar?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather satchel filled with unfamiliar coins. You grinned and shook your head.

"Don't worry, I got it."

"Please, your hospitality has already been gracious enough," he said, following you into the elevator when it opened.

"If you can find someone who will take that, then be my guest," you said, tapping the lobby button. He was about to say something else when the doors closed and the car violently jolted, startling him.

"What is this?"

"It's an elevator. It lifts us up and down so we don't have to take the stairs."

His jaw hung open in disbelief until the doors slid open to reveal the lobby, then he broke out into a huge smile.

"Incredible."

But once he followed you out onto the busy New York City street, peppered with pedestrians, bicyclists, couriers, and a sea of vehicles, then his eyes practically bugged out of his head.

"I see now where all the noise comes from," he said to you, raising his voice a bit over the commotion as you walked. It was actually endearing to see him experience the city for the first time, something you took for granted every day leaves most people in awe. It was easy to forget that.

"Stick close," you said with a small smile when you saw him tip his head back to gaze up at the towering skyscrapers.

"What is your profession, then?" he asked as he walked by your side. You noticed with envy that others on the sidewalk veered out of his way, his massive shoulders and hulking frame no doubt the reason, instead of brushing past him, like what most do to you every day.

"I write for a fashion magazine."

"Oh, so you're a poet?" he asked, intrigued. You shook your head with a small laugh.

"No. I write about romance in the lifestyle section. I have a column every month on a different topic and I also pick three reader questions to answer and publish on the website every week."

It was clear he hardly understood what you were talking about, so you stopped at the nearest newsstand and grabbed your magazine. After paying, you ushered him over to a bench and sat down while you thumbed through it.

"Ah! Here we go," you said, proudly handing over the magazine and tapping on the corner of the page.

"'Are Soulmates Real'?" he read aloud the title before frowning at you. You nodded.

"Yeah, I talk about the idea of soulmates and how it's putting too much pressure on the modern woman to find this perfect partner when in reality, they don't exist."

"And how do you know this?" he asked, clearly amused.

"I don't, but I wrote from experience," you shrugged.

"So, since you have not found a soulmate, that means they do not exist?"

"No, it's an opinion, Marcus," you explained, "the magazine pays me for my opinion and outlook on things."

He sighed and closed the magazine with a shake of his head. "I am sorry you feel that way."

"Are you saying you believe in soulmates?" you asked.

"Well, I cannot say one way or another from experience, but I like to believe they exist, yes."

"Do you have a wife or family waiting for you back home?" The thought hadn't even occurred to you before now and you felt guilty, but he shook his head.

"My wife died many years ago during childbirth," he said sadly, and your heart plummeted. "She was young and I had just made rank, so her father arranged our marriage in order to ensure a safe and comfortable life for his only daughter." He looked down at the magazine in his hands but he wasn't really reading it. He was too lost in thought.

"She was with child very quickly after we wed. I had not even known her a year by the time she passed, but the time I had with her was enjoyable. I thought very much one day we would learn to love one another," he said, giving you a sad smile. "Was not meant to be."

"I'm so sorry," you said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's horrible... I don't even know what to say."

"It was a long time ago now. I never did remarry, although I had many offers. I became entirely focused on war, fighting to keep Rome and her citizens safe. It is what I was meant to do," he said, exhaling loudly and looking around. "Is this what you feel you are meant to do?" he asked, holding up the magazine. You laughed, grateful for the change of subject.

"No, probably not."

He grinned and nodded in agreement. "Yes, I imagine you are destined for much more, my lady."

"You think so?" you asked, scrunching your nose self-consciously.

He nodded, his gaze drifting over your face solemnly.

"I do."

If elevators impressed Marcus, then the escalators within Bloomingdale's practically floored him. He was so enraptured with them that you had to nudge his shoulder to remind him to step forward before he tripped when you got to the top.

"This is unlike anything I have ever laid my eyes on," he said to you in wonder, his head rolling around on his shoulders as he gazed around at all the lights and signage.

"Yeah, Bloomingdale's is special," you said dreamily. "Sometimes I get to tag along with girls from work to pick out fashion samples for the magazine. It's always so much fun."

You led him over to the men's section and turned to study his broad frame. "You're probably an extra large," you said as you began to sift through the racks, picking out various shirts in different styles and colors and draping them over your arm. He watched you without saying a word, just occasionally feeling the material between his fingertips whenever he saw something that caught his eye. When you got to the pants, you paused and pursed your lips. Glancing around, you spotted a measuring tape left on one of the registers. Grabbing his hand in yours, you dragged him over and shoved the shirts in his arms.

"Here. Hold these while I measure your waist and inseam."

He frowned for a moment but did as you asked, then jumped when you wrapped your arms around his middle with the tape.

"Sorry, it will only take a second," you murmured, ignoring how muscular and firm he felt under your hands. You took note of the number and flushed when it came time to measure his inseam. You chewed on your lip and glanced around, searching for a worker to maybe do it instead, but none were nearby.

"Okay, I'm going to have to measure the length of your leg," you began to explain. "I need to... put my hand close to..." you trailed off and gestured vaguely towards his lap and it finally seemed to click.

"Oh," he said in surprise, glancing down. He cleared his throat and nodded but you could see the pink creeping up his neck.

"I'll be fast," you assured him, "unless you prefer I find someone else."

"No, that is quite alright," he told you, standing tall and tucking his hands behind his back. Glancing around the store once more, you fell to your knees with the measuring tape. You tried not to think about it, tried not to look, but his clothes were too snug as it was and it was right fucking there.

Jesus Christ, you had to get it together. You were not lusting after a time traveling Roman general in the middle of Bloomingdale's. But it was impossible to ignore the impressive looking bulge right at eye level.

"Okay," you said quickly, standing up so fast your head spun. "Got it, let's go."

You hurriedly dropped the measuring tape back on the counter and swiveled around, looking for men's pants while trying to hide how flustered you were. You grabbed a few pairs of jeans and khakis before adding them to Marcus's pile, and avoiding his eye, you pointed over to the corner.

"You can try them on in there."

You waited outside patiently, listening to him struggle with a zipper. You had to draw the line: there was no way you would help him with that. But when he emerged from the dressing room for approval wearing a nice fitting pair of jeans and a white polo shirt, you kind of missed those tight clothes from before. You gave him a smile and thumbs up and he grinned before stepping back into the dressing room. When he turned around and you saw his ass in those jeans, you tilted your head to the side and raised your eyebrows.

Okay, the new clothes weren't so bad, either.

You picked him out two pairs of pants, an assortment of shirts, and paid before going to the intimates floor to grab some underwear, socks, and pajamas. On the way to the men's section, you passed by some mannequins wearing lacy lingerie and robes. Marcus frowned and tugged on your elbow.

"What is that for?"

You glanced in the direction he was pointing and inwardly groaned.

"It's undergarments women wear," you explained, hoping to leave it at that, but he still had questions.

"What is the purpose of the colors if they are under your clothes?"

You sighed and pinched your nose. "It's for sex, okay?" you whispered to him, looking around quickly to make sure nobody could overhear you.

"Sex?" he repeated at full volume. You shushed him, your cheeks flaring with heat, but he just gave you a bewildered look. "Why must I be quiet?"

"We don't talk about sex in public here," you told him, voice still lowered. "It's inappropriate."

"Why on earth not?" he asked, but he kept his voice soft for your benefit as he followed you into the men's section. "Nothing is more natural or beautiful than sex."

"Yeah, well, I don't have all the answers, Marcus."

"And why would a woman drape herself in such garb? A woman's body is a work of art. It is meant to be worshiped and admired just as it is. One would not hang ornaments off a statue of Venus, so why would a woman -"

"I don't know, Marcus!" you said, grabbing a pack of boxers and then a pack of white socks. "Men just like it, I guess."

He scoffed and shook his head but chose not to say anything further when he picked up the agitation in your voice.

You paid for the rest of the clothes and handed him the bag to carry as you led him to the exit. "Are you hungry What do you usually eat around this time of day?"

"It varies. I quite like fish with some bread and cheese."

You thought about it for a moment before your face lit up and you snapped your fingers.

"I have an idea."

Right around the corner from Bloomingdale's was one of your favorite bagel places. You found a table outside and made him sit then hurried inside to order two lox bagels. You almost grabbed Diet Coke but then thought that might kill him, so instead you got two waters and met him back outside in less than ten minutes.

"Try this," was all you said, handing him a warm bagel wrapped in paper and smelling absolutely divine.

Carefully, he peeled the paper away and sniffed the bagel before taking a hesitant bite. You waited, your own bagel untouched, for his reaction. His eyes snapped up to yours and a slow smile spread across his face.

"This is magnificent."

You giggled and tore into the paper covering your own lunch. "I had a feeling you would like it. Fish, bread and cheese."

He nodded and took a bigger bite. "Very wise. Tell me," he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "How has no one asked your father for your hand in marriage? You are bright, strong and beautiful. I am shocked you are not taken."

You decided to let the taken comment go that time and swallowed your food before replying. "Our parents are dead, first of all. But secondly, even if someone was interested in marrying me, they wouldn't need to ask my father. They just ask the woman directly now."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "My apologies. I was unaware of your parents' passing."

"That's okay," you shrugged. "It was a long time ago. Danny was a teenager and I had just graduated high school." You looked up at him, realizing he wouldn't understand what that meant. "I was nineteen. I had to grow up fast and help keep an eye on Danny," you settled on saying, figuring that would sum it up enough.

He nodded and looked down at his food, quietly thinking over what you said. "Has a man ever asked for your hand?" he asked before taking another bite of food.

You laughed. "Uh, no."

"Why is that humorous?"

You sighed and glanced around. "I haven't exactly dated many winners." He cocked an eyebrow at you and you added, "I seem to only attract assholes."

"Ah," he said in understanding. "I am attracted to you. Does this make me an... asshole?"

Your eyelids fluttered and you nearly choked on your water. "W-what?"

"I said, I am attracted -"

"No, I heard you, I just needed a second to process what you said," you told him, feeling your heart beat loudly in your chest. He tilted his head at you curiously.

"Does this surprise you?"

You laughed and fanned the back of your neck nervously. "Um, yes, a little. People don't usually go around just announcing when they're attracted to someone. They're a little more subtle than that."

"Oh. Have I made you uncomfortable? I do apologize," he said, his deep brown eyes softening as he gazed at you across the table.

"It's okay, I just didn't expect it," you chuckled, waving him off and focusing on your food with a stupid smile stretched across your face. He watched you eat for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching as he replayed what you just told him.

"You did not say if you are attracted to me," he said, drawing your attention back up to him. "Is this because you are not, or are you being... subtle?"

You grinned and shook your head. "You have a weird way of flirting."

He smiled back, the creases next to his eyes deepening. "I told you. Where I am from, sex is not something to be ashamed of. It is enjoyable and discussed often. Unless one has devoted themselves to a life of celibacy."

Definitely not, you thought. He let the subject drop as he finished the rest of his lunch and sat back in his chair, looking around at the cars inching by and beeping their horns angrily. You remained quiet for a few minutes, debating on what to say, if you should say anything at all until you finally decided fuck it.

"I'm attracted to you, too."

His head swiveled in your direction and he grinned. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

You giggled in disbelief before you said, "you're welcome."

Something had shifted between you on the walk back to your apartment. It felt so different from just a few hours ago, and it wasn't just the shocking confession over lunch. You had learned a little more about each other, let the other in and shared personal details about your lives, trusting one another with your vulnerability. And for once, you didn't feel raw and exposed. Strangely, it felt like you could trust him. Maybe it was because you knew he would be gone in a few days and it didn't feel like you had much to lose.

However, when you got off the elevator and walked toward your apartment, the sounds of power tools and shouting coming from the other side of the door, Marcus stopped you. He plucked your hand from your side and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing over them gently while maintaining eye contact, the entire moment making your hands tremble and your heart to flutter excitedly in your chest.

"Thank you for today, my lady. I had a lovely time with you."

You smiled shyly at him and looked down at the ground.

"Me, too," you replied softly.

And it was then you realized you very much might have something to lose after all.

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ed-wwarren · 9 months ago

Text

Being the new guy in a new town was the worst. Even with all the experience Ed had with it, nothing ever got any easier. It didn’t help that he was dirt poor and could hardly afford shoes that didn’t have at least one hole in them.

His dad was an expert at gambling what little money they had away, pissing people off he owed money to, and then picking up and moving. Running away. It had been like this for as long as Ed could remember, this small town of Bridgeport, Connecticut the longest they had stayed in one place. A whole year now. What a record.

He always wondered if the past seventeen years of his life would have been different…better…if his mother hadn’t died giving birth to him.

Would he have been happy? Would his father?

Everything was his fault. Ed had felt for the longest time, and it didn’t help that his father said this to him daily, that he was responsible for killing his mom. He was a murderer at the tender age of one second old. He ruined his family before he could even walk and that thought kept him up at night.

That thought crossed his mind a lot, especially in times like these when he was alone and walking to school in the mornings. He felt alone and scared a lot of the time. Scared about what the future would hold. He had no one except his best friend Johnny but what was he supposed to do? Johnny was in the same boat as Ed as far as finances went and neither one of them had any plans for the future other than to somehow graduate high school.

The one thing Ed knew for sure as he walked up the stairs to the school doors, past the rich asshole kids who didn’t have a problem in life, he did not want to end up like his father. A broke, miserable drunk. He needed to start seriously thinking about what he was going to do with his life. Graduation was right around the corner, he already had a bag packed and hidden under his bed. When he graduated and turned eighteen, he was gone. Him and Johnny would move to New York maybe. Try to find a place there.

For now, he had first period English to look forward to.

@giftedclairvoyance

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rogersideup · 3 months ago

Note

I'd like to drop a prompt:

The avengers have a night off in Las Vegas after a mission. Thor makes sure Cap has his fair share of Asgardian liquor so Steve ends up drunk and wanders off alone. He meets our dear reader who just got dumped by her friend group and is equally drunk. They hit it off and decide to get married. The next morning both of them are confused but decide to make it work as memories of the night before come back to them. (Surprise surprise dear reader is from New York too)

‧₊˚✧⚁⁠♧777♤⚄✧˚₊‧

Steve Rogers X Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Steve gets himself into some trouble while having a night off in the city of sin.

Word Count: 4,717

Warning: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

"Miss?"

Flashing lights separated and splayed through the drying tears in your watery eyes, music and ringing from hundreds of slot machines overstimulated your senses as you simultaneously pulled your dress up and down in different places.

"Excuse me miss? Can I get you something to drink?"

Coming back to your senses, you turned around to face the bartender. "Yeah, uh..." really, you tried your hardest to think of something, literally anything to help move along the buzz you were already riding but no proper words made it to your brain. "Sorry. I'm not sure what I want. Can you just make it strong and fruity?"

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed, already grabbing bottles off the shelf.

Watching him masterfully work helped you zone out and relieved all of your overwhelmed senses. Pouring, shaking, more pouring, a garnish, then a fruity elixir of a bunch of liquids you most definitely could not pronounce was placed right in front of you atop a cocktail napkin. Not a single drop was spilled, even the ice was perfect.

Reaching into your purse, you handed the bartender your card and shouted to try and compete with the volume of drunken gamblers and rolling dice. "You can close the tab."

"Don't worry about it. This one's on the house, you look like you need it." He kindly denied your form of payment.

You chuckled to yourself. "That bad, huh?"

"No, but I know a sad chick when I see one." He noted. "Happens pretty often in Vegas."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate it." You raised the glass. "Cheers to you and all the bartenders making the world go round."

"Amen to that" He smiled before walking off to serve yet another drunken customer.

You sat at the bar on a little leather stool fully contemplating how you ended up in this situation as you looked out into the hotel casino and nursed your drink. It didn't take long for you to realize that the Vegas bartenders didn't take the word strong as a joke. Because every sip stung your throat and swirled your thoughts around in slow motion.

The speed at which your thoughts came at you didn't help the fact that every single one of them revolved around nothing but yourself.

What were you going to do now? Where should you go from here?

Drinking wasn't the answer, but not drinking wasn't the solution. Finding shelter in the Caesars Palace hotel was a good enough temporary fix to your problems, so you ignored that you were on the complete opposite side of the Las Vegas strip that you actually needed to be on.

However, getting to your hotel on the complete opposite side was the problem. Your shitty friends completely ditched you, or maybe you ditched them. The details were all so unclear, but the fact was they were all making stupid choices and you couldn't stand to stick around long enough to see the end results of them.

But now you were all done up in high heels and a small little dress in a city you had never been in before, notorious for sex, drugs and alcohol. Luckily, pepper spray in your purse and a back pocket full of self defense techniques that have been drilled into your head ever since you were a little girl were amongst some of the better choices you made tonight.

Then came along all of the dumber choices you would make tonight in the form of yet another fruity drink, and a tall, blonde man looking painfully confused at the roulette table right in front of you.

He was tall and broad, even more handsome than the massive statues of Roman men all around the hotel. But much like the statues around you, he looked like he was carved from marble. The muscles you could see sculpted through his suit jacket could've only been a result of a piece of fine art.

It was easy to pick up his wholesome sweetness behind his big blue eyes, that also did a lot to tell you how drunk the man was. He towered over the table and watched a few rounds, trying his hardest to understand what was happening. Much like him, you watched the ball spin round and round before landing in a slot.

Some of the players would moan and groan at their fate, while others would cheer happily and exchange loud laughter and high-fives.

Mesmerized by the game, you missed the glances the blonde man snuck of you. He really couldn't help it though. His friends had left him all alone while his capacity to make good decisions was at an all time low, and you were just so pretty and maybe a bit sad.

Another round was about to start, so the dealer started taking bets. Everyone around the table started placing their chips on a color and number, and the blonde was still confused.

He looked around again before his eyes met yours, and a stupid invasive smile smeared across your lips. When he noticed your friendly demeanor, he took a few stumbles over to you.

"Do you have any idea how to play this?" The man asked you.

Now you could smell the expensive yet deliciously pleasant cologne he was wearing, and you could take in all the details of his black suit.

Giggling at his cluelessness, you swallowed down the sip of cocktail in your mouth. "I do. Would you like some help?"

"I'm assuming you have to guess if the ball lands on red or black?" He asked as his lopsided smile and squinted eyes told you everything you needed to know about his sobriety... or lack there of.

"That's exactly it, good job." You nodded. "But you can also guess the number, or a group of numbers it'll land on. The payout at the end is based on how accurate your bet is."

"So what should I bet?" He asked you, having already built a strong sense of trust for you in the few minutes he had been observing.

"Oh no, that's not up to me." You shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. "You gotta trust your own gut."

The man's eyes darted around the table once more before his arms motioned to it. "But look around! All of these men have pretty girls telling them what to do, and that's why they're all winning money. You guys are so much smarter than us, and I'm alone so I need you to tell me. Red or black."

Usually, a statement like that from a man like him would have you rolling your eyes and cutting the conversation short. However, either your gut or the alcohol was telling you that he wasn't an asshole.

For some reason, you felt calm and comfortable in his presence all while being unable to wipe the dumb smile off your face. Something about his hair that was once perfectly styled now being a little jostled, and the twinge of pink in his cheeks made him seem so distantly familiar.

"Well thank you for that backhanded compliment." You laughed. "I think you should bet red."

He nodded, trusting your opinion far more than he trusted himself. "Should I place a more specific bet too?"

You thought for a moment, but you were in Vegas so... fuck it. "Yeah. Give me your chip"

The man happily placed the roulette chip into your hand, you stood up in one big sweep and started walking away from the bar. "Woah, don't leave your drink!"

Pleasantly surprised that he had your best interest in mind, you mumbled out a statement of gratitude as he handed the glass to you too. Approaching the table, looked at it for a few moments and tried your hardest to contemplate the best number to place a bet on, but once again no rational thoughts occupied the empty spaces of your brain.

So, you threw the chip on your favorite number, lucky 25.

"There ya go!" You used your free hand to pat the man's shoulder. "Good luck, Blondie."

"What happens if I win?" He asked you, smiling as you let your hand linger. Even with your highest heels on, you were nowhere near as tall as him.

"Then it's your lucky day, and you'll get a shit ton of money." You giggled at his question.

"And if I lose?"

"Then you're unlucky and you're about to lose some money." You snorted.

"That's not going to happen, you're my good luck charm." He declared.

"I don't think anything about my night tonight is radiating lucky energy, so I doubt that."

"What? No way! I feel like I've been the luckiest guy in the whole world today, so maybe I'm your good luck charm."

"I guess we will let the roulette wheel speak the truth of the universe tonight." You shrugged.

"Should we place our own bets on the bet?" The man asked.

"Like what?" You questioned, hoping this wasn't the moment the sweet stranger turned weird and pervy.

"I think if I lose I should probably call it a night and go back to my room because this is the drunkest I've been in probably 80 years." He stated. However, his words flew over your head figuring his drunken words were exaggerated, and you found yourself to be a little sad that your time with the stranger would be cut short so soon.

"I think if you win, you should stay out for a little while and have another drink with me." You smiled, going way out of your own comfort zone.

If you were sober, or maybe even drunk in a bar anywhere other than Las Vegas, you would've been caught dead before being caught to be so bold. But he was pulling you in faster than you've ever felt, and something about him felt so natural and warm.

"Deal." He agreed.

"Look, they're about to spin the wheel." You pointed at the table.

The dealer spun the wheel, and the ball was moving so fast that you could barely even follow it. Even as it slowed down and started to tease each individual slot, the motion of following the sphere going round and round was quite honestly making you a bit dizzy, so you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation.

"No way." The blonde stated. "No fucking way!"

His arm wrapped around you from behind and his big warm hands very gently shook the tops of your arms. "Look! It's on red! I can't see the number, but it's on red!"

You giggled and tried your best to keep your balance as he shook you around. When you opened your eyes you could see that the drink in your hand was sloshing around and spilling over onto the impeccably maintained carpet beneath your feet. But the loss of some of your drink was a small price to pay when the dealer picked the ball up out of the wheel and announced "25 Red!"

Simultaneously, you and Blondie let out little screeches in surprise and joy when you realized you had actually placed a winning bet. In all your years on this planet, nothing like this had ever happened to you. You never even won $5 on a penny slot, let alone a fat wad of cash that was being placed into the man's hands.

After the cheering celebration and laughter died down, he turned to you. "See! I knew you were lucky!"

"You trusted your intuition, and you won!" You noted with a smile so big and long lasting it was starting to make your cheeks sore. "Good job."

"Here! This is yours." He placed the wad of cash in your hands.

"What? No. You bet your own money, it's yours." Not being able to accept it, especially when you saw it was all $100 bills.

"No it's yours! You placed the winning bet, you knew the magic number so I want you to have it." He explained kindly. "You said nothing about your night was lucky, so consider this your sign from the universe."

"I can't just accept all of this money from a complete stranger." You denied once more. "You're very sweet, I would feel so guilty taking this from you."

"Fine, if you can't accept the money for yourself, how about we go spend it together?" He offered. "I owe you another drink anyways, then after that the Las Vegas strip is our oyster!"

"That's a little better" You agreed with a smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't even get your name."

"O-oh!" The man seemed to be taken back by that statement for a second. A look of momentary confusion furrowed his eyebrows before a happy smile returned to his kind face. "Sorry, I'm Steve!"

You made a small mental note of his initial shock that you asked for his name, but your drunken brain didn't hold onto that for very long.

"Alright Steve, here's the plan." You rocked up on your tippy toes and kept yourself braced with a steady hand on his solid shoulder so he could hear you better in the loud and chaotic environment. "Half my drink just ended up on the floor when you won, so I'm going to order another one. Then after that, I somehow need to end the night at my hotel on the complete opposite end of the strip without getting taken or murdered. So if we can somehow make it from here to there while blowing through that money you just won, then I'd be more than happy to help you spend it."

Steve's eyes went wide in concern at your statement. "Where are you staying?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "My gut is telling me not to tell a strange man where I'm staying."

"Smart girl, but I'm not letting you walk down the strip alone at night. The people here are crazy." He challenged. "No funny business. Pinky promise."

Steve raised his pinky for you with a genuine look of promise and concern on his face. "Do people often trust you to get them to safety?"

His cheeks turned pinker, and he let out an adorable giggle. "Yeah, I think most people find me to be very trustworthy."

"No funny business." You lifted your hand and wrapped your pinky around his with a quick handshake. "I'm staying at New York, New York."

"Oh wow, we have a long way to go with lots of chances to blow through that stack." He smiled. "What are you drinking? I'll order you another one."

"Honestly, I have no idea." You admitted, smile coming back to your face.

"Okay great! That helps me a lot" The blonde laughed.

"Excuse me" You politely flagged down the bartender. The same one from earlier coming back, you showed him your glass. "Can I get another one of these please? And whatever he wants?"

You looked to Steve who looked between you and the bartender. "Just two waters please."

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed.

"What? You're not going to have a drink?" You questioned.

He pulled a copper flask out of the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. "I'll drink more, but this is stronger."

"Oh, nothing here is strong enough for you?" You raised a brow, your smile growing just as lopsided as his.

"Nope. This stuff is special, it comes straight from another realm."

Laughing at his joke, as you handed the bartender cash straight from the wad Steve gave you. "That's funny, because I hope this is strong enough to make me feel like I'm no longer in this realm, so cheers to that!"

You and Steve sat at that bar for a solid two hours as conversation topics flew at the two of you unexpectedly fast. Each one new topic was short lived as an enthusiastic response would happily slip off one of your tongues, so excited that the two of you had so much in common.

Then, Steve decided to start the shopping spree. He offered you a hand to help you off the stool, which quickly turned into a protective arm around you, or ushering you the entirety of your time together. He knew that the men on the Vegas strip were pigs, but he underestimated how bad it really was.

But the cat calls, whistles, and lingering eyes were drowned out by the city sounds and the big flashing marquee lights that littered the sides of every building you passed. It was just as mesmerizing as the night before, skipping down the streets in a drunken haze with your best friends.

Now you were mesmerized by not only sin city, but the mysterious man you were following around as if you'd known him your whole life.

With a sense of childlike wonder the two of you ended up in silly places like the M&M's store, and the Coca-Cola store, but you also ventured into more classy designer establishments where you convinced him to buy a lovely new belt at Louis Vuitton.

It looked good, he looked good. You had to work really hard to contain the drool in your mouth as you watched him take off his old belt to replace it with the new one.

He tried to buy you a new bag, but once again you were being stubborn and were having a hard time accepting such a generous offer.

So, you suggested another drink. Just one more.

More sitting and chatting with Steve, you swallowed down the liquid in your cup while he shot the rest of the liquid in his flask.

That last drink was the worst of your poor decision making that night, or so you thought.

Because the last memory you had was sitting at that bar and really admiring him.

The alcohol had turned his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy pink color that somehow made his blue eyes shine even brighter, and add to the wholesome energy you felt radiating from him.

Sweet, silly, carefree, handsome, safe.

Then, you woke up.

Slowly at first. Your eyes opened and the dull pounding at the back of your skull wasn't nearly at bad as you deserved. The air conditioning did wonders keeping you comfortable, the light peaked through the black out curtains, and your belongings scattered across the room confirmed that you were definitely in the right place.

You looked around more. M&m's bag, Louis Vuitton bag... Converse bag? You didn't remember buying shoes. Wait... how did you get here?

Only then did you wake up FAST. You sat up, and your heart pounded as you realized that Blondie was in your bed. The sudden movement made your head pound even harder, but the good news was that he was fully clothed and was sleeping above the covers.

You were also asleep and fully clothed, but both of you were in different clothes than you had on last night. That's probably what those shopping bags in the corner were...

Carefully rolling out of bed to try and make yourself somewhat presentable and aid along trying to process what happened last night, you walked into the bathroom.

Wash your face, brush your teeth, fix your hair.

By the time you came out, Blondie was sitting up in bed with his legs on the floor, shooting you an apologetic look. He was apprehensive, scared to gauge how sick and unenthusiastic you would be by his presence this morning.

"Good morning." He said quietly, voice deep and raspy from inhaling the dry air and residual cigarette smoke.

"Morning." You tried to be polite, clutching the side of your head. "What happened? How did we- how did any of this-"

"Nothing happened." Steve reassured you. "I would never take advantage-"

"Okay, okay." You nodded slowly, feeling slightly relieved. "Advil. I have Advil."

Waking over to the table in the hotel room, you grabbed the bottle of painkillers and a water. You opened both and popped two little pills in your mouth, washing them down with water.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much either. It's been a really long time since I've gotten drunk. This is really out of the ordinary for me." He explained.

"I guess we're on the same boat then." You agreed with him before a couple pieces of paper catch your eye.

"I guess I should probably go?" Steve stated, but it was more of a question. This was the first time he ever found himself waking up next to a stranger.

"No, you stay right there." You insisted frantically, picking up the piece of paper.

Certificate of marriage.

Your name signed at the bottom next to another signature that read Steven G Rogers.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

You studied the signature, looked at his face, looked at the signature, then his face again.

In the table, there was a picture of the two of you kissing. Him in his suit, you in the dress you wore last night but also a veil.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, so much information to process.

"What?" Steve questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Oh my god!" You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"You didn't tell me..." You puffed out a breath, then an unexpected giggle left your throat. Of course, this would happen to you the one time in your life you didn't behave like a perfect angel. "Captain America?"

"Oh... Guilty?" Steve's shoulders sunk. "I introduced myself, no?"

"As Steve." You exaggerated.

"Yeah, I'm Steve." He agreed.

"Well, at least I was safe." Finding the benefit of the doubt. "Do you remember getting married last night, Steve?"

You passed the paper and the picture to him, and his face contorted into an expression you couldn't quite read. "...wow."

"Wow?" You questioned. "I unknowingly married Captain America last night and all you have for me is wow?"

"Holy shit." Steve looked up at you.

"That's better." You nodded.

"You don't look panicked" Steve noted.

"I'm not panicked because at least you're a superhero." You explained. "That counts for something right? Like people won't think I'm totally inane for marrying a stranger when they find out it's Captain America? And like... a superhero means you have people who come and clean up after you right? Someone can fix this right?"

You watched the gears turn in his head. "... I have to call Tony."

Tony. Who's Tony? Think. Superhero, avengers, Steve, Captain America. Tony... IRON MAN.

"Stark?" Your eyebrows raised. Steve nodded, pulling out his phone. "Now I'm freaking out. I'm really freaking out."

"It's okay, give me a second." Steve said calmly.

You nodded, the remembered you should check your phone too. As he spoke quietly to Tony, you looked around for your phone before finding it on the night stand, flooded with dozens of missed calls and texts from friends wondering where you were. You quickly sent off a text in a group chat saying you'd explain later, and that you were okay.

Eventually Steve ended the call. "He said he'll be here in a minute or two."

"Oh, okay great." You said exaggerating your nonchalance. "No biggie. Iron man coming over to read my marriage certificate to Captain America."

Steve giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation. "My mother would be over the moon to find out I'm married."

"My mom might have me 6 feet in a grave if she ever finds out about this." You sat back down on the bed next to him.

"When do you leave Vegas?" Steve questioned.

"My flight is at nine tonight. What about you?"

"Flying home at six thirty." He informed you. "Where do you live?"

"New York" You said simply. "Queens."

"We both live in New York and we’re staying in a New York themed hotel? What a small world." Steve noted. "Maybe we don't have to fit in a divorce before this evening."

"I mean... you are very handsome so I definitely wouldn't mind staying married to you for a few days until we get this figured out." You grinned.

A small blush stippled his cheeks at your compliment. “You’re so pretty I would’ve never had the courage to talk to you if I wasn’t drunk.”

Just like him, you blushed at his admission, and giggled at his words. “This doesn’t feel like real life.”

“Maybe I should’ve gotten you a ring instead of whatever the hell we bought last night.” Steve thought.

You looked down at your left hand, and sure enough, there was a pretty ring on your finger. You lifted it up to show him. “Looks like you were two steps ahead of yourself”

“Oh, good.” He chuckled. “At least there’s that.”

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You looked at Steve with wide eyes and nervousness building up in your tummy at the thought of being in the same room with one third of the Avengers.

“I’ll get it” He reassured you, standing up to answer the door.

Before you knew it, Tony Stark confidently barreled into the room. Firing some teasing words at Steve, you knew the poor guy would never hear the end of it.

“Oh look, here she is!” Tony announced.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Stark.” You shook his hand.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine Mrs. Rogers.” He smiled.

“Tony” Steve warned with a glare.

“Where’s the paper work?” Tony asked.

You quickly handed him the picture and the signed document that was on the table. Steve stood right next to you as you both watched him read over it, and evaluate the legitimacy.

Tony took out his phone snapped a few pictures, and made a weird face. Nervously, you his your face in Steve’s arm and he instinctively rubbed your back to comfort you.

Then, Tony started laughing. “Rogers you’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware, but what’s so funny?” Steve complained.

“It’s fake.” Tony said.

“What?” Your head popped up.

“Little white chapel, married by Elvis just for the gag type of thing. There’s no marriage license, it’s not a legal marriage.” He explained, handing you the papers back.

Both you and Steve let out a huge sigh of relief. “Maybe I’m not that much of an idiot after all.”

“No, you’re still stupid.” Tony denied. “Out of all the people in the world I would’ve never expected this from you, Cap.”

“This is Thor’s fault.” Steve pointed his finger.

You didn’t understand how the god of thunder had anything to do with this, but you had no mental capacity left to even ask.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. Just be on time for the flight home and stay out of trouble.” Tony told him. “Hope to see you around again soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

And just like that, he was out faster than he came in.

“I know Tony made it seem like everything is okay, but it’s not and I have a giant mess to clean up with the team.” Steve explained to you.

“Yeah, I’d assume so.” You smiled.

“Which means I really should go.” He let you down. “But regardless of this fiasco, and from what I do remember, I had a lot of fun with you last night. Would you want to exchange phone numbers and maybe hang out again when we get home?”

“I would love that, Steve.” You agreed.

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours. Both putting in your phone numbers and names before swapping them back.

At the same time, you both burst out laughing at the contact names.

Unplanned, he put his name as Husband, and you put yours as Wife.

“Ridiculous!” You laughed, walking him to the door.

“Maybe we really were meant to be.” Steve pondered.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But in all seriousness, thank you for getting me home safe last night. I was really lucky to run into the right person at the right time.”

“Of course.” Steve grinned. “Travel safe, and let me know when you get home so we can set something up.”

“You got it.” Rocking up on your tippy toes, you kissed his cheek. “Have fun cleaning up that mess, Husband.”

“Don’t tell your Mom about this, Wife.”

You locked your lips and threw away the key. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧

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vaultdwellerbarbie · 3 months ago

Text

chasing shadows

javi rivera x f!reader (8.5k wc)

summary after the trauma of losing three friends, your boyfriend javi becomes incredibly distant and leaves for the military with as little as a note. when he finds out that kate had helped you get a job with her in new york upon asking her to come back to oklahoma with him, neither of you are sure how to proceed

content warnings smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), angst with a happy ending, trauma/near death experiences, probably more than half of this is tooth-rotting fluff, heavy mentions of freckles i'm so sorry i love them, idiots in love trope

hi all!!! i'm moving tomorrow and may not have time to write full fics until august 4th - if anyone has any hc requests for any or all characters pls send them almost a week without posting fics abt my beautiful twisters characters makes me sad

When you were a witness to three of your closest friends dying, and happened to only escape by the skin of your teeth, you figured that it couldn’t get much worse than that.

Coping with what had happened was difficult, but you had survived. Kate had survived - even though Kate ran to New York City - and your boyfriend, Javi, had survived. So long as you had Javi with you, you reasoned, you were going to be able to recover from what had happened. You had lost them, but you hadn’t lost the person who you loved more than anything.

Kate, before leaving for Manhattan, encouraged you to keep him close. She had watched the beginning of your relationship - really, she had taken part in it. Her and Addy had been the ones that played matchmaker to get the both of you together since they were absolutely sick of watching you pine over each other like needy teenagers. She had lost her partner in the storm, and she was a constant reminder that you were lucky that you still had Javi. She reminded him that he was lucky that he still had you, too, since you had been by her side when the storm hit. You didn’t stay back with him, data collection wasn’t your role in the group.

When you came back, he had to search hospital after hospital to find the two of you. Javi had no idea whether you were alive or not, and that was what killed him the most.

In the hospital, he promised to never leave your side, just as he had promised to Kate that he wasn’t going to take your relationship for granted. He had almost lost you, and he vowed that he was never going to allow himself to lose sight of you again.

For the first few months, you tried to find purpose in your life. While Javi was struggling to even think of a place where he could work, you ended up working at a local news station in the meteorology department. Javi wasn’t bringing any money home, but you didn’t expect him to. He moved in with you for a while, and you had hoped that the two of you were going to be able to recover.

The first time you saw him smiling again was the first sign of hope you had that he was going to be able to get better, to at least get himself out of the house for more than the few hours that you went out with him. That hopefulness ended up being foolish, though.

Javi did end up deciding to to out more, just not with you. Not with… anyone that he knew, and he certainly didn’t get a local job.

In a note that he left on your nightstand, seemingly after sneaking out in the early hours of the morning, he let you know that he had made a decision to join the military. Some part of you wanted to understand that he was coping, but you were coping too. You had done everything in your power to be there for him, to support him, to help him find some sort of peace in his life, and after promising to never let you out of his sight, he decided that he couldn’t find that peace with you in it.

At first, you tried moving in with family. You couldn’t stand the idea of being alone for even a second, and you now had to add heartbroken onto the loss of your friends and your near-death experience. It was the very next day after his unannounced departure that you decided to move in with family, the very first time that you questioned if you had a purpose on the planet at all or if you were just being thrown into a sick joke after a sick joke until you finally got the memo that your time on this Earth was limited.

Living at home lasted for about a week and a half before you reached out to Kate. She was, of course, dismayed that Javi had left without doing anything more than leaving a note. You still had his phone number, you could have reached out to him, but after the first day, you didn’t even consider it. He had chosen to break his promise, and you weren’t sure that you wanted him to respond. Did you want to hear his voice? Did you want to have a text message read and ignored by him? The risk felt like it outweighed the reward. So, while you were technically the one who went no-contact, it was his own choices that led you down that path.

A day after your phone call with Kate, she called you back to let you know that there was an opening within her organization. It was more akin to what you had been doing, working in the meteorology department, but you would be reporting to a partner of the company and delivering the forecast on the news. The job sounded daunting, just speaking in front of that many people seemed scary to you, but it also seemed like a fresh start.

Plus, some petty, juvenile part of your brain wanted Javi to turn the weather on and be forced to see you one way or another. Granted, he probably wasn’t getting Manhattan-local weather wherever he was stations, but it was the thought that counted.

So, with a little fee for breaking your lease early, you moved into a shoebox apartment in Manhattan with a single roommate because you didn’t trust yourself to have a place all to yourself. Not with your deteriorating mental health.

After a while, you fell into the rhythm of things. Romance was something that never came back to you, but you also never looked for it. Sometimes, you considered doing something to bring some sort of romance back into your life. Mainly, you would try to go to a nice bar after work and consider bringing someone home after having yet another night’s sleep haunted by dreams of Javi and painful memories of the tornado. Each time, if someone got a little too close, you got clammy and ran. Maybe it was a refusal to have your heart broken again, or maybe it was because you just couldn’t find anyone who compared to him in your mind.

At one point, years later, you had received a message from Javi. Rather than send an actual apology, he just asked if you could call him. Naturally, rather than confronting your feelings and your past, you pretended that he had the wrong number. Was it the mature decision? Not at all. But, considering the fact that he had run away with little consideration for your feelings to do something that he had never once mentioned as being something that he was interested in, you weren’t convinced that the mature decision was something that he actually deserved.

It wasn’t until he showed up at the office that you forgot how to behave.

Having decided to visit Kate in the morning to bring her coffee, something that you did every morning if she was starting after you, you didn’t expect to end up having her tell you to ‘come along’ to the conference room since she was certain that it wasn’t something you could at least sit outside of. Breakfast together was something sacred to you both, and everyone knew that. She, of course, could never have anticipated that the person that she was meeting with was the person who’s face, smile, freckles, and cold exit haunted your every waking moment whenever you let your mind wander to what could have been.

Now, in your mind, there were two options. Option one, you could choose the flight response and leave the room just as quickly as Javi had turned to face you. Or, option two, you could choose the fight response and get into an argument with him right then and there about why he had done what he had done and how it had hurt you. Instead, you decided upon a secret third option in which you stood there silently, refusing to meet his eyes, playing with the sleeve of your shirt while he spoke with Kate.

If it weren’t for Kate dragging you along with her, you probably would have remained glued to that office floor for the rest of the work day just trying to figure out if what had just happened was real. But what had happened was real, and even though he had changed his hair and come back with a new look, he was still Javi. He still looked at you as though he was still in love with you even though you were certain that he never was, and he was still the person who had made you question if romantic love even existed.

What began as an invitation for just Kate to come to Oklahoma, ended up being an invitation for the both of you to come. Both of you rejected it, but while Kate rushed out of the diner, you remained glued to your seat - this seemed to be a common occurrence.

“Are you going to come?”

“What?” That being the first thing either of you said to each other was certainly not how you would have ever hoped to reunite with him - but had you ever been hoping to reunite with him to begin with. Your heart was heavy just looking at him. Not just because you remembered the most recently feeling associated with Javi, being pain and heartbreak. But because you remembered the love that you had for him, and how much you adored every feature on his face, how it had become habit for you to trace and count the freckles on his skin and to stare at him when he smiled like he hung the moon in the sky. That pain went a lot deeper than feeling betrayed, because it took everything in you to not ask him if you could ever try again.

“Are you going to come to Oklahoma?”

“Oh, uh, you heard Kate… so. I should probably get going, it was nice seeing you.”

“Wait-”

“I’ve gotta go. Late for work.”

Without giving him another glance, you almost sprinted out of the door and back to the office.

The rest of the day was filled with pain for you, pain even with Kate’s company because all you could think about wasn’t how he had hurt you, but how much you missed him. You almost wanted to text him, to tell him that you’d go. If you were being honest, you genuinely were interested in what he was describing. If it was what he said it was, perhaps what you had all wanted to have as an end goal to begin with was possible. But, beyond that, you knew that you were never going to stop missing him; you knew that you would never stop being in love with him.

Still, you held firm in your position to not reach out - how could you even explain to him that he actually did have the right number without sounding juvenile? Maybe you shouldn’t worry too much about that, since he was the one that left you to begin with. But you still worried, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to text him because as far as you were concerned, his efforts to patch things up had been abysmal at best.

The next morning, Kate was incredibly forward with her desire to go back to Oklahoma. That was how you ended up on a plane with her even though you weren’t one hundred percent certain that you were making the right decision. It was one thing to go back to the place where you experienced your worst trauma, another to do the exact same thing you were doing that traumatized you in the first place, and it was only made worse with the added knowledge that you were going to be doing it all alongside the person who had left you more broken than you already were to begin with.

Arriving in a place that was once so familiar to you should have felt like coming home after a long time away. In a sense, it did. Everything was something that you recognized at least in some capacity, and you couldn’t proclaim that you didn’t feel some sort of familiarity when Javi came to pick yourself and Kate up from the airport, but that certainly didn’t aid with your discomfort. Regardless of how comfortable you wanted to portray yourself, you were incredibly, incredibly worried about spending a week with Javi. In general, you just weren’t sure that you could handle it. Especially since he had taken the time to learn how to dress and smell nicely, rather than you just finding him attractive in anything he wore.

Still, you couldn’t deny that he would still be attractive in anything regardless of what it was. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how upset with him you were, you couldn’t deny that you still found him to be the most attractive person you knew - but maybe that was jut because you were in love with him.

The first day was a bit rocky for everyone. Kate hadn’t been able to go through with the chase and you had been so distracted with trying to help her that you weren’t able to do much to stop her. When she rushed you all into the car, you presumed that she knew what she was doing; Kate always knew was she was doing, so you trusted her. When it became clear that she didn’t, that she was just afraid, you could understand why. You had seen a few tornadoes since the last one, lived through them since you didn’t leave immediately, so you were a bit more desensitized to it. But chasing again was a different story, and it invoked a lot of memories that you had hoped would stay buried in your subconscious until you returned home at the very least.

When you were able to return to your motel, you ended up spending part of the night out talking to some of the people tailgating in the parking lot. Javi had invited yourself and Kate, though you were certain that he knew just as well as you did how awkward it was going to be. That was why he didn’t mind so much when you broke off from awkward, stiff conversations to talk to Dani and Lily. They were, technically, the rivals to Storm Par, but he had done enough damage to your relationship and didn’t really feel any desire or need to do anything more to it.

Although you were a bit nervous to look at him, you would have been entirely blind to miss the longing glances. How every time you smiled - according to Lily - his entire face lit up before he started ‘pouting like you kicked him in the nuts’. When the Wranglers started dissipating into their rooms, the groupies that followed them did, too. There were only a few remaining stragglers, two of which being yourself and Javi.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Your voice was quiet, but your words were the same that you would give to a friend or a relative inviting you out for something or another. It should have been nothing more than that, it should have meant nothing more than that, but you knew that it meant something else. Even though you’d barely spent any time with him directly, you’d spent some time with him, a lot more time than you had since he left.

“Anytime, you should-” Javi paused, walking you to the steps of the motel. You let him walk up with you, it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Any man would do the same thing, was what you reasoned to yourself, even if it meant nothing since you were no longer in a relationship. “You should come out more often.”

“To Oklahoma? That would be pretty expensive.” You knew what he was really saying, but some part of you wanted to deflect it as much as you could.

“No- well, if you want to. But, no, I mean while you’re here. These don’t really stop unless something really bad happens. You know that.” You did know that, you used to do this with him all the time. The difference, though, was that even before you were dating him you spent the entire night glued to his side. Whether he was making you laugh, or it was the other way around - or, even, you just sat closely together because you liked being close together.

For a moment, your mind was lost in a memory of a tailgate after a chase, a relatively calm chase at that. It was a bit busier outside than usual, not quite as humid as it could have been so more people were out and enjoying the weather and the company. You, however, got a little cold after a while. Sitting next to Javi, he noticed. He lent you his jacket, he let you fall asleep on him, and he held you until he felt just a little bit unsafe sitting outside since most people were in bed and it was getting incredibly late. That was the night in which you realized that you loved him, but now you were just left wondering if it ever really mattered just how much you loved him - how much you still love him.

“Maybe, depends how tired I am I guess.” You responded, finally reaching the door to your motel room. You expected to just hear him bid you a goodnight, but you felt him lightly place a hand on your shoulder.

Turning to face him, your breath hitched in your throat as you noticed how close he actually was.

“Sorry.” Javi dropped his hand from your shoulder, but he almost seemed like he didn’t want to do so.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was meek, because a part of you craved his physical touch more than anything, just- something. A hug, even, a handshake. Something, after being apart for so long. You wanted him close more than anything, but that felt like it was something entirely out of your reach at this point.

“I just wanted to talk to you- I wanted to tell you that I fucked up.”

“With the scanners?”

“No, I- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about- I shouldn’t have left you like that, I regret it every day and I know nothing I can say to make it up to you but I just want you to know.”

You weren’t sure what to say, what you could say without crying. You wanted him to apologize years ago, but you also weren’t sure if anything he could ever do or say could make it up to you.

“Why didn’t you at least keep in contact? I would’ve been okay with you going anywhere, even the military, if you didn’t cut me out. You know I would have supported you.” Just as you had supported him every day that you were together. He knew that, you knew he knew that. It was why it made no sense to you that he seemed to feel as though you wouldn’t be okay with what he had chosen to do. Realistically, you would have missed him, but you would have understood because you truly just wanted him to be okay.

“I was a coward, that’s why. It had nothing to do with you, I messed up, not you.” Javi seemed to be struggling to find the words he was looking for - he had an expression on his face that was similar to one you had seen Kate pull, one that meant he was trying to find a way around expressing information that made him uncomfortable to even think about again. “I had so much guilt, I should have been there for you and I wasn’t. I’m sorry- you never should have been in the field, not without me, and you needed someone who can protect you, but I missed- I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“That was never your fault, Javi.” You hated that he felt guilty for not doing more to help, for losing people he loved and almost losing you and Kate as well. Even though you were always upset with him for going without saying anything, you hoped that he had been able to find some sort of peace within himself in the process. He never seemed to conquer that guilt, but you hoped that he would. “I miss you more than anything.” You admitted, your eyes locked on his for only a brief moment before you were in his arms again.

You weren’t entirely sure who initiated the hug, but you couldn’t get enough of having him this close again, of the warmth coming off of his body. He was always so beautiful to you, and even though he looked different now, he was still the most beautiful, warm person you had ever had the absolute pleasure of knowing. A small part of your mind hated how much you still loved him despite everything, but another part of your mind was just happy to have him close.

The feeling of his face pressed against you made you want to lean in closer, to hold onto him like it was the absolute last thing you were going to do. But, eventually, you had to pull away, to look at him, to speak more to him.

“I lied about my phone number. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, not looking entirely surprised by that. “I probably deserved that.”

“Do you want to, um, do you want to talk about it more?”

“Please.”

So, for about three hours, you sat with Javi in the motel-room bed, discussing everything that had transpired and where it went wrong. At first, it almost just seemed like a series of apologies. Apologies that morphed into telling each other how your lives had been during the time that you were apart. Story tellings that morphed into you laughing together like nothing had ever happened, which morphed into you letting him hold you while you fell asleep and he practiced being transparent and telling you that he would probably leave while you were asleep since he had a meeting in the morning.

Even though you fell asleep cuddled up to him, you rejected the impulses to kiss him again, to tell him that you were still terribly in love with him and that he should know. You, still planning on going back to New York, couldn’t be the one to do the very same thing that he had done to you and leave him alone

The next day should have been fine, and it was until the storm. The storm that left you hiding with a bunch of other people for shelter - without any of the people who you cared about the most. You knew that Javi had something to handle with his work, and you knew that Kate was with the cowboy that seemed fond of her. So, you decided that you wanted to explore. Since you hadn’t been around in a while, you wanted to re-experience the things that had once been so familiar to you before everything had gone wrong and you had decided to leave.

For a while, it felt nice to wander around. But that didn’t last, and by the time you found Javi, you were thoroughly convinced that there was a chance you were never going to see him again.

“Please, please call me if you get stuck in a storm. I just need to know that you’re okay.” Javi’s voice was shaken, even though there were more things that were burdening him. Namely, Kate. Kate was burdening his mind because of their disagreement, because she had taken the car that let her use earlier in the day and run somewhere with it. But he was also shaken because he remembered what it felt like to almost lose you before, and he couldn’t do it again.

“Javi- I have to go back to New York.”

“What? No, no, you can-”

“The motel’s kinda out of service.”

“Stay with me, please. Just stay with me.”

Staying with Javi was a slippery slope. If you had a vehicle, you could have driven to the family home. As it stood, that was too far away, and renting a car at this hour when a storm had just hit town was out of the question. If you wanted to, you could wait it out in the airport, eventually get an extremely early-morning trip back to Manhattan. Or, you could stay with Javi. The issue with staying with Javi was that you were worried that, if you did, you would never want to leave.

“Please, just one night.” Javi had been petrified of losing you, you knew that. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

“One night.”

It was almost sad how badly you wanted to pull him closer, to kiss him because a small part of you was worried that you were never going to be able to again since you were so ill-prepared for that storm. Instead, you settled on giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek and let him drive you back to where he lived.

For about an hour you tried to sleep alone in his room while he slept on the couch, but when you couldn’t stop tossing and turning you found yourself lying awake. The underlying fear that another surprise would come from mother nature that evening was something that you couldn’t fully shake, even though it was incredibly unlikely. But then there was Javi. As much as you tried to think about something else, to distract yourself, all you could really think about was him. You hated that he was sleeping on the couch in his own home, that this bed smelled so much like him.

Finally deciding that you had enough, you got up from the bed and walked into the main room. He was still awake, texting one of his co-workers from the looks of it. There was a deep frown on his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he read whatever he was being sent. Even though he had denied earlier that he felt wrong about what he was doing while he was talking to Kate, it was clear that some part of him did. Maybe, though, it was her that got through to him and made him question if he was okay with his own actions or not.

“Javi?”

“You’re still awake, do you need anything?” He questioned, turning the phone off and giving you his full attention.

“You shouldn’t sleep out here, it’s not right.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

As you walked closer to the couch, Javi moved into a sitting position so you had room to sit beside him. Theoretically, you could have chosen to sit on the opposite end of the couch. Instead, your body naturally decided to sit closer to him than you needed to.

“I’m not comfortable being alone right now.” It was something that you didn’t really want to admit, even to yourself. Growing up surrounded by storms, chasing them, it was something that you were used to. But you had almost died doing this before, and you had been caught entirely off guard by this one. Showing fear in the face of something that you were used to made you feel weak, and Javi could see the insecurity in your eyes when you told him that. That’s why he didn’t give any more thought to his own worries and agreed to join you in the bed.

It didn’t take more than five minutes for you to swallow your pride and cuddle up to him, and his warm and welcoming arms allowed you to hear just how quickly his heart was beating. You couldn’t deny that you missed the feeling of his warmth, of his touch, of being with him like this. You had never stopped missing him, even though you tried to convince yourself that you were okay and at peace with what had happened. While you had predominantly found peace with your trauma, you could never find it with the idea of not having Javi in your life.

The feeling of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin distracted you from your thoughts, your mind beginning to slow down as you were lulled to sleep.

When you woke up, you almost expected Javi to have already left. Last night was chaotic, and given the nature of his company, you were certain that he was going to have a lot to deal with. But there he still was, fast asleep with his phone still charging on the night stand. Often, you woke up before him when you were still together. It was how you got so good at making breakfast, even though your heart was always warm when he made an effort to get up early to make you breakfast instead.

There was an urge within you to get up and do what you always did when you woke up before him, but you had no idea how long he could stay after he woke up or what he even had in his kitchen. It felt like overstepping your boundaries to go in there and just start cooking without even asking first.

Besides, you were content to just lay there watching him. You always liked having time to observe him, to count the freckles on his face and enjoy the sight of him entirely relaxed. Even though you were both a little bit older, and he had cut his hair and shaved, he was still the man who you once knew. He was a little wiser now, though. A little more responsible than he was when you were with him before.

As nice as it was, you grew worried after about thirty minutes. Assuredly, it was getting late and he needed to get up. Having lost your phone during the storm, you also had business that you were going to take care of during business hours. Mainly, though, you knew that Javi was messaging people about work late into the night, and as much as you wanted to watch him and let him rest, you also didn’t want him to get into any sort of trouble. Glancing toward the nightstand again, you finally found a small digital clock - it was partially concealed by a cup, but with a quick movement you finally took note of the time. It was a little bit after eleven in the morning, and you were certain that Javi should have been up by now.

After a momentary internal debate, you finally decided that you needed to do the responsible thing and wake him up.

“Javi, I think you overslept.” Your voice was quiet, not wanting to disturb him too much as he blinked awake. You knew that he was never the biggest morning person in the world, so being too harsh with him was just going to make him pout.

“What time is it?”

“A little after eleven.”

His eyes widened for a second, glancing at the clock. He grabbed his phone to make sure, and from the amount of scrolling he was doing it was clear that he missed a lot. You moved to get off of him, expecting him to drop the phone and run to get dressed as quickly as possible. Instead, he sent a single (long) message and set the phone back down as he turned back to look at you.

“Aren’t you going to get up?”

“The only storm today is pretty small, Scott can handle things for one day.” Scott seemed to have an easier time handling things than Javi did to begin with, though you were certain it was because he had a lot less of a heart than Javi did. “We weren’t planning on chasing today, so unless the predictions get upgraded…”

“What happened to mister responsibility?”

“I’m doing the responsible thing.”

“By calling out of work?”

“By spending the day with you, I have more responsibilities than just my job.” Even though he wasn’t in a rush to get to work, he did still sit up. You sat up with him, your heart beating a bit faster than it was before. Javi was being somewhat presumptuous, but you had slept in the same bed as him for two nights in a row. If you had no interest in spending time with him, he would know that. But, that wasn’t the case. “Wanna get lunch?”

So, you got lunch with him. You spent probably too much time at the restaurant with him, and for the first time, you didn’t really think about the past. Really, you didn’t need to. You and Javi had both changed, but in a lot of ways, you were still the same. Some tiny, miniscule part of your mind was still upset with him, but you knew you had no reason to be anymore. He had done everything he could do to apologize, and was now choosing to spend time with you instead of running off to do work.

After lunch, he took you to get a new phone. Of course, that took a lot longer than either of you wanted it to take. It wouldn’t be until late afternoon that you were finally able to feel fresh air on your skin again, but, you at the very least came out of that waking nightmare being able to respond to the voicemail that Kate had left you inquiring if you needed a place to stay or if you were going back to New York. When she heard you had stayed with Javi, she was a bit conflicted based upon her tones, but she wanted to figure that you knew what you were doing even if she wholly disagreed with it.

Finally, Javi decided to take you to a park - a park that it didn’t take you very long to recognize was familiar to you. The weather was looking better after the early afternoon, low-damage tornado.

“The week’s half over, isn’t it?” He asked, drawing your attention away from the playground in the distance. You had come here with him and the rest of your friends before, you knew he lived close to it but you weren’t sure if he went here often. Granted, you also did a lot of work here. There weren’t too many wifi coffee shops in the area at the time, so you often just volunteered one of your hotspots and did your course work in the park. Things were typically moved inside once you got your hands on the van.

“According to my calculations, yes.”

“You excited to go back?” Javi did his best to keep his voice level, to not give you too much of an indication of how he was actually feeling about the idea of you going back without actually putting any pressure on you to answer in any particular way. Just because you were okay with spending time with him now didn’t mean you would stay just because of him. The thing was, if he asked you to, you would - you might not quite realize it without it happening, but you would.

“Not particularly excited, no.” You admitted, sitting down with him on a park bench. “It’s been nice not having to be on people’s television every morning.”

“Right, forgot you were doing that. What’s it like being a celebrity?”

“Wouldn’t say local access news makes me a celebrity.” You retorted, especially since you were only on for half of the week unless there was a big storm coming. Most of the time, you were in the office. “I think you’d be a good weatherboy, so long as you don’t get on camera with Cheeto dust on your face.”

“I’ve actually cut back on those!”

“You know, there was a shocking lack of red powder on your blankets I must admit.”

“I was never that gross, was I?”

“I guess not, when you remembered to shower.”

To be clear, he never went a whole week without showering, but three days - four days? He typically just forgot because he was too invested in what he was working on, so you took it upon yourself to remind him that he needed a work-life balance. The mere fact that he had even come out here with you, done things with you today, when he could have been working said a lot about his willingness to actually start having a work-life balance. But, Javi had changed a lot in general. His hair was shorter, he was more responsible, he had a lot more equipment, and he had seemed to be at some level of peace with what happened. Obviously, there’s no forgetting it or ever being the same, but he wasn’t depressed about it anymore.

“So, um, you’re okay with me staying the full week right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well-”

“Just keep in mind that we can’t oversleep tomorrow.”

“I think you’re the one who overslept.” You responded, but you did too. You slept until pretty close to eleven in the morning, that was a lot later than you typically had to get up for work. Being in his arms was calming, it was the best sleep you had gotten in a long time. But you weren’t sure how to admit that, or if you even should. “Javi, I- uh…”

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

“What? No. I kinda… I don’t- maybe I want to stay a little longer.”

“Oh.” There was a twitch of a smile on his face, but he subdued it by clearing his throat. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“It won’t bother you? I don’t know how used to the one-person apartment life you’ve gotten.”

“I promise, it won’t bother me.”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before taking a breath - why not air out more of your conscience? It seemed like as good a place as any to do so.

“Last night, I was really scared about- just about what happened, I guess, since I wasn’t prepared.” You hardly ever talked to him about your trauma from the past, because you didn’t need to. You had no reason to explain it to him because he had it too, even though he had been a bit safer than you had been. “But I was worried I wouldn’t see you again, mainly. I don’t want to not see you again.”

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder forced you to look up at him, your eyes locking on his. He always was so beautiful to you, but the caring look in his eyes really just made you want to look into them forever.

“I can’t handle the idea of not having you in my life again.” His words made your breath hitch, your eyes not parting from his for a moment. You were both silent, unclear where to go from there.

Ultimately, it was you who broke through the invisible fence that separated the two of you. You who gingerly placed your hand on his cheek and leaned in, but it was him who closed the deal with a sense of relief and urgency that knocked the air out of your lungs.

Javi’s hand found the back of your neck, his other hand resting on your hip to urge you closer so the kiss was more comfortable. You kept your hand on his cheek, your thumb moving over those freckles of his that you had missed touching and seeing more than anything. Your other hand rested on his forearm, holding him as closely as possible.

It wasn’t until he deepened the kiss that you pulled back enough to speak, enough to take a breath. Your forehead rested against his, even though you were suddenly aware of your public surroundings.

“You should take me home.”

“I should take you home.”

The ride back to his place was an absolute nightmare. Whether it be your distress from the feeling of his hand against your thigh, or his distress from the way that you wouldn’t stop staring at him and playing with his fingers every time he touched you. At some point, he tried to ban you from looking at his arms because it was ‘stressing him the fuck out’, but you eventually made it in the door.

It’s important to note that you only made it in the door, because you didn’t make it much further before he pushed you against the wall.

Javi had his lips against your neck fairly quickly, his hand sneaking down your body at a tortuous pace. You kept a hand tangled in his hair, your eyes never leaving him.

“Did I tell you that I like your haircut?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, I really like your haircut.”

“I like yours too, but I like everything about you.”

Grabbing his face, you rested your hands on his cheeks, his movements stilling as your thumbs brushed against his soft skin.

“I want the first time we do this again to be in your bed.”

Javi’s eyes softened before he leaned in to press a chate kiss against your mouth before taking your hand to lead you into the bedroom.

He took his time removing the clothing from your body, which was a lot more than you could say for yourself as you frantically tore item after item off of him before both of you were finally left in your underwear. He seemed amused as he kicked off the pants he was wearing, amused at the way you eyed him, at how eagerly your hands ran across his body.

“You really missed me, huh?”

“I should hope you really missed me too.”

“I did, more than you know.

You let Javi push you back against the bed, your eyes locked on his as a slight smile covered your lips.

“Are you gonna show me?”

“Trust me, I’m gonna show you.” He motioned you to the top of the bed, following you and caging you in beneath him. “Sure you’re ready?”

“Don’t get cocky.” You replied, but you couldn’t help the wide smile that covered your face when you saw him smiling for just a moment. His smile had always been infectious to you, it was the thing that gave away to Kate that you were in love with him to begin with considering how you looked at him whenever he smiled. But that smile also always distracted you, which was how you just didn’t notice the feeling of his hand trailing down your body until he had a finger beneath the fabric of your panties, swirling around your seemingly already wet clit. “Fuck-”

“Just making sure you’re ready.”

Javi was always generous in bed, the only times he wasn’t was when you were both pressed for time but in desperate need of being together so you didn’t spend an entire day hot and bothered for no good reason. You had merely forgotten just how eager he was to please, though, he was often eager to be pleased as well which you were grateful for since you absolutely loved to hear him let loose.

As much as you wanted to kiss him, it was a bit too intimate for a brief moment as his fingers dripped inside of you, the heel of his hand brushing up against your clit with each movement. To lock eyes with him, to be this vulnerable in front of him for the first time in five years, was a lot. It was overwhelming, but the intimacy was needed. You were certain that you could see the pent up emotions, the love, behind his eyes - and he was certain that he could see it behind yours, too.

After a moment, you stopped staring at him so you could feel his mouth against yours. While He enjoyed the sounds coming from your mouth, he enjoyed feeling them against his lips even more. Everything felt both new and familiar, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you never wanted to be apart from him again.

Maybe it was just because you were so pent up, or maybe it was because he had put his best effort into the way in which his fingers moved inside of you, but you could feel yourself getting lost in the feeling a bit too much. When your kisses became weaker, Javi’s lips trailed down your jaw, settling on your upper neck where his teeth lightly grazed your skin.

His fingers curled inside of you, your hips arching off of the bed for a moment before he used his free hand to keep you from gyrating too much. You tried to keep your eyes locked on him. On his face, his hair, everything about him. But it was just too overwhelming.

The smell of him surrounding you, the feeling of his mouth against you, of his fingers inside of you - it was all so much at once, and if it weren’t Javi, you would have been embarrassed about how quickly you came on his fingers.

Javi gave you a moment to calm down before bringing his face to be level with yours again, his hand slowly pulling out from your panties before playing with the hem of the fabric.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything.”

With that confirmation, Javi quickly pulled the last remaining article of clothing from your body while you removed the boxers that separated you from him. there was a feeling of relief, of familiarity, that came along with being able to be this close to Javi again. You missed him more than anything when you were apart from him, so feeling him push inside of you once again made you question if you were even okay with being apart from him when you both needed to do something as simple as work.

Once he had pushed all the way inside of you, he gave you a moment to adjust. Bringing a hand to grab onto his hand, he turned it so you could intertwine your fingers with his.

“Before we do this, I need to tell you that I love you.”

His breath hitched for a moment, his eyes widening before a smile covered his lips. “I love you too, so, so much.”

You were almost taken aback by how swiftly he leaned down to kiss you, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back. It was incredibly eager, but it made you laugh, too. You felt like whatever part of you that had been feeling incomplete was complete again, complete because you were with Javi again, because he had made an effort to make things better, and because after all that time apart you were still just as in love with each other as you had been before anything had ever gone wrong.

Once he started moving inside of you, you knew that you were a goner. Your fingers squeezed his hand, your leg wrapping around his hips to pull him closer. The sounds inside of the room were obscene, the mumbled words of affection and the moans coming tumbling against each other’s lips - you were just glad that he didn’t have roommates.

Javi didn’t really hold back, but you didn’t expect him to. You had both been apart, you needed this just as much as he did. You needed to feel his hips grinding against yours, to feel him moving in and out of you in a pace that was both needy and caring. No matter what, it was always clear to you how much he cared about making you feel good. Never did he do anything too rough, and if he got a little rough he would always catch himself and make sure that you were okay. But this was something wholly different, because it was almost like it was muscle memory for him, like he knew exactly what to do to make sure that you both felt as good as possible.

Your body arched into his naturally, and Javi seemed to get the memo that you simply wanted him as close as possible as he let his hips push you down a bit. The feeling of his warm skin against yours had your fingers tightening around his hand, you weren’t sure how you could get any closer than this but you were sure that you would do it if there was something more that you could do.

Bringing a hand down your body, you felt Javi press his fingers against your clit. You could feel his smile as you accidentally bit down on his lip, a moan leaving his mouth as he felt you soothing the bite with your tongue.

His hips became more erratic, your moans melding together against each others lips as you became too distracted to be wholly invested in a kiss. It was incredibly intimate having him this close again, knowing that he wants to be this close to you after everything that has happened between the two of you.

As you squeeze him throughout your own orgasm, it takes everything for him to not finish right then and there. But he holds off until you’ve ridden out your orgasm, pulling out to finish on your inner thigh

It takes a few moments of sloppy kisses before you both get up, taking a shower together before ultimately crawling into bed. You’re surrounded as him as you do. By his smell, by his skin as he holds you tightly against his body, by the feeling of his clothing being on your body as you cuddle into him in the bed.

“I want you to stay, I don’t ever want you to go back to Manhattan.”

Glancing at him, your head lifting from his chest, you see the nervous expression on his lips upon confessing that to you and merely smile reassuringly. “I want to stay, Javi. I never want to leave you again.”

He lets out a breath, leaning in for a soft kiss. Your fingers brush through his wet hair, before resting on his cheek. Pulling away, you can’t help the giddy smile that covers your lips as you look at him. You may have gone through a lot of issues together, and apart, but it was clear that you both understood that you were better together.

Some part of you was always sure that he was going to end up in front of you again, that your life was never meant to be one without Javi, and you just couldn’t help but be beyond happy and relieved to know that part of you was right. Javi, you were sure, was always meant to come back to you - and you were always meant to be with him. Now all you really needed to worry about was making up for lost time and settling into your new (or… old… familiar) way of life.

#twisters x reader #twisters fanfiction #javi rivera x reader #javi x reader #anthony ramos x reader

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 31- Ghost face!Miguel x Shy!Reader

*Requested by the many fans of tumblr. Happy Halloween!*

Everyone had warned you about moving to Nueva York. The amount of dangerous people in that city were overwhelming. You were going to be eaten alive as your friends and family warned. You thought of yourself better and wanted to prove to them that you could survive. The shy and quiet you, who barely had to courage to say no. It was something you always struggled with, but you hoped that this new job would help you with it.

You were hired at Alchemax as a lab assistant. You tried to fit in, but everyone was so self centered that you ended up being a loner. Everyone except one person. Miguel O'Hara. He had extended the hand of friendship to you, wanting to make you feel more comfortable around the place. You instantly fell for him. He was so kind to you and understanding. You had just wished that everyone was like him. You had wished you had the courage to ask him out.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Miguel asked as he tried to grab your attention. You flinched out of your daydream,

"Y-Yeah, sorry. I've been...tired lately."

"I've noticed that you've been taking on other people's work. You need to learn to say no," Miguel told you before typing away on his computer. You could only nod,

"I...know...I've also had trouble sleeping...N-News of that...Ghostface going around killing people has me spooked." Miguel glanced you way, handing you a bottle of water, "T-Thanks."

"You'll be okay, tomorrow's Halloween, that's the last day he goes out. Just stay home, okay?" You let out a small whimper, hesitating. "You are staying home, right?" Miguel asked, stopping his work. Tears almost fell from your eyes,

"I-I got...I was told to join some of the others...a-at a small...work...party," Miguel saw you shaking, "I-I...I couldn't say no..."

"Sí, ¿qué voy a hacer contigo? Mi pobre muñeca inocente. (Aye, what am I to do with you? My poor innocent doll.)" Miguel whispered, knowing that you knew nothing of Spanish. He took you hand, calming you down, "Don't worry, you'll be okay."

You looked into Miguel's eyes, smiling softly as you calmed down. After wiping your tears away, you thanked him quietly before hurrying off to go back to work. Miguel watched you scurry off. He growled lowly as he walked to his trash. That invitation was in there somewhere. Your coworkers didn't care about you to invite you to some Halloween party. They had other plans, and now Miguel did too. Finding the paper, Miguel's eyes shined brighter than normal.

"Tendré que matar a todos y hacerme el héroe, sólo para ti, mi preciosa querida. (I'll just have to kill everyone and play the hero, just for you my precious darling)"

-------------

You stood in the corner of the small party, watching all of your coworkers enjoying themselves. You glanced down at your costume, wondering if it was too weird. Everyone else was dressed up in slutty and revealing outfits and here you were, with the costume you thought looked the cutest. You sighed sadly, wondering why you were even here. No one was talking to you. You were just there. Another sigh escaped your lips as you made your way to the upstairs bathroom.

As you washed up, you heard faint screaming. You gasped and shut the light off, your heart beating faster. Loud thumps echoed from the staircase, causing you to whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the loud thumping stopped right in front of the bathroom door. You hurried into the tub, holding yourself as you shook. This was not how you wanted to die. You cried as the door slammed open,

"BOO!"

"KYAAA!" You screamed, covering your ears. You heard loud laughter and raised your head to your coworkers,

"Ah man! Did you get that on video!?" One of them yelled.

You stormed out of the bathroom, sobbing past everyone as they laughed at you. You made your way to the backyard since the front entrance was blocked off. You sat on the steps, crying your eyes out. They only invited you to make fun of you since you were so scared of Ghostface. You were just a quiet coworker, what did you do to deserve this? Upon hearing another scream, you whimpered in response. Were they trying to scare you again?

"I'll just stay here for a bit. They have to unblock the door soon," You whispered.

----------

Miguel had watched the whole thing. His anger had reached a new boiling point. Fixing his mask, Miguel's grip on his knife tighten as he made his way inside. He was the one who blocked the door. Standing in the corner, Miguel watched you ran outside crying. Perfect. He was going to start with the stragglers downstairs. It was a big house and not too many people. The job needed to get new employees anyway. These guys were just dead weight.

Miguel approached each person a little louder than he wanted. He was so fueled with anger that he couldn't focus. He just wanted everyone to pay for what they did. After his first kill, Miguel inhaled deeply. The smell of metallic blood filling his nostrils. He was not going to get now. He had taken out his anger during this month. It was the only time he could. Slowly making his way over to his next victim, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he thought of you.

You were going to be his perfect little wife. Miguel was going to make sure you stay in the dark about his secret. He just wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to keep you protected and loved. When you first arrived at Alchemax, Miguel thought he saw an angel. A shy little angel who entered his life just for him. Miguel had hunted every single asshole who dared tried to flirt with you, or even scared you. Miguel was going to be your dark protector.

"AHHHHHH!"

There it was. The first scream of the night and not from a scare, but because of the dead bodies that laid under Miguel. Smiling through the mask, Miguel watched the girl run to warn the others. Ah yes, that was the start. Miguel inhaled deeply, getting enjoyment from true horror. He was going to enjoy his last few kills of the night. It was going to be another year until Miguel could kill again.

----------

After calming down, you decided to leave. You rubbed your eyes once more before entering the house. It was quiet aside from the sound of thumping from upstairs. They were probably enjoying themselves. Honestly, you were mad at your cruel coworkers. You stopped at the front door, seeing that it was still blocked. Why were they doing this to you? The couch was far too heavy for you to move on your own. Looking for another way out, you gasped as you stepped in something.

"My shoe," You whimpered, looking at the red puddle.

Following the puddle, you gasped sharply as you saw one of you coworkers dead. Your heart started to race again as screams came from upstairs. You hurried to the kitchen, wondering if there was a door there and froze as another dead body laid before you. This was bad. Ghostface was here and he was killing everyone. Tears began to roll down your cheeks again as you hurried to find somewhere to escape. Maybe there was a gate in the backyard?

"Please! Don't kill me!" One of your coworkers screamed as another ran down the stairs,

"(Y/N)?! You're still here?!" He yelled and gasped as Ghostface started to walk down the stairs, "Fuck it, I ain't dying here!"

You yelped as your coworker grabbed you harshly and threw you in front of the staircase. You eyes widen as you nearly froze in fear as Ghostface stood directly before you. You couldn't move. His knife was stained with blood. You shook and closed your eyes, crying as you waited for the worst.

"No! Stay back!"

You shuddered a gasp as you heard Ghostface leave to your coworker first. Quickly, you found a closet and hid in there until it was safe. You were frighten and scared. Covering your ears, you tried to stay quiet as you waited. Waited for Ghostface to leave.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" That voice. You knew it all too well.

"M-Miguel! R-Run!" You cried out.

----------

Miguel whispered some cusses towards your coworkers as he stabbed him. Now that everyone was dead, it was time for you. He knew that you ran to the living room, but where were you hiding? He stopped to clean his knife in the kitchen sink, washing all the blood off. Once that was done, he attached the knife to his thigh strap under his pants. He then took his mask off, putting it inside one of his cloak pockets that was big enough.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" He called out, wanting to bring you out of hiding.

"M-Miguel! R-Run!" Those cries weren't meant for you.

"It's okay, I'm here now. I saw Ghostface head upstairs, quickly close your eyes and come out. I'll get you out of here."

You were such a good girl for him. You crawled out of the closet with your eyes closed, your breathing still heavy. Miguel just smiled towards your shaken form, knowing that you were going to be in his arms in a second. With ease, he picked you up, holding you close. He could feel your heart beat. You were sobbing and holding onto him for dear life. You had no reason to cry now. Miguel was going to take care of you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," Miguel whispered as he stroked your head. You just cried into his shoulder,

"M-Miguel, I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You have nothing to apologize for. I'll take good care of you,"

"T-They're all dead. I-I thought...I was next...Miguel...I love you. I love you. I'm sorry, I'm a scaredy cat and shy and nervous...I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner," You kept babbling, crying your heart out since you thought you were going to die.

"Dios mío, no me esperaba esto. Voy a follarte bien esta noche para que te olvides de todo esto. (My god, I wasn't expecting this. I'm going to fuck you go good tonight that you're going to forget all about this.)" He groaned lowly.

"M-Miguel?"

"It's okay, (Y/n), I love you too. I'll take good care of you."

-----------

You sniffled as you stepped out of Miguel's shower, rubbing your arms as you wore some of his spare clothes. Miguel was kind enough to take you to his home, wanting to comfort you for the night. You were nervous as you stepped into his living room. It was quiet. Miguel was taking a shower in his other bathroom. Who would have thought that Miguel was rich? You explored his place, still surprised by the turn of events.

You ended up in the kitchen, noticing a knife in the sink. It looked so much like the knife Ghostface had. Shaking the thought out of your head, you made your way back to the living room. You wanted to forget about what happened tonight. You tried to at least. You knew you were going to have trouble sleeping again. Tomorrow was going to be harsher because everyone was going to be asking about the others. Asking why you were the only one left alive.

"W-What if they think I killed them?" You stuttered at the thought. Miguel approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist,

"Then they would be fools," He kissed the back of your neck.

You shuddered at the affection Miguel gave you. Turning around, you pulled him into a tight hug. Miguel chuckled as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom. Your cheeks burned up as he placed you on his bed. Miguel stroked your cheek, calming you down again. His smile instantly making you fold for him.

"Do you trust me?" Miguel asked you as he slowly climbed over you. You just nodded, "Good, there's something you need to know,"

You whimpered as Miguel kissed your neck. His hands stroked your sides under the shirt you wore. He let out a low groan since you looked so good in his clothes. You let out a breathless moan as he cupped you breasts. Miguel was going to wait until you were completely in his grasp before telling you. After all, you couldn't say no. You were going to be his good girl forever.

"M-Miguel?" You whined softly as he took your shirt off, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples.

"You're not going back to work," Miguel whispered as he started to grind his bulge against your cunt, "You're going to stay here. Make it look like you died with the others."

"W-What?!" You asked, but flung your head back as Miguel sucked on your breasts.

You moaned softly as Miguel spread you legs, allowing him to rut into you rougher. You felt yourself getting wetter. The boxers he let you wear were too thin and easy for him to grind against. You tried to ask him what he meant, but you were being overwhelmed with pleasure. Miguel's hands were now resting against the boxers, rubbing your clit against the fabric. You body leaned into his touch, desperate for more. His tongue swirled around your nipple, making his way back up to your neck.

"You're going to stay here, baby." He whispered again, his fingers dipping under the boxers and circling your clit, "My beautiful angel. I can't let anyone have you. I can't let anyone harm you. You were always mine."

"Mhm~ M-Miguel~"

"(Y/N), don't be afraid of me. I will never harm you." Miguel watched as you bit you lower lip, moving your hips with his hand, "Así es. Déjame convertirte en la esposa perfecta. Déjame manchar tu hermosa inocencia. (That's right. Let me fuck you into the perfect wife. Let me taint your beautiful innocence." He groaned lowly.

You whimpered a moan as you felt a knot tighten inside you. Miguel moved his fingers faster against your clit, causing that knot to tighten. You tried to rub your legs together, but Miguel kept them spread. He sucked against your neck, groaning as you cam from just him playing with your clit. His fingers dipped lower, two digits entering your tight, soaked cunt. You moaned again, your cunt squeezing his fingers as he pumped inside you.

"Ah, my sweet innocent little angel. Watching you break because of me is so delicious." Miguel groaned as you squirmed and moved your hips to his touch, "You're going to stay here. I'll make sure no one will ever hurt you again, understood?"

"Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried out as his fingers feverishly fucked your tight gummy walls.

You whined as Miguel raised your legs over his shoulders. Your pussy clenched his fingers as he started to curl against your sweet spot. You flung your head back as he started to wiggle his fingers inside you. His thumb rubbed against your clit again, bringing you over to the edge. Miguel wasn't making any sense, but his words were making you wetter. Honestly, with how tonight went, you wouldn't mind being stuck in Miguel's home forever. He was your protector.

"M-MIG-" You screamed out as you reached another orgasm. Miguel pulled his fingers out, licking them,

"You even taste sweet," He hummed, holding his erection towards your twitching folds, "You have no idea the amount of men I had to get rid of to make sure you stayed innocent, just for me. Seré tu primero en todo... y tu último. (I will be your first for everything...and your last.)" He groaned.

You whimpered as you felt Miguel's dick stretch you out painfully. His cock was so thick and long. Your pussy was convulsing around him, sucking him in while drool rolled down your lips. He was making you feel so full. You wanted to question him on what he meant by getting rid of people, but you started to get drunk off his cock. Another whimper escaped your lips as Miguel groaned, fitting his whole length inside you. You swore that he was pressing against your cervix, but you weren't sure. This was a first for you.

"Un ajuste perfecto. Fuiste hecho para mí, cariño. Voy a grabar la forma de mi polla en tu memoria. (A perfect fit. You were made for me, darling. I'm going to fuck the shape of my dick into your memory.)" He groaned, slowly pulling out of you, "Killing all those people made this worth it."

"H-Huh?"

You moaned loudly as Miguel thrusted his dick back inside you, hitting your cervix with each thrust. You cried out as Miguel started to bully your cunt, causing you to turn into putty under him. You could barely feel your legs as the slapping sounds between you grew louder. His dick forming a perfect space inside your pussy. You trembled as you started to reach another orgasm, unable to take the pleasure that he was filling you with.

"Look at you, so fucked out on my cock. How does it feel to get fucked by Ghostface, baby? Does my dick feel that good?" Miguel moaned as you tighten around him, "Yes, it does, doesn't it. Why else would you be squeezing me this tight?"

"H-Hah~ Ah~ Y-You're....ah~ mhpm...G-Ghost...f-face?" You whimpered lowly. Miguel fasten his pace, enjoying the white ring that formed around his dick,

"Yes. I'm the scary Ghostface that killed those asshole coworkers of ours," He chuckled, stopping to fill you with his seed, "I told you that you'd be okay. I will never, ever hurt you. Only love you."

You wanted to be scared. You truly did, but both your brain and your heart were only thinking about Miguel's dick pounding you still. His hot semen filling your womb as he kept fucking you dumb. You body twitched from overstimulation as Miguel started to rub your clit again. He leaned down to kiss you, biting you lower lip as you moaned for him. His grip tighten against your hips, rutting into you furiously. He wanted to make sure you knew that you were his.

"Awe? Tired already? I think I need to show you how many people I've killed for you. Here's the second victim." Miguel groaned as he cummed inside you again.

"Mhm~" You muffled lowly, growing exhausted. Miguel chuckled as he pulled you to his lap,

"Tienes razón cariño. Vas a ser la esposa de Ghostface. Siempre puedo mostrarte mi amor en cualquier momento. (You're right darling. You're going to be Ghostface's wife. I can always show you my love anytime.)

----------

When you woke up, Miguel was by your side with water, vitamins and breakfast. He had bathed you and put on a fresh pair of clothes. You recalled his confession from last night and grew slightly nervous. Miguel, the man you longed for, was the murderous Ghostface. He killed your coworkers and faked your death. You now belonged to Miguel. You wanted to be scared, but Miguel had proved to you that he was never going to hurt you.

Maybe it was your blind faith or actually being fucked dumb, but you willingly agreed to stay with Miguel. You stayed in his place as his house wife, greeting him with love everyday. Miguel rewarded your love with his brutal sex, reminding you that you belonged to him. By next Halloween, Miguel returned to his Ghostface persona, needing to release some steam. You became his accomplish, making sure that he returned home safe and sound.

"How was my good girl tonight?" Miguel hummed as he slapped his dick into your soaked pussy. You whined into the bedsheets,

"D-Distracted t-the...ah~ police...s-sending em...mhm~ opposite side of...of....ah~ t-town~!" You cried out. Miguel groaned happily, harshly shoving his dick deeper into you to fill,

"That's my perfect angel. Well done."

"T-Thank you!" You moaned against him, shaking from the pleasure. Miguel hummed happily as he kept thrusting inside you,

"I think you deserve a reward. Why don't we try making a little Ghostface jr?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Your vision blurred as you moved in rhythm to Miguel's thrusts. Your mind started to fill with lust as you became tainted by Miguel. You were just as bad as him now, but you didn't care anymore. As long as Miguel was there to love you and protect you, you were okay. You moaned loudly as you cam against his dick, burying your head into the pillow again. You were happy with you life now. You were going to protect and live with Miguel forever.

Forever as Ghostface's wife.

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

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silovsmenot · 6 months ago

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Bloody Nose | Matt Rempe

SUMMARY: During med school, your dad gets you a volunteer role with the New York Rangers to get some hands-on experience. On your first day, Matt Rempe clashes with Mathieu Olivier. WARNINGS: Mentions of blood & bruises. PAIRING: Matt Rempe x f! reader. NOTES: I don't think it's possible to not be feral for this guy. I'm sure this idea will have been done a hundred times before, but I couldn't help it. WORD COUNT: 1,600 FIND PART TWO HERE

It was not a role you were expecting as you were progressing through med school, in fact you never would’ve considered it if your dad didn’t know the general manager of the New York Rangers.

You needed some hands-on experience as part of your course, under supervision but in a real setting — while most of your friends went at found volunteer roles within doctors’ offices and hospitals where possible, you joined the medical team of the Rangers.

Of course, it was university policy that they had to approve the role, and they were quick to. You were not the first to find a role with a sports team, and you wouldn’t be the last. One student on the year above you spent a season with the Mets, which presented a whole different collection of injuries.

You didn't really know much about hockey, it had only been a passing interest as a child with your dad taking you to the odd game here and there ― you were certainly not a hockey fan but you were going to approach this with interest. And with how some of your friends publicly voiced their jealousy, you were becoming somewhat excited about the opportunity.

to expect. General hockey injuries ranged from the simple knocks, cuts and bumps to concussions, and everything in between. There was a lot that could happen, and you hadn't even considered the possibility of brawls yet.

In the early morning, you dressed into the simple uniform that you’d been given; a navy sports kit with the team logo and ‘team medic’ written simply across the back. You certainly looked the part. And with your hair tied back, you left your apartment for the airport. The medical staff travelled late to Columbus, and you’d be among them.

You’d already been introduced to the team medic, whose hand rose in a short wave at the first sight of you weaving through the small crowd. Simply relieved to see a familiar face within the flood of Rangers staff. In just under two hours, you were in Columbus, Ohio with a bubbling excitement.

For the whole ride to the rink, the senior medic talked you through your role. You’d take all of the ‘small’ injuries while he would be there for the more major, and any concussion assessments.

“Just be aware, Rempe likes a good fight — always be prepared to plug a bloody nose.” He sighed, giving your shoulder a friendly tap as he finally broke into a laugh. Excitement turned to a bubbling concern as you slowly nodded.

Players began to file into the arena, none having any idea who you were, but they did not question it. Staff came and went, and your navy Rangers tracksuit was enough to tell them that you were on the team.

There was one who’s eyes lingered a little longer than the others, and you felt your cheeks burning beneath his gaze. He must have been about a foot taller than you, shaggy brown hair and a mischievous grin that put a name to a face without even needing an introduction — this was Rempe.

You took your place at the end of the tunnel with the head medic, from there you’d watch the game, and be ready for any injuries that would come your way. Your heart was pounding as the puck dropped, this was for real and you silently pleaded that this would be a nice, calm game

But less than three minutes in, your eyes snapped up at the sound of the whistle — the gloves and sticks flying in different directions as two players grappled. You made no attempt to hide the rolling of your eyes as you grabbed the nearest towel, watching closely with each punch exchanged for any signs of blood. No blood meant they’d go to the box, you’d been told that much.

As the final punch was thrown, watching as the giant body of the Ranger was wrangled to the ice, none could miss the crimson that poured from his nose.

The head medic giving you the nod as you moved toward the gate ― a bloody nose was something that you could handle with your eyes closed, and he knew that. This was your one to handle.

You watched as the massive body of Rempe was skated to the bench by a referee, his eyes caught upon you once more as his lips curved into a pained grin. The crowd were going wild, stood on their feet as they cheered and screamed. It was your arm that he took as he stepped off the ice, the various hands of Rangers teammates tapping the 21-year-old on the back as you led him down the tunnel.

“Feeling okay?” You shouted over the cheers of the crowd as soon as you'd cleared the bench. You had to cock your head just to meet his eyes, his massive 6’8 body at your side. He almost flinched at the sound of your voice, the first words you’d spoken to him.

He didn't reply, he only nodded as he grinned, a bloody thumb raised for you to see. He was proud of himself and that was written clearly across his bloody face.

“Do me a favour,” You sighed, your hand pushing open the door to the medical room with the familiar pharmaceutical smell. “Warn me next time.”

That was enough to bring a laugh from his bloody lips, a bearish hand rising to wipe the crimson with a large smudge across his pale cheek. The red liquid was already everywhere, he’d need a blood jersey and you’d need a few minutes to clean this mess up.

“No promises, boss.” He teased in a whisper, dropping upon the medical bed with a thud. “What’s your name?”

You’d turned your back to him before he asked, collecting a cup of water and a handful of towels. It was well-timed as you felt that flushing of your cheeks almost instantly at his question.

“y/n, why?”

He sat completely still as you returned with hands full of towels are cotton wool, Matt had done this enough times to know what you’d ask him to do. His hand was already out and ready for the water that you’d give to him to swill out his bloody mouth.

“I’ve just not seen you with the team before … I’m Matt.”

You nodded in a silent ‘i know’, which made him laugh again. The pained grin seemingly stuck upon his lips as he watched you closely, every movement as if it were the first time he was seeing it — like he was seriously interested in the towels and the rolled wool. It was enough to bring that fluttering to your stomach.

He leaned forward onto his legs, bloody hands firmly planted upon his knees as he closed a gap between you. His voice no more than a whisper.

“Did you like my fight?”

You could feel his hot breath upon your skin as you stood, unmoving with a heavy inhale parting your lips. You were ready for blood and for broken bones, but you were not ready for this. Whatever this was.

“Do the girls normally like it?” You finally replied as you steadied yourself, brow rising in your own tease. Two could play that game, and you intended to play if he did.

Though he would not say it, your response drove him wild — that grin deepened as he leaned a little closer, his head cocking to keep your gaze tied with his own.

“They do.”

A slow nod, your hand placing the cup of water on the table beside him, your brow rose.

“How about you ask me when you win next time?”

It was far from the answer that he was expecting, but fuck — he liked the answer. He was resisting every urge to touch you, he sorely wanted to. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight, but you were very tempting to him.

You both, almost at the same time, broke into a shared laughter. His massive frame straightening up as he’d collect the cup of water, swilling the clear liquid before it would dribbling from his lips into the cup with a red tint.

“I don’t think you need me to do this for you?” You spoke with towels held toward him. He shook his head, taking them from you with a nod of thanks and began to wipe at the crusting crimson.

Things were quiet for a few moments, white towels turned red as his face became cleaner with each moment. The team’s kit manager would poke his head in with a clean jersey, which you quickly handed across.

You’d help him remove the blood-splattered jersey, catching a glimpse of his bare torso beneath the pads. Eyes were stuck upon the pale skin, which of course, he noticed. He liked that you were looking. Even as you helped him pull on the fresh, white jersey, his lips remained curved in the cheeky grin.

“You should come out for a drink with us after this.” Matt muttered with brows rising and falling, giving you a little nudge as he rose for the table and, once more, towered above you.

He crossed the room first, opening the door and holding it wide for you to exit first. As you walked through, you looked up with lips curved deep. You never expected to be glad of a fight, but you’d almost enjoyed wiping away all that blood.

“Maybe I will.”

#matt rempe #matt rempe x reader #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #feral for this guy #silovsmenot writes

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luminoustarlight · 1 year ago

Text

Saccharine | Modern!Anakin Skywalker

What do you get when you mix a college Halloween party with beer and a pretty girl wearing a pirate costume?

A jealous Anakin Skywalker.

rating: explicit | pairing: anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.3k | read on ao3 warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, drinking, jealousy/possessiveness, SMUT [fingering, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v, come eating/swallowing, mild degradation, like a really brief moment of lactation kink(???)]

the lovely @queenie-official asked for someone to write anakin and reader at a halloween party and anakin gets jealous. i have no idea where 5.3k words came from but y'all i love this one!

and i dedicate this to @hanasnx because we were talking about how we would suck anakin's dick every day if we could.

Here’s the thing about Halloween parties— or rather, Halloween and parties.

Anakin hates both of them. Halloween is a stupid holiday where girls wear short skirts, low-cut tank tops, and a pair of generic animal ears and call it a “costume”. Then they complain about being cold and ask for your jacket. It’s fucking October in New York, what do they expect?

As for parties, Anakin has never liked them. He’s not a particularly social person. Hell, he’s not even that pleasant of a person but he somehow wound up with you as his best friend in college. He’s the grumpy to your sunshine. He’s a pessimist, you’re an optimist. He drinks black coffee, you like it full of syrupy caramel. He hates everything you like and you don’t understand any of the things he finds fascinating.

The logistics of your friendship is complicated. You don’t know why Anakin is the easiest person for you to talk to even though you have just about nothing in common. You don’t know why Anakin chooses to spend all of his time with you, even though there are other girls in his engineering classes who would kill to talk to him about their shared major.

You don’t know why he holds your hand when you walk through Central Park while telling you about his hookups. (You wish he wouldn’t talk about other girls with you but you just like the sound of his voice so you do your best at drowning out the meaning of the words).

If only he knew how miserable it makes you feel to hear about his dating life. If only you knew how difficult it is for you to do the same because every single guy is lack-luster compared to Anakin.

“I hate parties,” Anakin states. He’s tossing a baseball— the foul ball he caught for you at a Yankees game— in the air to keep his hands busy.

“Yeah, but you love me,” you reply while taking a cream flowy blouse out of your closet.

“Not if you make me go to this stupid Halloween party with you.”

You roll your eyes and rest your shirt hanger on one of the knobs on your dresser. You catch the baseball midair and flop beside Anakin on your bed. He props up on an elbow and you just want to soothe the crease between his eyebrows. “Pleaaaase, Ani?”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon! When’s the last time you did something for me?”

“Look around, sweetheart,” Anakin gestures his arm out lazily. “I helped you move into this place.”

You huff. “Okay, fine. But you offered. And if I recall correctly, I supplied you with all of the coffee and bagels your heart desired.”

“There’s only one thing my heart desires.” A lopsided grin forms on Anakin’s lips as his fingers brush against your elbow. It’s a barely there type of touch, one you might not even notice if it weren’t for the sparks you feel every time you and Anakin make contact.

You fail to mask the sharp intake of air that passes through your teeth. “Wh-what’s that?”

Anakin runs his tongue over his bottom lip and you think maybe, maybe he just might say what you want him to say. Your heart expands with hope as you await his answer with a bated breath. “To not go to a fucking Halloween party.”

And just like that, your hope deflates. Of course he wasn’t being serious. Why does his blatant disinterest in you make tears threaten behind your eyes? Is your affectionate friendship really so common that it doesn’t mean anything to him?

You quickly stand up from your bed and distract yourself by finding the skirt you want to wear in your pile of clothes on the floor. You clear your throat and rapidly blink back any tears before they fall down your cheeks. “Fine,” you say as you find your skirt. “I don’t want you there anyway. It’s the senior Halloween party and I’m not going to miss it because of you.”

“Fine,” Anakin says back. “Go. I don’t care.”

You gather your clothes in your arms and stand at the foot of your bed. “I have to get dressed first.”

“So?” Anakin is back to throwing the baseball in the air. Oh, you hate him so much sometimes. You swat the ball out of the air so it lands on Anakin’s stomach, making him groan and his legs curl up to his chest. “Ow.”

“So, get out,” you instruct.

“Jeez. Alright, alright.” Anakin slowly gets up from your bed, being the overly dramatic douche you had to fall in love with. “What, they didn’t put enough sugar in your coffee this morning?”

“Out!” you point to your door. You’re fuming with him. Why does he have to be so fucking difficult? At this point, you don’t even want to go to the party but you’ll go anywhere to get away from him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You take a good thirty minutes to get ready for the party. Inspired by a recent rewatch of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, you decided to dress up as a pirate. You didn’t have to buy a shirt or skirt, which helped keep the cost down. You did purchase a corset, hat, and knee high boots from a thrift store in Brooklyn. With the crimson scarf you’ve had since freshman year wrapped around your waist, you’re set.

Anakin waits for you on your aubergine couch in your living room. Why he’s waiting, you’re unsure. He’s stretched across the entire length of the couch, his long legs hanging over the armrest. Upon hearing your boots scuff across the floor, he quickly locks his phone and stands from the couch.

“What are you still doing here?” you brush past him and into the kitchen.

“I changed my mind,” Anakin replies, following you. You don’t notice the way he looks you up and down, soaking in the entire image of you. The scoopy neckline of your shirt, the flounce of your brown skirt, and the tightness of the corset. The only thing he’s disappointed by is the length of your skirt. It’s not short enough.

Still, there’s no way he’s letting you go to the party alone. Somebody has to pretend to be your protective boyfriend to keep the college douchebags away. “I’m going with you.”

You turn around without realizing how close Anakin is to you. You practically step on his toes. He looms over you and you fear he might actually hear your heart racing with how close he is. You back away, straightening your skirt for no other reason than to not look at Anakin. “Are you, now?”

“Yes.” Anakin crosses his arms. “Are you ready?”

“You’re going like that?” You counter. “In a zip-up Yankees hoodie?”

“Take it or leave it, sweetheart.”

You hate him. You love him. You hate that you love him because you know he doesn’t feel the same way. At least not in a romantic way. You grab a banana off of the counter and march toward the door. “I’d rather leave you here.”

“Not an option.” Anakin closes your door and uses his key to lock it. The act of him using the key you gave him for emergencies makes your insides twist. It’s on a ring with his own apartment key, as if he’d need yours as frequently as he needs his own.

You walk down the hallway with a quick pace and make a point to stomp down the stairs, even if it annoys your neighbors more than Anakin. “You’re being exceptionally annoying today.”

“Thank you,” Anakin accepts the insult as if it’s a compliment. He holds the lobby door open for you and a rush of late October air attacks your skin. You have to hold your hat on your head so it doesn’t blow away. You make an effort not to shudder in front of Anakin, knowing how much he hates girls being unprepared for the weather. At least you’re wearing long sleeves. But it’s not not like the fabric was made to keep the Autumn chill out.

The party is only a couple of blocks away in Hell’s Kitchen and you’re determined to stay silent all the way there. You’ll just eat your banana and pray Anakin isn’t in a rare talking mood.

“Why are you walking so fucking fast? I have longer legs than you and I’m practically running.”

You ignore him. You just want to go to the party, have a couple of drinks, maybe flirt with some guys you have no intentions of screwing, and then go home. Preferably without the puppy dog currently following you.

“So. Pirate. Interesting choice. You got a thing for Jack Sparrow or something?” Why does he never have anything interesting to say when you actually want to talk to him? Now he can’t seem to shut up.

Just one more block. Why did he change his mind? Why couldn’t he just be content with going back to his apartment and finding someone to hook up with? You’re sure that’s what he was doing while you were getting ready. The way he locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket when he heard you come out of your room. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you two are dating or anything. He doesn’t have to hide his booty calls from you.

“I see what you’re doing,” Anakin jogs in front of you and starts walking backwards. “You’re ignoring me.”

You give him a look that has “No shit, Sherlock” written all over it.

“Y’know I don’t like being ignored. I’m too sensitive.”

You have to laugh. “You? Sensitive?”

“Ha!” Anakin points at you. “Gotcha.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “We’re here, anyway. I know you’re just gonna find a corner and sulk in it so please, just let me have a good time tonight.”

“Alright,” Anakin surrenders. You walk into the brick building together, the heavy bass of the music thrumming through your bones. “But just one thing.”

You raise your brows, waiting for him to continue. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Your heart skips a beat and you hate how easily he makes you swoon. How easily your feelings of irritation disappear after one compliment. “Just tonight?”

“Ah- what?” Anakin looks at you quizzically. Perhaps he didn’t hear you over the booming music and chatter.

“Never mind!” you shout. “I’m gonna get a drink. You want a beer?”

“Sure,” Anakin shrugs. You nod and skip off without another word. When you don’t come back after twenty minutes, Anakin starts to worry. It doesn’t matter how many girls have come up to him and batted their lashes at him. It doesn’t matter that he has 11 unread messages from several past hookups waiting for him on his phone. What matters is that you’re alone at a college party with booze and guys who get a little too handsy when they’re drunk.

He pushes himself through the crowd, not an ounce of care that he’s severely undressed and out of place. Actually, he’s overdressed. He didn’t know the fire marshal could allow so many shirtless ‘Gladiators’ in one building. And here he thought only girls used Halloween as an excuse not to wear anything. He bumps into several people on his quest for you.

“Hey, man! Watch it!”

“Yo, dickhead, you made me spill my beer!”

“What are you supposed to be? A sad Yankees fan?”

Anakin hardly hears any of it. Actually, everything seems to fall silent when he spots you. Every other body blurs as he focuses on you and your hand on the forearm of some guy dressed as Captain Kirk from Star Trek. At least he has a goddamn shirt on. It doesn't make the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach disappear, though. You know why? It’s because you’re throwing your head back with laughter. Real, genuine laughter. What is this guy saying to you? And why hasn’t Anakin made you laugh like that recently?

When the familiar figure of Anakin approaches you, you instantly feel bad. You forgot to bring him his beer! And then you realize that you actually handed it to the guy you’re talking to. Oops?

“Ani! I never brought you your beer! I am so sorry. I got distracted talking to- oh my God, I don’t even know your name!”

“Oh, uh, Jeff,” the guy tilts his beer bottle toward you and smiles. You smile back and tell him your name. You also introduce Anakin, but he’s not feeling very friendly right now. He’s too busy criticizing the way Captain Kirk introduced himself.

Oh, uh, Jeff? He had to think about his name? He couldn’t just say Jeff?

“Jeff and I were talking about baseball. He’s a Mets fan, though,” you fake gag. “I told him about the foul ball you practically saved me from. Whew, my life flashed before my eyes.”

“Yeah, they come out of nowhere when you’re not paying attention.”

Anakin hates this guy. He fucking hates him. His fists clench by his side before sidling up next to you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist. You stumble when he pulls you toward him. “She was paying attention. Are you implying that she wasn’t watching the game?”

“Anakin, it’s fine,” you place your hand on Anakin’s chest to calm him. “I’m sure that’s not what Jeff meant.”

“Yeah, man, not at all. I’ve had a couple of close calls myself.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been hit in the head a couple of times with the way you introduced yourself,” Anakin spits. “Who has to think about their name? ‘Oh, um, I can’t remember. I think my name is Jeff,’” Anakin mocks.

“Anakin, stop,” you try pushing away from him. “You’re being incredibly rude.”

“I don’t care,” he replies. He begins ushering you away from Walmart Captain Kirk. “We’re leaving.”

“Seriously, Anakin,” you manage to slither out of Anakin’s grasp. “Stop it.”

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” Jeff puffs out his chest.

Anakin steps in front of you and squares himself in front of the guy with no chance with you. “Funny, I was going to ask her the same thing about you.”

“Are you her boyfriend or something?”

“He’s not-” you begin, standing on your toes to talk over Anakin’s shoulder.

“Something like that,” Anakin answers. Huh?

“Whatever,” Jeff scoffs. “Thanks for wasting my time.”

“Wait, Jeff!” you call. “It’s not like that-”

“Let him go,” Anakin grits. “He’s not worth it.”

You had almost forgotten about the frustration Anakin made you feel in your apartment. Now it’s all coming to the surface again. Yes, you feel bad for abandoning him and not bringing him his beer but he had no right to ruin your conversation like that. “Oh, and you are?”

“We’re not talking about this here.” Anakin turns and expects you to follow. You have half a mind not to scream at him in the middle of the party but it would be a waste of breath. He’s already nearing the door. You down the rest of your beer and follow Anakin out of the party and onto the street.

It feels drastically colder outside but perhaps it’s all coming from Anakin’s stare. You stuff your hands beneath your arms in an attempt to keep them warm. “What the hell, Anakin? What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘nothing’? That was not nothing, Anakin. That was… that was…” you search for the word but your toes are starting to freeze. You don’t know how frozen toes correlate to not being able to think, but it does. The wind is biting at your legs and your teeth are chattering.

“Jealousy?” Anakin fills in the blank.

“Yes! Jealousy! Are you fucking jealous, Anakin?”

“So what if I am?”

You’re both shouting unnecessarily but you’re fucking pissed. This cannot be the way you admit your feelings for each other. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. It’s supposed to be romantic. It’s supposed to happen when you’re strolling through the park and the leaves are falling around you and you kiss and everything falls into place. It’s not supposed to happen during a screaming match on the sidewalk while you’re dressed like a historically inaccurate pirate.

“So what if I feel like punching every single guy who talks to you? Or even look at you? Hm?” Anakin is backing you into the wall and you have no choice but to retreat. “I am jealous every fucking day. I feel possessive over you and I know I shouldn’t. You’re mine, even though you’re not.” Anakin has caged you in with his arms pressed against the wall above your head. His leg is nudged between yours and if you just lower yourself a tiny bit, you might feel a bit of friction where it’s needed.

Anakin drops his head down so his nose brushes against your cheek. Your lips are so close, you can feel the warmth of his breath. “You never asked me,” you whisper.

“What?”

“You never asked me to be yours,” you unzip Anakin’s sweatshirt and slide your arms into the warmth of his jacket. You press yourself against his chest and you think perhaps everything is falling into place.

“Then I’m asking you now,” Anakin cradles your face in his hands. He runs his thumbs over your cheekbones and wonders why it took so damn long to finally get to this point. “Will you be mine?”

“I already am.” You pull Anakin down to your lips by the collar of his sweatshirt. He tastes like Altoids and you taste like beer, which isn’t necessarily a pleasant combination but it doesn’t matter. Anakin’s lips are so plush and soft, everything you dreamed they’d be but better. They work against yours like it’s the only thing they’re made for. He’s groaning against you, slipping his tongue carefully past your lips. He’s not overzealous with it like some people are. It’s just perfect. He’s perfect.

The heat in your core continues to grow and spread throughout your body, suddenly warming you up. “Anakin,” you murmur.

“Hmm?” He replies, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. He pays attention to your neck—which smells of vanilla and everything nice— and is nibbling gently but kissing harshly. His hands have found their way to your breasts, massaging you through your bra and you just fucking wish he’d stop for a second because it’s all too distracting.

“Anakin, stop,” you breathe out.

“What? What, are you okay?” Anakin withdraws himself from you completely and you damn near whine at the loss of contact.

“I’m fine, Ani. More than fine.”

Anakin relaxes at your assurance and takes a moment to admire you. Your hat is askew on your head and your shirt is crooked from him cupping with your boobs. He hopes the corset isn’t difficult to take off…

“Anakin?” you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“Huh?”

“What are you thinkin’ about, pretty boy?”

“So many things,” Anakin smirks.

“Care to enlighten me at my apartment?”

“Way ahead of you, babe.” Anakin whips out his phone and orders an Uber. He’s not walking five blocks back to your apartment with a hard-on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You have no clue how either of you manage to keep your hands to yourself in the Uber, but you do. You hardly make it through your door before Anakin’s lips are back on yours with a heavy desperation. He throws your hat off, letting it land who knows where. His hand is on the back of your neck and you’re doing a clumsy dance around your living room. You’re tugging at the roots of his wavy hair, which he’s been growing out since last semester.

You and Anakin are a mess of hands as you’re both trying to get the other’s clothes off with your mouths still attached to each other. He’s fumbling with the laces of your corset and you wonder how long it will take him to realize there’s a zipper in the back.

You shrug off his sweatshirt, leaving him in a basic white tee. Anakin reluctantly breaks away from you when he accepts he’s getting nowhere with your corset. “This thing is fucking impossible,” he groans.

You giggle as you draw the zipper down your back and remove the black corset from your body. You let it drop to the floor as you drape your arms around Anakin’s neck. “You were saying?”

“I hate you,” Anakin says with a smile.

“You love me.”

“So much,” he replies, lips trailing down your neck once again. “I love you so much it consumes me. I’ve tried to fill this void inside of me with other women but it’s never enough. It’s not enough because they’re not you.”

You’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. You consume him. He loves you. You’ve never been happier. “I love you too, Anakin. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea,” he smiles. He grabs a fistful of your skirt and slips his hands beneath the hem to find your panties. “Are you going to let me take care of you tonight?”

“Anything,” you nod, giving him the permission to remove your panties. You take off your boots and blouse and while it’s by no means a show, Anakin is enjoying every second of it.

“I’ll let you do anything, Anakin.” You unclip your bra so all that you’re left in is your skirt. Anakin is still wearing a shirt and jeans, which is only mildly infuriating since his golden tan skin looks so radiant against the bright white of his shirt.

As Anakin admires you, he can’t possibly be filled with any more lust than he is right now. Three years of pining after you is surging through his veins and his cock is insanely hard. He’s imagined this so many times. Would he fuck you slowly? Or maybe you’d rather have it fast and hard. Do you like to be called sweet things? Would you be his good girl? Or would you rather be his little slut?

He’s overwhelmed with the incessant need to taste your cunt. “Get on the couch,” he instructs. “Take your skirt off, too. I want to see all of you.”

You nod and once you’ve stepped out of the fabric, you situate yourself on your couch. Anakin kneels down in front of you and resists the urge to spread your legs open so he can see your pussy. “You have to take something off, too,” you say sweetly.

Anakin swiftly tears his shirt over his head and you knew he was fit, but you just didn’t realize how fit. “Oh my God,” you practically drool.

“Yeah?” Anakin smirks whilst hooking his arms beneath your thighs, pulling your ass to the edge of the couch. His cock strains against his jeans even more now that he can see your glistening pussy. “You like what you see, sweetheart?”

You shrug. “Mm, yeah. It’s alright, I guess.”

“You’re a little brat,” Anakin says before kissing up your thigh. The feather-light touch of his warm lips makes you wiggle. Your hand rests atop of Anakin’s head, fingers massaging his scalp in an effort to keep him traveling up to your core. “You’re lucky I can’t resist a pretty pussy like yours.”

“Is it the prettiest?”

Anakin lays a kiss on the inside of your other thigh. His nose brushes against your clit as he places a chaste kiss over your folds while running two fingers down your slit. “No doubt about it, babe,” Anakin praises. Fuck, you smell divine. He wants to spend all day between your thighs. “The absolute prettiest. Bet you taste the sweetest, too.”

With that, Anakin dips a finger inside of you, making you gasp. “Fuck, sweetheart,” Anakin sucks in a breath. He lays his head on your thigh to watch his finger disappear inside of you and then reappear glistening with your juices. “How can you be this wet already? I’ve barely gotten started.”

You roll your head along the couch cushions, impossibly worked up and craving more than just one of Anakin’s fingers. “Then show me what you’re made of, Skywalker.”

Oh, that sends a jolt straight through Anakin’s cock. He wastes no more time teasing you and slips another finger into your hole while attaching his lips to your clit. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your bundle of nerves, two long fingers are curling against your walls, and Anakin can’t get enough. Pussy just tastes better when you love the person you’re eating out. It’s pure saccharine to him. He needs it pumped into his blood to survive.

Anakin finesses his cock out of his pants and strokes himself several times to alleviate the terrible pain that has come over him. Your strangled cries of pleasure and hand on his head pushing him further into your cunt encourages Anakin to add a third finger. “Anakin! Fuck!”

“You like that, baby?” Anakin is breathless, lips coated with your nectar. “You like being stretched by my fingers?”

“Mm,” you hum, fisting his hair, “yes.”

“Bet you do.” Anakin bites the inside of your thigh and pumps his three digits agonizingly slowly so he can really admire the stretch. It’s a toe curling sensation and a bit foreign more than anything. You had no idea fingers could feel so good. Maybe it’s just Anakin’s. He places the pad of his thumb on your clit, applying even pressured circles and yeah, it’s totally just Anakin who makes you feel this good. “Good little whores love to be stretched out.”

“Oh my God!” you exclaim, pussy clenching at Anakin calling you a whore. Your bodily response doesn’t go unnoticed by Anakin. No, he’s storing all of this in his memory, creating a file of all the things that make you go wild. “Fuck me, Anakin. Please.”

“Currently doing that with fingers, sweetheart.” He pumps his fingers faster but rolls over your nub with a more delicate touch. By now you’re squirming off of the couch, heels digging into the cushion and all you can do is chant Anakin’s name. You’re caught in a dichotomy of wanting to cum while also wanting Anakin’s cock. “C’mon, angel, let it go. I want you to cum on my fingers before you take my cock.”

“But I- hngh…” your words are mangled as it’s no longer an option to stave off your orgasm. Your clit is overly sensitive and the tightness in your tummy begins to unravel as your walls pulse around Anakin’s three fingers. “Mm— oh, fuck! Ani-”

“That’s it, baby,” Anakin coos. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you cum.” He draws his fingers from you one by one, each time making you cry from emptiness. Anakin sits beside you on the couch, bringing his fingers soaked in your goodness up to your mouth. You open obediently, only taking in two of them. Your tangy sweetness coats your tongue and you’re looking straight into Anakin’s ocean eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel seasick.

When Anakin takes his fingers out of your mouth, you maneuver yourself on top of Anakin. The rough denim of his jeans creates a rough contrast to the silky tip of his cock poking your thigh. He manages to get his jeans down his legs and around his ankles. Kicking his feet out of them impatiently, his large hands find a home on your breasts while you grab the base of him and position him under your cunt. He’s kneading your mounds gently, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You slot your lips between his as you lower yourself onto his lap.

“F-fuck, Ani,” you rest your forehead on Anakin’s as your breathing becomes one. He runs his hands down your tummy, landing on your waist and gives you an encouraging squeeze. “So big, so full,” you murmur. Anakin guides your hips forward and backward, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He’s sucking down hard, no other thought other than claiming you as his.

It’s fucking magnificent having his cock nestled deep inside of you while you’re moaning in his ear, and soft hands roaming his upper body. His hands drop down to your ass, grabbing a handful of your peachy cheeks. You start bouncing on his cock, each time you drop down you feel like he’s in your stomach. “Cunt’s so fuckin’ greedy,” Anakin groans. “You just can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

“Mmh, nuh uh,” you babble mindlessly. Your legs are starting to ache but the pain goes in tandem with the pleasure. Anakin presses your chest to his with his arms around your back. You kiss along his jaw lazily, feeling your energy deplete with each landing on Anakin’s thick length. “Need you to…mmm-”

“Say no more.” Anakin flips you over seamlessly with his cock still anchored inside of you. He hikes your leg over his shoulder and he drills into you at a delicious new angle. His fingers fall to your clit and it sends you soaring. “Fuck,” Anakin breathes. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this tight cunt from me for three years.”

“Y-yours now,” you have some brain cells left to respond. He’s fucking you hard, tits bouncing with each thrust and Anakin just has to have one in his mouth. While he encloses his lips over one of your nipples, he cups your other breast in his hand. He flicks his tongue across your bud and suckles, as if there’s something in there to nourish him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant. It’s all getting to be too much. The bulge you feel in your belly, the pressure on your clit, Anakin’s warm mouth on your breast. How is he so good at doing so many things? “Ani, I’m close.”

“I feel it, angel,” Anakin drags his lips across your chest and up your neck until he reaches his final destination. With his lips slotted between yours once more, the roll of his hips is languid and methodical. He’s bringing you along gradually, until your second orgasm washes over you and your limbs are convulsing. You moan into Anakin’s mouth and he swallows it happily. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“Mouth!” you manage to say. Anakin loses every single semblance of control he had when you utter that one word. He pulls out of you just as he begins to cum, hot ropes landing on your chest before he’s propped his foot by your head and shoves his cock between your lips.

Your warm mouth welcomes him greedily as his seed coats your tongue. “Shit,” Anakin grumbles. “Such a little cum slut.”

You nod submissively, wrapping your hands around the rest of his length, all slippery from your juices. You look so fucking sexy with his dick in your mouth, he can’t even think straight. You on the other hand, you could suck his cock all damn day. You don’t even have to think while you’re doing it, you’ll just let your hands, mouth, and tongue do whatever they want. It isn’t until you feel his dick start to soften do you realize he’s finished releasing his load.

Anakin breathlessly slumps down on the other side of your couch. You scoop up his cum from your chest and bring it to your mouth. “Don’t. Don’t fucking do that,” Anakin says rather firmly.

“Why not?” you blink innocently.

“You know exactly why.”

You don’t reply. Instead, you crawl over to him, pulling the blanket that’s draped over the back of your couch and lay on top of Anakin’s chest. He lets you get comfortable as you’re sandwiched between his body and the back cushions of your couch. Once you’ve settled, his strong arm holds you against him protectively. He kisses the top of your head gently and mumbles something you can’t understand.

Neither of you say anything the rest of the night. Anakin isn’t a man of many words, anyway. But when he has something to say, he’ll make sure he gets his point across. The point he made tonight was very clear.

He loves you.

remember to reblog and leave comments to support authors!

(ps i'm not a yankees or mets fan. hayden's sweatshirt just kinda looks like the yankees logo even though i know it's not. okay that's it.)

◂ anakin masterlist ▸ main masterlist

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker one shot #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern!au #college au #modern au

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hollyoongs · 7 months ago

Text

THANK YOU, JAKE ✦ S.JY

pairing tasp!jake x news intern!fem reader

summary when you told your friend about the challenge that your boss put you on in order to work on the company, which was taking a picture of the amazing Spider Man, Jake makes it come true.

genre fluff

warnings both of them like each other, cameo of Jay and Ri-Ki, everything is NYC and I tried to make it short for the other one that I'm planning to make it in the future <3

a/n I can finally get this one up here, I'll do the second part with smut, but Jake's fluff is already needed in this profile. Shout out to the editor of THIS Jake Spider-Man, my jupi @glitterjay and also to my lovely moot @ja3yun, this is the spidey!jake I was preparing ;) [PART TWO: 🕸]

wc +3.0k

It was one of those days where everything seemed to conspire against you. As you trudged through the bustling streets of New York City, your camera bag heavy on your shoulder, you couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The sweltering heat of the summer sun only added to your irritation as you made your way to the Daily Bugle, where you were interning as a photographer.

Your future boss, Mr. Jameson, was notorious for his gruff demeanor and demanding nature. Today seemed to be no exception, as he barked orders at the staff, his voice reverberating through the newsroom like thunder. Your friend, Jay, was massaging his forehead, and you couldn't help but go there first. He looked up to see you and gave you a tired smile.

"Rough already?"

"And it's not even 9 a.m." Jay spat in anger, and you opened your bag to give him some of the jelly you always carry around. He took them slightly happier, opening as he started talking again. "He's putting stupid challenges on everyone here. Rumor has it that he's getting jealous of the other newspaper company since they took the #1 place from us."

"Well, wish me luck." You braced yourself for another onslaught of criticism as you approached his desk, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Jameson said, his tone dripping with impatience. "I've got a special assignment for you."

You felt your heart sink at his words, knowing that whatever task he had in store would likely be arduous and thankless, just like Jay said. But you nodded, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

"I want you to get me a picture of Spider-Man," he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing in a challenging glare.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his request. Spider-Man? The elusive vigilante who swung through the city was a hero to some and a menace to others. Getting a photo of him in action was no small feat, and you knew it.

"But how am I supposed to…" you began, but Mr. Jameson cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't care how you do it; just get it done," he said firmly. "And make it front-page material, or you'll be out of your ear."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, you felt a wave of panic wash over you. How were you supposed to capture a photo of Spider-Man when you could barely catch a break in your own life? Desperation clawed at your chest as you racked your brain for a solution. He looked at Jay, and he was with his mouth open. She was simply screwed.

The hours passed slowly, and 7 o'clock of the night finally reached, which made you fly to the only place you find comfort at the moment. Shim Jake's place. Feeling all the weight on your shoulders, you sigh as you knock on the door. His aunt opens before your knuckles can touch the door.

"Hey darling… Oh no, bad day?" like a button, your eyes got watery, and she hugged you. You hold your tears as she loses you in the warm hug. "I'm going to buy food. Jake and Ni-Ki are in the room. I know what you like."

"You are truly the best, May."

"I know, darling. Go." She left you, and you entered the house, going directly to the Australian boy's room. You knocked, and you heard things falling.

"Who's it?"

"Who else, Ni-Ki? Come on, I had a bad day, and I need you guys."

"Hold on a second!" A few seconds passed, and Jake was the one who opened the door, his messy hair, sweat pant and big white shirt and hsi big glasses that made him look more handsome than usual in front of you. "Hey lensgirl, what's wrong?"

You went for a hug, this time with tears going down and your crying getting noticeable.

Jake was taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you pulled away slightly. "It's just… work," you managed to choke out between sobs. "Mr. Jameson… He wants me to get a photo of Spider-Man for the front page, and I- I don't know how to do it. I'm so screwed, Jake."

Jake's expression softened with understanding, though you had no idea just how much he truly understood. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated, guiding you to sit on his bed. "We'll figure it out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Ni-Ki, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from behind the doorframe. "Jake can help," he said, and you could feel Jake getting tense. You looked up to Ni-Ki.

"What?"

"Jake knows Spider-Man. You could get the picture." You open your eyes as your eyes travel again to Jake's.

"Since when?!" You practically shouted at him, and he gave a shy smile, which you loved, but the thought of him being friends with the hero and not telling you was in your mind.

"I'll tell you right after you clean and calm yourself. You know what? Go to the bathroom." As you were protesting, Jake obligated you to go inside. The boys went straight to the room and locked it, Jake basically punching Ni-Ki for opening his mouth.

"Are you being serious?! Why did you say that?"

"You know I'm fond of her, and I can't stand her crying. And also, I'm doing you a favor; you've liked her since forever, and with this, you can make a move. And you know that she loves Spider-Man. I consider this a win."

Jake's heart raced as he processed Ni-Ki's words. He couldn't deny the truth about them. He had harbored feelings for you for what felt like forever, but he never found the courage to act on them, and because of the sudden powers he got after being bite by a spider, the dangers were too much to the point he would rather die with the secret in order to keep you save. That's how much he loved you.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Keeping his identity as Spider-Man a secret was crucial, and now, with you unknowingly on the brink of discovering the truth, he felt the pressure mounting.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jake turned to Ni-Ki. "Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But we have to be careful. She can't know about this, Ni-Ki. It's too risky."

Ni-Ki nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I won't say anything else, I promise. Only you have to stay cool, you get to nervous around her. I'm surprise you're not right now" he assured Jake.

"Because someone open his mouth"

"Stop crying and be grateful. I pulled a move that you couldn't make for the past 4 years."

It has already been two days since that weird conversation and the explanation of Jake being friends with Spider-Man. It was so odd to you, but the most odd thing was when he told you by text, "I will send you the address where he's going to be."

And here you were, going into the alley for him to arrive. It was getting late, and you could feel your heart beating fast when you saw a few guys in there, cigars in their hands, their auras as bad as how they looked.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, which you ignored completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ignored the leering comments from the men in the alley. You clutched your camera bag tightly, feeling a surge of unease as you realized just how vulnerable you were in this dimly lit space.

Just as panic threatened to overtake you, a familiar sound cut through the tension—a whoosh of air followed by the distinct thud of impact. Before you could even process what was happening, Spider-Man descended from the shadows, landing gracefully in front of you with his trademark agility.

"Hey there, fellas," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't think the lady appreciates your company."

The men scoffed, eyeing Spider-Man with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And who are you supposed to be, huh?" One of them sneered, taking a step forward. You started taking your camera out of your bag, setting it up for a good shot, and to make it take as many photos as you could as both men focused on the hero.

Spider-Man's demeanor shifted subtly, his stance becoming more assertive as he addressed the group. "Let's just say I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I'm not too keen on seeing people hassle innocent bystanders, especially this pretty girl," he replied, his tone firm.

The men hesitated, sizing up the masked vigilante before them. But before they could make another move, Spider-Man sprang into action, his movements a blur of speed and precision. With calculated strikes and well-timed dodges, he swiftly incapacitated the would-be troublemakers, leaving them groaning on the ground in defeat.

You watched in awe as Spider-Man effortlessly dispatched the thugs, a surge of gratitude welling up inside you. Once the immediate threat had been neutralized, Spider-Man turned to you, his masked eyes meeting yours with a sense of warmth and reassurance. You took your camera and looked at the pictures, so many good enough to be front page material.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, his concern evident even behind the mask.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you in his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay," you stammered, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded before you. You felt some drops of water falling on your face, looking up at the sky and wondering if more drops were falling. "Damn it, it's raining."

"Then let me take you out of here." without a warning, his hand wrapped around your waist, both of your bodies covering the camera. "Hold on tight lensgirl," you frown at the nicknmae. There's only one person that could call you like that, but you couldn't think much of it as you held dear life to him as he swang you around places.

You ended up on your apartment building—in your balcony, to be more exact—and the roof kept both of you off the water, you went inside for a moment to leave the camera in your bed and return. He was hanging from the ceiling as you watched him, forcing you to believe that everything that happened in the past ten minutes was not a dream.

"Don't you want to stand up? So you don't get dizzy."

"I like it this way. Don't worry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem, that's my job."

"Because you're a hero," the masked guy sighs in front of you. making you feel slighty sad for it.

"Some people don't think so." and it was true, all the fake rumors to paint him as a bad guy made you think about how much free time all this people have to just tear the life of someone who really wants to help.

"But you are, at least I think that."

"It's nice to have a fan as pretty as you."

"Let me say thank you."

"But you already did."

"I meant the trip, not you saving me." You approached him more, and the sound of the rain at the back made the scene more lovely. Then slowly took the mask, only showing his lips. You were surprised by the familiar shape, making your mind go wild. No wonder Ni-Ki and Jake got nervous; no wonder Jake was the only one that could help you with the hero; and there's no wonder why he called you "Lensgirl."

Jake was Spider-Man.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you place your lips on his. The kiss was electrifying, a rush of emotions coursing through both of you as your lips met in a tender embrace. Raindrops fell softly around you, adding to the surreal moment as you shared this intimate connection with the masked hero who had just swept you off your feet—literally.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. Everything suddenly made sense—the mysterious conversations, the unspoken tension between you and Jake, even the strange nickname he had given you. It was all because he was Spider-Man, the hero you had admired from afar, and now he was the man whose lips were pressed against yours.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of you tangled together on that rooftop balcony.

"Thank you, Jake," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"Wait… how?"

"You let out "Lensgirl," and I've stared at your lips too much to actually know the shape," he finally dropped himself, taking off his mask completely, revealing his red cheeks and normal shy demeanor.

He actually searched your face for any sign of rejection. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "But I wanted to tell you, not in this way; I've got to learn to also shut my mouth up. I… I care about you more than you'll ever know."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his face in your hands, the weight of everything finally sinking in. "I care about you too, Jake," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just… I never imagined…"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jake leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you with a promise of something more.

With a smile on your lips and love in your heart, you leaned into Jake's embrace, letting the warmth of his touch chase away the chill of the night as you watched the city skyline glitter in the rain.

"Please write a good news about me."

"Trust me, you'll sure have it, Spidey."

"I just realized that I've to thank Ri-Ki, damn it."

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goldenroutledge · 2 months ago

Text

champagne problems

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you catch lando’s eye at an art auction in monaco, so he challenges you to a friendly competition for one of the paintings. little does he know, you’d stop at nothing to get it. inspired by this request.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, illegal things vaguely mentioned, gossip girl au

a/n: thank you to @monzaaasharl for letting me use the request! based on events from gossip girl s6 ep6 but can be read without seeing the show! it is mentioned the reader is chuck’s stepsister, à la serena van der woodsen 🥂

lando norris masterlist

The reception was glamorous. Everything you would expect at an event like this, in a place of this caliber. Monaco was one of a kind that way; tuxedos were tailored to perfection and designer gowns flooded the room. The people adorning them certainly had the bank accounts to match.

For you, these scenes and crowds weren’t out of the ordinary. You’d been a part of them for many years at home in New York City. Sometimes alongside your mother at parties where her husband, and one of the city’s richest businessmen, commanded everyone’s attention.

The name Bart Bass spoke for itself, for better and for worse. You could only be so lucky that you were a teenager when your mother married him years ago.

Your step brother Chuck was not as lucky, being the one and only son of Bart’s. Under the weight of the Bass name, he could only hope to change the legacy that had been left for him. One that wasn’t tainted by duplicity and deceit.

If you could help him change that even a little bit, you would. It wasn’t a lonely effort either. Your entire friend group seemed to stick together in defining moments like these. When Chuck discovered a trail that would lead to the exposure of his father’s illegal business practices, there was no hesitation in your offer to help.

Bart often got away with any and everything, always facing little to no consequences for his wrongdoings. Paying off associates or officials using tens of millions in hush money was hardly a dent in the bank to someone like him.

Tonight, all of that could change. The justice you were looking for was right here in Monaco; a thin piece of microfilm enclosed in the back of a 1998 Richard Phillips painting being auctioned off tonight. Titled— The Spectrum.

On the film were numbers, nearly too small to see with the naked eye, that directly incriminate Bart in an illegal business deal. With a favorable social status and a hefty trust fund in your name, your logic tells you that it’s crazy to get wrapped up in all this knowing that if Bart finds out, he would likely turn your mother against you.

But your conscience reminds you just how many lies and just how much loss your family has endured at the hands of Bart Bass.

The soft touch of Nate’s hand on your shoulder interrupts your daydreamy stare into a flute of champagne. He’s out of breath and looks slightly panicked.

“Bart knows we’re here for the painting.”

“What?!”

“But Chuck’s following Bart’s guys, he won’t let them get near it.”

“The bidding starts in 10 minutes!”

“He won’t get here in time, it’s up to us. Think you can handle it?”

You give your best friend a knowing smirk, one that he returns.

“I know I can. These people may be rich as hell but Chuck would give his right arm for that microfilm. I won’t back down to anyone who bids on it.”

Your eyes flicker over to the painting, before they lock with a pair of blue ones across the gallery. He offers a subtle smile before turning his attention back to the painting. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a little too interested in the piece for your liking.

In a room full of deep pockets you knew you wouldn’t win a bidding war without a fight, but the challenge made it all the more entertaining. You turned to Nate, whose phone started ringing with a call from Chuck.

His eyes searched yours for reassurance and promise that you’d execute the plan.

You smiled at him, embracing your inner confidence mixed with a little liquid courage. “Answer him, I’ll take care of this.”

He nods, chuckling slightly as he follows your line of sight to the man admiring the painting. “Good luck.”

Lando fixated on the beautiful hues of The Spectrum. Though he can admit that the art doesn’t hold a candle to the woman that caught his eye across the room. He couldn’t tell if he was blinded by her smile or the sparkle of her dress, catching subtle glimpses of her throughout the evening.

His trance was broken by the soft clicks of stilettos inching closer and closer towards him, though the sounds were muffled over chattering guests and classical music.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? No wonder you’ve had your eyes on it all night.”

Lando’s head turned towards the woman’s voice, cheeks warming as he recognized you instantly. He wondered if you had been noticing him too, or at least knew who he was. Lando smirks and takes a subtle step closer to you.

If you weren’t about to psych him out of bidding on the painting, you’d be enamored by the scent of his cologne.

“Can’t help it, I’m naturally drawn to beautiful things.”

“Well, I guess you’re in the right place because this room is full of them.”

“That it is.” He teases, holding your eye contact while taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s almost impossible to find something I like best, but I think this one will blend in perfectly with the rest of my collection. Do you collect?”

“Art? No, I don’t collect art.”

“Then what is it you collect…?” Your sentence fizzles, realizing you hadn’t exchanged names.

“Lando.”

“Okay Lando, what is it you collect?”

He raises his eyebrows, almost surprised at the question, but chooses to be coy.

“Cars.”

“So then what brings you to an art auction?”

He shrugs in response. “Is it my turn to ask questions…?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, what brings you to this auction?”

“I already said, my collection.” You smile, matching his coyness. If he wanted to be short and sweet, two could play at that game.

“Which is…?”

“In my apartment. In New York.”

“Wow, long way from home. You wouldn’t happen to be in need of someone to show you around, would you?”

“Not really, I’m just here for the painting.”

“Maybe you came for the painting, but I could give you a reason to stay.”

You roll your eyes at his flirty attempts, ultimately brushing him off. “And what reason would that be? A private tour of your car collection?”

“You’d be surprised. What happens if I decide to take home the Richard Phillips myself?”

“You mean if you’re able to outbid me for it?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” Lando assures. “I promise I’ll let you come over and see it.”

“No need. The painting is what brought me here, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving without it.”

Maybe it was the competitor in him, (it probably was), but seeing you get more and more eager about the work of art fueled something inside of him. Sure, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to step aside and let you have it. But where was the fun in that?

“You mean the painting that you only noticed about 5 minutes ago? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were using it as a cover to come over and talk to me.”

“Forgive me for sounding rude but… who are you?”

“I don’t just collect cars, Y/n. I‘m a Formula One driver.”

Your unimpressed stare makes him feel like an idiot, once he quickly realizes that maybe you really don’t have an ulterior motive.

“In any case, The Spectrum will look much better decorating the halls of my apartment than it will look collecting dust in your bachelor pad. It’s not like you’ll even be at home to enjoy it.”

“We’ll see about that-” Lando continues, before the bid caller starts introducing the pieces of art, the Richard Phillips being the crown jewel of them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we’re ready to begin, I’d like to start the bidding for the Richard Phillips at $500,000.”

Lando raises his bidding paddle immediately, quick reflexes and all. “500.”

“I hear $500,000, going once..”

“520!” You respond, before lowering your voice so only Lando can hear your next statement. “You may be an athlete but I promise this is a race you won’t be winning.”

“Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He teases, raising his bidding paddle once more. “540!”

“560!” You announce with confidence, eyes shooting daggers at the man beside you.

Another guest made a bid for 570, prompting Lando to bid 580.

“580!” The announcer calls. “Do I have 600?”

“$750,000!” You shout, turning heads.

Oddly enough, your bid inspires others to chime in also. There had to be something about what they wanted to prove to everyone else in the room— there was always someone richer in Monaco.

Lando certainly looks at you in disbelief, wondering how far you’ll take this. “Oh, now you’re just showing off. You only want the damn thing because I do anyway!”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Then why do you want it so bad?”

“It would be a nice treat for my family and I, that’s all.” Your eyes flicker around the room to the other bidding paddles, the number climbing quickly. “What’s it to you? Why do you want it so bad?”

Lando shrugs, raising his paddle to bid $920,000. “It’s for a good cause.”

“920… Going once, going twice…”

“1 million dollars!” You shout, looking around the room, daring anyone to exceed your bid.

Lando’s mouth hangs open and for a second he almost wants to challenge it.

But then he imagines the heart attack it would likely give his business manager to see a surprise million-dollar charge to his account.

“What?” You question him insincerely. “It’s for a good cause.”

“1 million dollars! Going once, going twice…. Sold to the lady in silver!”

You smile graciously at the applause from the crowd. After all, this was a victory for the charity of the evening. Little did they know you just secured a victory of your own.

Lando sighs. “Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband will be thrilled.”

“Husband? What are you talking about?”

“That man you’ve been whispering with all night. You said the painting was for your family?”

“Who, Nate?” Your face scrunches up in perplexity, following Lando’s line of sight towards the back of the room where Nate is standing with Chuck, clapping and beaming with pride that everything went according to plan, the painting is yours now.

“Yeah, whatever his name is.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. And if you must know, I’m not married.”

Lando chuckles, part amused and part embarrassed that he jumped to conclusions. He reminds himself that he needs to stop doing that.

“And he didn’t send you over here to flirt with me in hopes that I wouldn’t outbid you?”

“He didn’t put me up to anything, I am way above those childish antics! And I’d hardly call any of that flirting.”

“Whatever it was, I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

You smile at him, contemplating your answer. “I suppose. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I have only good intentions.”

“Well either way, I still have to find my mum a new birthday present.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his drink.

Your smile falters and you give his arm a nudge, taken aback by his confession. “The painting was for your mother? Why didn’t you say that?!”

“I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, Y/n, but you’re not that easy to negotiate with.”

“I’ve been told. But for the record, neither are you.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have given up the painting. So I don’t hold it against you.” Lando concedes, but starts eyeing you suspiciously. “Although… I still don’t know your motive. I mean all of that drama simply for your art collection which is 4,000 miles across the Atlantic? I don’t believe it. So tell me, Y/n, what’s your motive?”

Lando chuckles at the stone cold stare you give him in return. “It’s only fair, Y/n, I told you mine.”

“Are we in first grade or something?”

By the look he’s giving you, it’s obvious that he’s actually dead serious.

At which you sigh, surrendering to the man’s relentless attempts to get a real answer out of you. Moments prior you did the same to him, except it’s not as fun when the tables are turned.

“The Richard Phillips painting, it belongs to my mother.”

Lando’s eyes widen in disbelief, like a deer in headlights. “You bid a million dollars on a painting you might as well already own?! Fucking hell, why on Earth woul-”

Abruptly, you take him by the arm and escort him away from the main crowd, an action that shocks you both.

But the last thing you needed was for him to blabber out all of your secrets, draw attention to you both and blow your cover in this crowded room.

“Long story short, my stepfather has been involved in some…not exactly legal business practices. And I’m not talking about some common white collar crimes, he makes Madoff look like a fucking Saint. He’s been hiding his proof in the back of that Richard Phillips painting, sort of in plain sight to throw the scent off. My mom’s had that painting in the apartment as long as I’ve been alive. By the time I found out the evidence was in there she had already sold it. My stepbrother tracked it down, and here I am.”

Lando looks like he doesn’t know what to say, equal parts confused and concerned for what kind of danger you might be in or just how deep this all goes.

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain everything but just know that he’s hurt a lot of people, not only my family and I. He deserves what’s coming to him and it starts with what’s hidden behind that painting.”

His heart softens at the look of purpose and conviction in your eyes, understanding that whatever this is, it’s bigger than you and him.

“Well if he’s facing your wrath, I should probably be wishing him the best of luck. Whatever the consequences to his actions, the U.S. government is no match for you.”

At that you let out a laugh, one that’s genuine and full of heart. You can’t even remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, and it was refreshing.

“That’s very sweet, Lando, even if you didn’t intend it that way. I just hope I’m not going to all of this trouble for nothing. I don’t want it to be in vain.”

“It won’t be, you’ll see.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Just a hunch.” He muses sarcastically, feigning uncertainty.

For the first time tonight you feel appreciative towards him, to the kindness and listening ear he’s giving you, a total stranger until about 20 minutes ago.

The irony wasn’t lost on you that while he was bidding on the art for a gift to his mother, you were bidding on it to repossess evidence that would send your stepfather to prison for the rest of his life, likely devastating your own mother in the process.

“Let me help with your mother’s birthday gift. Please?”

He raises his eyebrows at your sudden offer, wondering how or why you would be interested.

“You don’t need to do that. Aren’t you a little busy with your own family?”

“Somewhat. That doesn’t mean I can’t make it up to you.”

“You won the painting fair and square, Y/n.”

“Please?” You nearly begged, widening your eyes.

Lando sighs jokingly as a way of admitting defeat. “We really are in first grade.”

“See, I knew you’d come around! Art Basel will be in Miami soon, I’ll stay for the whole week if I have to. Surely I can find some amazing pieces for your mother there, I might even find another Richard Phillips painting!”

“I don’t dare underestimate you again.” He quips, raising his glass to you. “I have no doubt that we will find something.”

“We?”

“I’m a Formula One driver, remember? We’ve been racing in Miami for a couple years now, I hope you’re prepared to stay there for the weekend.”

You roll your eyes at his bargain, of course he already has plans laid out for you. “You’re as persuasive as you are slick, Lando.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“You’re as sharp as you are stubborn, Y/n.”

“You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”

He laughs, impressed at how you manage to stay one step ahead of his banter. “Just promise me one thing?”

You humor him with an unsure look, knowing you would accept his terms anyway. “What’s that?”

“Don’t get into anymore bidding wars with handsome strangers.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s our thing.”

“Okay, Lando. I think I can agree to that.” You muse, holding out your pinky for him, the two of you subconsciously moving closer into each other’s space. “From here on out, bidding wars will be our thing.”

Lando accepts, but decides to challenge you further. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think pinky promises are binding, Y/n.”

You nod slowly in acknowledgement, realizing just how close the two of you are standing now, and how intensely he seems to be focusing on the beautiful features of yours he’s had yet to see up close.

Now that you think of it, you haven’t had a chance to take a good look at him either. His eyes are as captivating as his smart aleck wit that’s been keeping you on your toes from the moment you two spoke.

And in a split second, you forget all that was stopping you from noticing what drew you in to Lando to begin with. Your lips collide with his, the stress and tension you’ve been carrying melting away into the kiss, and he’s certainly eager enough to take it on for you.

Mesmerized by each other, you then forget how the hell you both ended up here, tucked away in a dark room from the art you were just competing for.

Until you do remember that you are still proving a point after all, breaking away from the kiss just a moment too soon and smirking in his face.

“How’s that for binding, Lando?”

He appears amazed, out of breath and slightly shocked that you went there. You, however, were carrying on with ease, your thumb brushing over his lips at the faint stain of your lipstick on him.

“Close enough.” Lando coaxes, this time bringing his thumb to brush against your cheek delicately.

His fingertips may as well have been on fire by the way his touch made you feel red hot, and yours to him. Instead of backing away from the burn, Lando leaned in, giving into temptation and meeting your lips once again.

💌: this is my first time writing for lando! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3

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throughparisallthroughrome · 1 month ago

Text

"Got the Blues Back in Boston"

Chapter 1

Pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Description: Leaving behind an incompatible college and profound heartbreak on the Virginia Coast, you find yourself home again in Brookline, Massachusetts. A new opportunity presents itself to you at MIT, joining your brother ben and childhood friends/neighbors, Anakin and Ahsoka. Despite the familiarity, you discover just how much of a difference 2 years away can really make between the people you once considered family.

Warnings:f!reader, angst, jealousy, pining, smut, masturbation, mentions/descriptions of domestic abuse, cursing, drinking/drug usage, academic obsession, general obsession, hardcore partying, frats, general college bullshit

DISCLAIMER!!! READ BEFORE PROCEEDING: I’ve never been in an abusive relationship- I’ve only witnessed them. I’m an aspiring psychology major and have done a lot of research on the topic of domestic abuse/violence. This series deals with this topic HEAVILY, so be warned.

Word Count: 6.3k A/N: First chapter is up! I'm sorry it took so long, I was really hoping to nail a certain feel and aesthetic with this series, and I really hope that translates. I'm probably gonna post the playlist I listen to while writing this because it does have a lot of influence on the story and everything. Please let me know if you wish to be tagged! Requests and ask box is open, and any/all criticism is welcome! Thank you for reading and supporting me <3

masterlist.

The drive to Brookline was always a hassle. Whether it was crossing the scary bridge along the coast of Virginia or through New York City—knowing that you’d still never been—it always ached. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been home in two years—and you missed Boston.

Piled high in the back of your black Ford Focus was the last two years of your life that you could fit. You left behind everything else.

The forest that encompassed you on I-95 offered a clearer perspective on your situation. As devastating as it had been, your new beginning after high school was not quite what you expected it to be. Hampton was a lovely place; the beaches were excellent, the people friendly, and there was always something to do. Somewhere to go. You made decent money working as a cocktail waitress in a club near your apartment, which is how you met Nick.

Tall, with a handsome face and a charm that was impossible to resist, Nick was the kind of man you couldn't help but be drawn to. He had a gorgeous smile and a body sculpted from the gods. The night you met him, he smooth-talked his way into your bed, introducing himself as Nicholas, saying how he never met someone as beautiful as you. The other waitresses just didn’t compare. And the rest was history. Were you usually the type to sleep with someone on the first date (if you could call it that)? Definitely not. But something about him was so captivating.

But as the trees passed you by and your grip on your steering wheel tightened, you felt a tear fall onto your shaking hands. What happened to the Nick you loved? What went wrong? Who did you both turn into? Besides, the whole thing going south was your fault- you both knew that. You wanted too much; you let those men flirt, and you were never there for him. You never did what he asked. And you’d never amount to anything. At least, that’s what Nick always told you- and part of you was inclined to believe it.

Your heart ached at the loss. The 11-hour drive was increasingly painful by the second, only two hours in and not even through the first city. The morning sun beamed in your eye as your car trudged through the wetlands, bathed in its golden hue.1 In the distance, you could make out the skyline of DC, the first city you needed to travel through.

It was nice in DC. You had attended a few times in the past. On one of the many family vacations you took throughout the years, you, your parents, and the Skywalkers had all made a trip together to that specific destination. You intentionally took the longer way home to ensure you remember it all. Besides, the Delaware Peninsula was far from interesting. And you needed the time to think- and probably mentally prepare yourself for what you’d arrive at.

The most exciting part of the trip was Baltimore, Philly, and NYC back to back. Despite sitting in mind-numbing traffic a lot of times, there was always something to look at. And people-watching was always your favorite. You felt your heart hurt, wishing for the opportunities that these cities could bring. As New York City and Hartford disappeared in the rearview mirror, the approaching Boston skyline sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. And there was the traffic.

You shakily reached for a cigarette out of your purse as your car came to a stop, breaking your own promise that you wouldn’t smoke in the car you bought. A wide smile spread across your face as you lit the cigarette, your body relaxing as the sweet scent filled the air. Naturally, your mind went straight to Anakin. Whenever you tasted cigarettes, it was impossible not to think of him and the bittersweet moments you shared. After all, he started your bad habit. Once again, your hands shook. Did he ever think about you while you were gone? You were close, but he was also an incredible pain in your ass. And what if he and Padme suddenly got back together? Ahsoka would have told you, right? Maybe.

She would have told you.

The familiar streets of Brookline outstretched before you, energetic and alive, instantly flooding your mind with cheerful memories that brought a grin to your face. Your smile widened across your face as you glanced at the familiar sports bar on the corner, reminiscing about the laughter and friendships you developed during your time as a hostess in high school. You turned the corner at the next light, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as the vibrant lights of the movie theater danced before your eyes, eliciting the sweet nostalgia of your god-awful first kiss. You weren’t expecting little Tommy to stick his tongue down your throat in 7th grade. As you approached Emerson Garden, a bittersweet ache tugged at your heart, memories of laughter and familiarity flooding your mind—the memories it held.

The streetlights flickered as you turned down the most familiar road of all. You bit your lip in anticipation and ignored the urge to light another cigarette right then and there- your mom didn’t need to know about your filthy habit (although she smoked, too). The soft melodies of Radiohead and the laughter echoed from the back porch as you parked in the driveway. Gazing at the house with a smile, you felt a hint of excitement about reclaiming your old room. It had been far too long.

The porch light turned on, and out ran Ahsoka, not even giving you a chance to turn your car off.

“You motherfucker!” She yelled, opening the car door and throwing her arms around you as you laughed, “It’s been so fucking long!”

You looked back at her, pulling the beanie off her head and giggling, “Well, don’t tell the others, but I only came back for you.”

“Shut up,” she stands up, pulling you up with her, “Get your ass inside.” You laugh and salute her, following her through the familiar corridors of your house and into the kitchen.

“Shut the FUCK up. She’s real!” Your mom squealed and quickly set her wine down, embracing you as if you’d be gone in an instant. “Never leave me like that again.” She pulls away and laughs, her tone laced with a hint of seriousness.

“Never.” You promised, smiling wide before your dad caught your attention, tossing you a beer and shooting a wink in your direction. Although he wasn't typically sentimental, you could tell he missed you.

“Where are the boys?” you asked, opening the can and drinking the bitter liquid. “Jesus Christ, Miller Lite never gets better, does it?” You squinted your eyes in disgust, giggling at your own reaction.

“Nope, thought I taught you better than that.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head. “They’re outside with Cliegg and Shmi.”

“Okay, sweet, I’ll go say hello.” You motion towards the back door, catching a glimpse of Ben from the back porch.

“Hey,” He grabs your arm before you can turn to leave. “We missed you. I hope you’re okay. Ahsoka didn’t give us any details, but she said things really went to shit in Hampton. I just want to make sure you know you always have a home here, and we will do what we can to make it better, okay?”

You nodded and smiled before practically running out the back door, forgetting exactly what you were throwing yourself into.

“You fucker, you cheated!” Anakin yells, throwing down his cards as Ben takes a swig of his beer and laughs.

“I’m afraid you just have an awful poker face, Anakin.” He sets his cards down and stands up, turning to face you with a smile. “There she is. About time you graced us with your presence.”

You give a shrug before embracing Ben tightly, fighting back tears welling up in your eyes. You and Ben were close, and you knew that if he found out what happened, it would devastate him. He and Anakin were always there to keep you safe, but you had a distinct sibling connection. He knew you too well, always able to read your thoughts with uncanny accuracy.

“You okay?” He pulled away and whispered, searching your sad eyes.

“Yeah, just tired. Long ass drive. Took the long way this time.” You sniffled, and he nodded in response, letting go and pulling a chair out between Anakin and what you assumed was Ahsoka’s chair. With a quiet thank you on your lips, you raised your beer to your mouth and took a long, satisfying gulp, feeling a gentle buzz settle in.

“So, you’re back.” Anakin avoids eye contact, shuffling the cards before him as Ahsoka stifles a laugh. “Took you long enough.”

“Anakin!” Shmi scolds, noticing how his lips turn into a smirk, “You know he missed you, Y/N. He’s just a sore loser. Ben’s kicked his ass at poker three times now.”

“Ah,” You nod, a grin spreading across your face, “He just doesn’t want to admit he sucks at poker- OW!” You feel a sudden impact as Anakin's foot forcefully meets the top of yours, causing you to shoot a glare in his direction. His eyes remain fixed on the cards, completely disregarding your look, while he bites down on his lip, trying to contain his amusement. "Sore loser indeed," you mutter under her breath, shaking her head in annoyance as you pick up the cards he handed you.

Of course, the hand was awful. You weren’t sure how you’d make it out of this alive. Family poker nights were a tradition started by your parents and the Skywalkers, which you were all quickly introduced to by your 10th birthday. Once you hit double digits, you were old enough to gamble. Ahsoka was always the best, but you had a habit of making a comeback when people least expected it. And you had a great poker face- Anakin did not. Anakin had a habit of wearing every thought and emotion on his sleeve his entire life. Shmi always swore it would be his downfall- as a child, you thought she was just talking about his downfall at poker. But once you got older, you quickly understood.

When you discovered his breakup with Padme, you felt like maybe part of you understood. But you never really knew why they broke up. Everyone just told you, “They were better off as friends,” and that was all you knew. Did you want the real story? Absolutely. But part of you was worried about what he’d tell you. You knew better than to get involved in Anakin’s love life, and deep down, a part of you didn’t want to taint the image you had always had of him in your mind.

“Heard you finally got into MIT,” Anakin breaks the silence and your train of thought as he pushes a couple of chips into the center of the table, “Congratulations, although I’ve never heard of anyone going to MIT for an Archeology degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh.

“There it is.” You giggle as everyone groans, setting their cards down as they fold.

“There’s what?” He shoots you a disapproving glare.

“You’ve never given me a compliment without an insult. Was waiting for it.” You shrug, laying down your cards, “Full house.” Anakin’s jaw drops as you pull all the chips in your direction.

“Shit,” He mutters, setting his cards down and laying his head on the table as he groans loudly in annoyance, “Fucking done with this game.”

“And so are we,” Shmi motions Cliegg to stand, “Love you guys. Have fun. Good to have you back, sweetheart.” Shmi kisses your head as Cliegg ruffles your hair before leaving to say goodnight to your parents.

“Mhm,” you hum, finishing the last of your beer, “and plenty of people go to MIT for archeology. It’s a great school. Besides, it’s about time I joined you all there. And it’s only a 15-minute drive. Speaking of- how’s biochemical engineering going, little one?” With a gentle tap on Ahsoka's knee, she reluctantly tears her gaze away from her phone and responds with an eye roll.

“Fucking awful! I love what I’m studying; the school is incredible- just so much work. I’m so tired. I have time for nothing!” She groans and sinks further into her chair while you, Anakin, and Ben burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Coming from a recent MIT graduate- it doesn’t get any better. Just wait until you get further into your major- Biochemical Engineering is far from easy.” Ben offers her a smile while you and Anakin continue giggling.

“And on that note,” You stand up, shaking your empty can, “I’m getting something stronger than this Miller.”

As you enter the house, a soft purr fills the air as your familiar furry companion, Giz, wraps himself around your legs. You squat down on the floor and feel the warmth of his fur as you pet him, "Missed you, little guy."

“He missed you too.” Your mom leans against the doorway, handing you an obnoxiously full glass of wine. “Had a feeling you came in for this. Are we gonna talk about what happened?”

You sigh, standing up and rubbing your hands on your thighs. “Now’s not really the time or place, Mom. I just got here. The last thing I wanna think about is that.” You grab the glass out of her hand and attempt to turn around before her hand is on your shoulder, pulling you back.

“Not so fast.” You turn around and meet her concerned eyes, your hands feeling more sweaty than they did a minute ago. “Y/N, no one just up and leaves their entire life for the past two years suddenly without something major happening. I know you haven’t told anyone- and I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it- but please, for the love of God, talk to someone. We can all tell something is off. You’re not yourself, honey. We care about you- and we’re concerned. As much as I’m so fucking happy to have you back, I know something bad happened, and I want to be there for you.”

“Mom,” You put your hand on her shoulder, fighting back tears with a smile. “You’re doing enough. I just want to have a good time, focus on being in my dream school, and g-get my life back together, okay?”

“O-okay,” she nods, her voice laced with apprehension as she turns away from you and back into the kitchen, “Pasta on the stove if you want it!”

“Thanks!” you yell, shutting the back door behind you and sighing loudly as you plop back into your chair, earning an eyebrow raise from everyone, “I’m here for an hour and she’s already bugging me.”

“She just loves you, Y/N/N.” Ben tries to reason, and you feel your leg bounce.

“Yeah,” you mumble, fidgeting with the poker chips on the table.

“So,” Anakin leans forward, opening another beer, “You and that guy still together? What was his name.. Harry? James?”

“Nick.” You answer for him, unconsciously biting your lip. “And no, we’re not.” Everyone’s ears suddenly perked up at the confession, the consensus being just how little they knew about your life.

“Damn, what’d you do?” Anakin jokes, searching your face for a smile, only to be met with nothing.

“Ha. Good one.” You chuckle under your breath, your lips forming into a frown.

As soon as Anakin brought up Nick, you lost interest in the conversation. Nick never met the family; you only told them about him over the phone while you were gone. He had always insisted that your life was meant to be in Hampton with him, where you would create something new together. You didn’t need to return home to your family; if you did, you’d be leaving him all alone. Holidays and significant moments came and went, and all the while, you were stuck at a college you loathed, sharing your life with a man you mistakenly believed was the one.

During your nights in Hampton, you and Nick would often find yourselves curled up on the couch, indulging in excessive drinking while he introduced you to various illicit substances. You pretended to enjoy soccer and cocaine, drinking more tequila than you needed. Shot after shot, followed by line after line, you barely knew who you were. He constantly told you how pretty you were, how you were made for him, but if you forgot to run to the liquor store that day, he would treat you as if you were dead to him. Nick offered little in return for your support, except for empty assurances that the life you would build together would make it all worthwhile. Nick's behavior took a downward spiral as he began staying late at work and arriving home in a drunken stupor. From that point on, things spiraled out of control.

And maybe a part of you once loved Nick, but now you felt suffocated in the relationship. And when you tried to bring things up to him, he’d tell you that you were a cheap whore who was only made to be his personal fuck toy. And just like that, the conversation came to an end. The coercion left, and he started to force you to use the drugs he’d use, tell you to skip class, skip tests, skip your job- you were losing yourself within him, and you were worried about the consequences if you didn’t let it happen. He was always a kind, sweet, romantic boy- but he could be so, so evil.

And you’ll never forget the first time he hit you, the sound of his hand connecting with your skin echoing in your ears. As you sat on the counter, the alcohol made your vision blur, and your head throbbed as if it was about to explode. You were already at your limit, and the last thing you wanted was to do was another line. Your nose was already starting to bleed a little, and he begged and begged for you to keep going- telling you he needed it. He didn’t want to do it alone- you had to do it. As you stubbornly declined once more, a sudden, fiery sting seared across your cheek, causing your nose to finally bleed and droplets of blood to stain your thigh. He apologized profusely, waiting on you hand and foot as he cleaned you up, held your hair as you puked, washed you, and still talked you into sex- but it had happened. You knew you needed to leave, or your life could be at stake.

“Y/N?” Ben asks, and you break out of your Nick-induced trance with a sharp gasp, your eyes glossy and lips bloody from your nervous tic.

“I’ll be back.” You stand back up, taking a concerningly long swig from the wine before exiting out the back gate and into the driveway.

“I’m really concerned about her.” Ben watches you leave and bites his lip. Ahsoka nods along with him. “Listen, as happy as I am to have her back, something’s not right. As her brother, I just- I fear the worst. She’s not herself.”

“Did you see the way she reacted when you asked about Nick?” Ahsoka whispered, leaning in to closer to the table, “Something had to have happened.”

“Wait.” Anakin says, as he and Ben both turn to face her, their brows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Ahsoka, you don’t know anything either? She’s your best friend.”

“I- I know nothing. And I hate it.” She confesses to the boys, the air growing thick as Anakin uncomfortably shifts in his seat, and Ben sighs.

“I think I’m gonna try to talk to her.” Anakin stands slowly as Ben raises a brow and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes.

“Anakin, no offense, but I doubt she’ll want to talk to you,” Ahsoka murmured, avoiding his scowl.

“Well,” he pushes the chair behind him, walking towards the gate. “We’ll see!”

Curled up in the Papasan chair on the porch, you lit the joint between your fingers and watched as the lights in your neighbor's windows turned off. Your thoughts drifted from Nick and onto the childhood you missed dearly—so many snowball fights on the street before you, bike rides, and scraped knees. You remember the Johnsons across the street particularly not liking Anakin, so you and Ahsoka egged their house, only to backfire and get Anakin in trouble. You confessed to doing it, and no one believed you. It had to be Anakin. But for some strange reason, he never cared. He accepted the punishment, mowed their yard for a year, and never brought it up to you, no matter how many times you apologized. And every apology that slipped from between your lips was met with a grin.

And that time in 7th grade when Ahsoka really got into it with Julie down the street. She never liked Ahsoka and always found a way to get under her skin. However, this time was particularly awful. When you found Ahsoka, she was sobbing on the corner while Julie laughed at her, calling her pathetic, telling her that even her adopted parents didn’t love her and that her big brother wasn’t there to save her now. But you were. You pushed Julie onto the grass so fucking hard, only for her to get back up and swing. Ahsoka screamed for you to stop, but a newfound rage took over as you pounded into Julie’s face. She ended up on the pavement with a broken nose, and you ended the fight with a fractured wrist and grounded for a month (Only a month because your mom found out who you fought and what she said). Anakin was waiting for Ben to return from tennis and heard the commotion. He ran down the street, finding Ahsoka sobbing, Julie on the pavement, bloody and teary, and you sitting on the corner, shaking and clutching your throbbing wrist in your hand. He instantly asked Ahsoka what happened before making his way to you, holding your wrist, picking you up, and taking you and Ahsoka back to your house. Your mom called Julie’s mom and talked about what happened, and fortunately, Julie confessed to everything. And that’s when you found out her parents were going through a nasty divorce, and Julie was starting therapy. And surprisingly, she actually grew into a really decent, respectable person.

The four of you had always done everything together. You had always been inseparable. And when you left, it tore that apart. You left a hole in Brookline, and you knew it as well as they did. Even though they swore they were happy for you, moving on and doing more, you could see in their eyes that they selfishly did not want you to leave. They didn’t like the years of friendship to be put on hold just like that. And, of course, you felt guilty about it all, but you thought you needed to get out of Brookline. You assumed you wanted something bigger than Boston, bigger than you, bigger than those childhood friends. And two years later, you realize just how naïve you were. Those were your lifelong friends; your life was in Boston, and your dream school was there, too. You missed them more than you could ever envision, and the guilt ate at you every single fucking day. And you wished that 19-year-old you had just stayed. Things would be so much simpler if you had stayed. You let some pathetic man in Hampton tell you that it was just you and him- forever. And you knew deep down your 19-year-old naive self didn’t believe a fucking word he said- she just wished she did.

“Oh, that’s not a cigarette.” Your eyes flicker up from the street and towards a drunken Anakin leaning against the patio rail in front of you. His lips were curled into a mischievous smile, his hair curly and messy.

“No,” You lean forward, handing him the joint, “No, it’s not.”

“So,” He took a quick draw from the joint, flicking it against the deck railing as he looked back at you and smiled, “You just got here, and you’re already running from us? What’s up with that?”

You scoff, snatching the joint from him and leaning back in the chair.

“Just wanted some alone time, is all.” You avoid his gaze, and it’s his turn to scoff, plopping himself next to you in the chair.

“Yeah, because you’ve been so fond of that your entire life. I don’t believe you.”

“And? Never said I cared that you did.” You quickly retorted, earning an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

“Relax,” he said, snatching the joint back from you and holding it hostage. “Talk to me. It’s just us.” His hand met yours; his gaze was intense and empathetic.

You weren’t sure why you wanted to tell him. It was probably the weed mixed with a bit of liquid courage, but in that moment, you needed to get it out. He was so welcoming, holding your hand and offering you the comfort you needed in that moment. Was it pure manipulation? Possibly. But you knew Anakin loved you just as much as you loved him, and you knew you could trust him. He had kept your secrets before, so what’s another one? However, none of those other secrets typically included an abusive relationship; it was mainly about Ben and Ahsoka. You gripped his hand back, watching his eyes soften and his lips curve into a small smile.

“Just-” You started, dropping your voice into a low murmur, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” He looked into your eyes like he would die to protect your secret. That was precisely what you needed to see.

“Nick- uh- sorry,” You sniffled, rubbing your eyes as you searched for the right words. “He- uh- he hurt me—a lot. I barely made it out of that relationship in one piece. I think my breaking point was when I asked him to visit for your grandma’s funeral, and he knocked me out. I woke up in my bathtub, my face covered in my blood, and he was gone. I applied to MIT that morning. The day after I got in, I packed everything I could and left. He’s blocked on everything, and he hasn’t attempted to reach out in any sort of way. Anakin- I don’t know what would have happened to me if I didn’t leave.”

Your eyes met Anakin’s glossy ones as your hands shook underneath his touch. He crooked his head to the side, bringing you in for a much-needed hug. You let yourself cry softly in his arms, feeling his shaky hands rub in slow motions up and down your back, his other hand stroking the top of your scalp.

But when he looked back at you, the softness in his gaze had disappeared. His fists clenched at his side, his eyebrows furrowed as he bit his lip in frustration.

“A-Anakin?”

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell anybody? We would’ve come to help! We could have put that piece of shit in jail by now!” He stands up abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply.

“I-I’m sorry- I-” You stutter, your mind racing as he paces before you. His eyes meet yours, and he points at you as your heartbeat accelerates.

“Y/N, I swear to god- I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. He’s fucking dead. I don’t care what hap-” He stops momentarily, cut off by your sobs from the chair. Fuck. He’s yelling at a domestic violence victim- no- he’s yelling at you. What a fucking asshole.

“HeyHeyHeyHey-” He’s quickly on his knees in front of you, shushing and brushing your hair out of your face, “I’m so fucking sorry- that was so selfish of me to do. I shouldn’t have said or done any of that. You opened up to me, and I yelled at you.. that will never happen again, okay? Why don’t we get you to bed?” He held your hands in his, searching your red eyes for an answer as you quickly nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go say goodnight to everyone, you just hold tight here. Sound good?” You nodded once again, and he giggled. “Words, sweetheart. I need you to say something.”

“That’s what I want, Ani. Bed.” You mumble out, forming your lips into a sad smile. His heart broke at the sight of you.

The second the back gate opened back up, Ben and Ahsoka immediately shot out of their chairs at the sight of Anakin. Their interrupted conversation suddenly had no meaning as he entered, taking a quick seat next to them.

“She’s- uh- she’s pretty upset. And fucked up. I’m gonna take her to bed.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as Ben and Ahsoka looked at him, puzzled.

“Well, what happened? Is she okay? Does she need help?” Ahsoka frantically broke the silence, asking the questions she and Ben were both thinking.

“Listen, she’s in rough shape right now. I’m just gonna get her to sleep, and I’ll tell you guys all about it. I don’t even know if she’s done talking about it. I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N?” He calls out your name as he steps on the other side of the gate, jogging up the front porch to see you passed out in the chair, joint hanging loosely from your fingers.

Amused, he grabs the roach from your fingers and casually tosses it off the porch, letting out a small laugh. Clearly, you didn't waste any time before drifting off to sleep. All the crying and weed must have done something. As he crouches down beside you, he tenderly brushes your hair, his eyes filled with adoration as he looks at your sleeping figure.

“I’m so sorry about everything,” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly, “I know you’re going to hate me for what I’m gonna do. Just please know it’s in your best interest. I care about you so much.” He bites his lip in thought, his eyes searching your figure.

As he rises to his feet, he effortlessly swipes your phone and tucks it away, his eyes briefly glancing at your water bottle. With a tender gesture, he reaches his arms beneath you, drawing you close to his chest and ensuring the blanket envelops you snugly as he lifts you from the chair. Your head is cradled against his chest, his hand wrapped around your waist and under your knees.

Anakin carried you gently up the stairs of your house, each step creaking under the weight of his feet. Passing through the familiar corridors, he reached your bedroom door and pushed it open, immediately being overwhelmed by the alluring scent of your space. As he laid you down on your bed, he couldn't help but notice how little the room had changed since you left, the same photos on the walls and the same worn-out rug. Your mom kept everything intact, probably hoping you’d come back eventually. He filled your water bottle, plugged your phone in, left some medicine on your nightstand, and tucked you in tightly. Just as he turned on the fan and kissed your forehead goodnight, your eyes fluttered open to meet with his, and you gave him a sleepy smile.

“Ani?” You mumbled, watching as his smile grew above you.

“Hey, sweetheart, feeling pretty sleepy, huh?”

“Mhm,” You stretched your arms out momentarily as you yawned. “I’m sorry I dropped all of that on you earlier. And I’m just- I’m sorry about it all. I feel so-”

“Y/N,” He gets on his knees next to you, the warmth in his eyes matching the tender smile on his lips, “You don’t need to apologize for a thing. I’m always here. And so are Ben and Ahsoka. We got you. You take as much time as you need to process, recover, and do whatever you need to, okay? It’s about you, Y/N/N, don’t worry about us.” You giggle and nod at his words, your eyes attempting to flutter shut. He laughs at your exhaustion, ruffling up the hair on your head. “Sleep well, okay? I’ll be here if you need me.”

He closes your door and leans against the door frame, exhaling heavily as he tries to make sense of everything that happened throughout the night. How could someone be so fucking despicable to do this to you? His girl. His fists clenched tightly at his waist, his eyes burning with rage as he vividly imagined the torment you endured. He tried not to let his mind go there. He really did. Resting against your bedroom door, vivid visions of you, covered in blood and pleading for help, overwhelmed him, plunging him into a downward spiral. And in a moment of weakness, he did exactly what he promised he wouldn’t do.

“She was abused. Badly.”

“WHAT?”

Ben and Ahsoka jump from their seats on the porch, rushing towards Anakin as he angrily makes his way from the house onto the deck.

“That fucking piece of shit!” Ben shouts, punching his fist against the side of the house while Ahsoka tries to calm Anakin down, asking him for more details.

“Okay, Anakin, I need you to give me more than just ‘abused.’ I know you have details.” Ahsoka sputtered while she held the sides of his arms, guiding him over to the table to sit down while Ben paced behind them.

“It was that asshole she was dating for the past two years- Nick. The one we conveniently never met, which I’m sure was on purpose. She didn’t tell me much other than that if she didn’t leave when she did, she could’ve- well- she- it just wouldn’t have ended well.”

Anakin's words hung in the air, creating a thick silence that was almost tangible with tension. Anakin's throat tightened as he locked eyes with Ben and Ahsoka, their glossy gazes reflecting their shared pain. Ben found a spot at the table, deep in thought, as he absentmindedly stroked his chin, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Ahsoka carefully finished the last of her wine, the cling! of it ringing out as the glass met the table one last time.

“Well-” Ben tried to start, cut off by his sudden sobs. He pushed his head on the table, covering his face from Ahsoka and Anakin as he attempted to take deep breaths, processing the information he had just learned. In an effort to hold back tears, Anakin bit his lip, his hand trembling as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. As she silently wept, Ahsoka soothingly rubbed Ben's back, hoping to ease his pain.

“I just- I should have known.” She mumbled, picking the cat's hair off of the back of Ben’s sweater.

“There’s no way you could’ve, Snips.”

“It’s just that- I thought it was odd when she suddenly asked me to pick up her cat. Saying she couldn’t take care of him and that it was an emergency. I never even met Nick, and she wouldn’t let me stay at the apartment long. I hardly saw her. So many fucking red flags..” she trailed off, feeling her head hurt at the thought.

“Ahsoka, it’s okay.” Ben sniffled, lifting his head off the table as his red eyes met Anakin’s. “There is no one at fault here other than Nick.”

"Exactly," Anakin paused momentarily at his comment, his eyes widening. “Guys, she made me promise I wouldn’t tell you. Considering everything, I think we should wait until she opens up. Even though it hurts, the last thing I’d want to do is hurt her anymore.”

“Yeah,” Ben whispers, and Ahsoka nods, holding onto each other as they try to calm down.

“We should get to bed, guys. It’s 3:30.” Anakin mumbles as he stands up and stretches, offering his hand to Ahsoka. “We’ll see you soon, Ben. Get some rest.”

As he lay in bed, Anakin’s mind wandered off to you. How could it not? Besides being your best friend, he always looked for more in you. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, and he despised himself because of it. To him, you were his world, his everything. Always. And hearing/seeing how hurt you were? It fucking destroyed him. So, he let himself cry. He allowed himself to feel those emotions for you, and he always had buried them deep down. Instead, he buried his face in his pillow and soaked it with his tears. His admiration for you would never falter, and neither would his protectiveness. He felt as if a part of him failed, and as a result, his guard was down. He felt the desire to love you and keep you safe increased, knowing that getting the chance to do so may destroy him inside and out.

And it didn’t help that you lost your virginities to each other. Sharing such a unique, intimate moment with the person he always knew was the one, well, that just really fucked things. Literally. There wasn't a moment when he wasn't haunted by the memories of that night; it was a constant presence in his mind. And then he got with Padme, and you left for Virginia, and things got so lost and confused, and life moved on. You moved on. He tried to. But he searched for you in everyone and everything. Padme knew it, he knew it, fuck, his mother probably knew it! He’s just thankful Ben doesn’t know it. As much as he hated to say it, Anakin knew he would have gone back in time to do anything to change that moment. Because now you’re here, and his feelings have only intensified. Feelings that should have left a long, long time ago. And yet, as he cried himself to sleep, he continued to dream of you, just like every night before.

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged!

Series tags: @w0rsh1psells @ursogorgeous13 @tommyvelvet @mistress-amidala @queenofnigthdarkness @nikkissecretlibrary @doblasftcisco @ann4zw @catachlysmicjedi @googie-jeon @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo @anakinstwinklebunny

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queenofthekings · 4 months ago

Text

𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮

Summary: Your story of survival in New York, and the promise you made to Eric.

Author’s note: If I get anything wrong about New York, pls don't yell at me I'm just a Brit who's never been and is relying on the movie and my friends for help lmao. Special think you to @littlexdeaths for helping me with this, without you I probably wouldn't have gotten this finished. And if any of you see a reference to The Enemy, no you don't.

CW: 18+, fluff, descriptions of injuries, horror, spoilers for a quiet place day one.

Word count: 1.5k

Tagging: @espressomunson.

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

You’d first met Eric in class, his accent being the first thing you noticed about him. Like him, you’d travelled far to attend law school in New York and both of you would talk frequently after classes about life back home and how different New York was compared to it.

The more you got to know each other, the more romance blossomed between you. He would always wait for you before class and go in with you, sitting beside you just so he could brush his fingers against your hand or whisper something funny into your ear to distract you.

You were expecting him to ask you out on a date, but then the world fell apart.

When it started, you were with a couple of your classmates, just laughing and joking around and then it stopped.

You barely had time to react before something akin to a bomb exploding just down the street caused everyone to start screaming and running all around you. Your lungs and eyes were burning from the smoke, and you could barely see but all you knew was that you needed to run. You had no idea where your friends were, but you hoped they were just hiding somewhere, and you’d see them soon as you darted into a bookstore.

With shaking hands, you got out your phone and dialled Eric’s number, silently praying he’d pick up only it went straight to voicemail. “Eric, it’s me. If you get this, stay where you are; I will come for you, okay? I will come find you. I’m so fucking scared right now, but I hope you’re still out there and you’re safe.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you were too scared to, what if he didn’t feel the same way? God, feelings were hard when the world was ending.

You ended the call and looked around you, trying to find anything of value, picking up a map and a small nightlight you could use as a torch. You weren’t entirely sure where you could go but staying where you were clearly wasn’t an option. Shoving your things into your backpack, you hesitantly walked back out onto the now quiet street, trying your best not to walk on any broken glass or rubble.

Tears began running down your cheeks as you walked, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. You had to come to terms with the idea that you were the only one left; your friends were gone and so was Eric, even if that thought killed you.

As you walked, you wished you could listen to your music to drown out the silence with the occasional bursts of screaming but you knew it was too dangerous, you had to be alert at all times.

As night started to fall, it began pouring with rain and even through your hooded jacket, you were soaked through. You ran towards some shelter as fast as you could, you ended up finding an abandoned church and slipped inside the door as quietly as you could.

Being careful to avoid the puddle from the hole in the roof and the massive hole in the floor, you made your way to one of the pews and finally rested.

Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night, but you managed to get maybe a couple of hours, better than nothing, you supposed.

In the morning, you looked over your map to find the best route to South Street. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew it had to be done, even with the number of blisters you’d gotten on your feet from walking so much the day before.

Sliding off your shoes, you assessed the damage and wondered if you should trek out to find a pharmacy to get some band aids but just as you were about to put your shoes back on, you heard a commotion from the hole in the floor, with two people climbing out of it.

You froze as you slowly made your way over towards them, your heart pounding in your ears as you saw Eric. You couldn’t quite believe your eyes as you got down onto your knees next to Eric’s head, a shaky hand on his shoulder.

His eyes opened and instantly locked with yours, slowly getting up to embrace you, even if he was soaking wet. You tried your best not to cry but after everything you’d both been through, you couldn’t hold your emotions back and neither could he; you both held each other and cried quietly.

Eric refused to let you go, and you refused to let him go – even for a second. You slept together wrapped up in each other’s arms that night, finally getting some decent sleep at last.

In the morning, you could tell Sam wasn’t doing well and both you and Eric offered to go get her medication, Eric refusing to let you go. Reluctantly, you allowed him to go but not without giving him a kiss on his cheek, a silent promise that you’d see each other again.

You stayed with Sam, initially playing tic-tac-toe together but eventually getting to talk about each other’s lives before everything went down. Went to school together, had a massive crush on him you wrote on the notebook, causing both of you to laugh silently.

“He talked about you a couple times,” Sam whispered. “Always wanted to find you, now it makes sense why.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but in your heart you hoped it meant that he felt the same way about you. You kicked yourself for letting him go with just a kiss on the cheek and not a proper love confession, just more reasons to make sure he came back safely with Frodo in tow.

The four of you stayed in the church until the next morning, deciding to venture out to find Patsy’s. You and Eric never let go of each other’s hands, not for a single second.

But when you were out in the open, you’d knocked over an abandoned suitcase, the sound echoing throughout the silent streets. All four of you froze for a moment, before you knew you had to lead the monsters away to give Eric and Sam a chance.

Pressing a kiss to Eric’s lips, you pushed him away and sprinted away in another direction, screaming as much as you could to draw them towards you. It didn’t even fully occur to you that you could die in the process, but as long as Sam, Frodo and Eric made it out, that’s all you cared about.

That was the last time Eric saw you, saving his life. And all he could think about in that moment was how much time he’d wasted not telling you how he felt. And now, you were gone.

By the time Eric got onto the final boat with Frodo, he finally allowed himself to cry, to mourn over the loss of both you and Sam. At least he still had Frodo to comfort him, he closed his eyes and just stopped to listen to the purring cat in his arms until it jumped out of them. His eyes opened instantly, feeling himself on the verge of a panic attack as he looked around for that black and white cat.

Until he saw him at someone’s feet, his eyes filled with tears, clouding his vision but he could tell the person was walking towards him. Wiping away his tears, he got a good look at the person. He blinked several times, not quite believing his eyes.

It was you.

Battered and bruised, a long cut down the left side of your face, but still you.

You smiled once Eric noticed you, the cut across your face contorting a little so it almost looked like a half grimace. You took a seat next to him, handing back Frodo. “Hi,” you said, your voice a little croaky after not being used in what seemed like forever.

“Hey,” he said back, his voice just as croaky. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

You shook your head, petting Frodo. “I was almost a goner,” you pointed to your face. “But I got saved at the last second, I don’t even remember by who. I thought I’d died, but my face hurt too much. Couldn’t even see out of my left eye at first, but I knew I had to get to here.”

“You still look beautiful,” he moved a stray hair away from your face, not even flinching like most people did at seeing your cut.

You pulled a face, letting out a small hiss in pain as you forgot the cut for a moment before you rested your head on his shoulder. “So what happens now?”

Eric sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t know, but one thing I know for sure; I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head once again. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all I want right here; I have you and we have Frodo.”

“Good. Even then, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go,” he whispered, capturing your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

#spilled ink #a quiet place day one #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eric x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction

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silliewrites · 2 months ago

Text

If I could save time in a bottle...

summary: [Platonic Logan Howlett x gn!reader/ famillial dynamics} After the passing of your parent figure some years ago, your friend Wade comes back from a deadly mission with a replica of him. You also soon learn that someone that is definitely not Wade has something to do with the mess that is currently the resting place of that loved one. Finally, you and the ‘worst’ Wolverine find you are on the road to healing together.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: angst and comfort, grief, strong language, brief mention of child death (in worst! Logan's universe), spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine as well as Logan (2017), the bye bye bye scene is treated as grave desecration (which i mean,it is… but reader is naturally gonna see nothing humorous about it)

a/n: This is a bit of a mess because I never write, yet I have so many feelings and thoughts I had to do something with them. Not having seen a platonic fic of this kind anywhere I guess I had to make one. Also..I did some basic research on the general deadpool canon yet..I’m not entirely informed, having not watched deadpool 2… let’s hope for the best

--------------

You used to be the youngest student in the X mansion back in the day, just a child having mutated under life altering circumstances, the usual.

It was Logan who found you. He was your rock during and after the traumatizing event of your mutation, taking you in and placing you in the arms of the X-men and thanks to him they became your family.

You saw him no less than as a father. Despite his brooding, harsh exterior it was never difficult for you to see that he cared.

He never shot you down when you knocked on his door in the middle of the night, sobbing after another brutal nightmare. He took you seriously when you talked about your fears and worries. He saved you and helped you stand on your feet more times than you could count.

Seeing death and bad things happen to your family of mutants always hurt viciously but when Logan died it felt like something you would never get over.

With your abilities generally under control, you chose to avoid actively partaking in X men work (Not that you refused your assistance, if someone called for you specifically. It had better be very urgent though.)

So you tried to find a rhythm of what resembled a normal life for the most part, a decent job and some good friends. That was what he would have wanted, no, said he wanted for you.

You kept ties with Laura too, having bonded over your shared grief, the man having died in her arms after all. She was some years younger than you and you were happy to consider her a good friend, the younger sibling type.

Some years ago she had disappeared, causing you yet another source of anxiety. Turns out she herself had been banished to the Void. The relief you felt when Wade came back from that limbo hell while managing to bring her back too, was immense. You have never hugged anyone tighter than Laura the day you saw her again.

Speaking of Wade, through this and that, you had also become acquaintances. He had needed your assistance when he was forming his X force crew and you had hesitantly accepted, making it clear that this would be an one-time thing.

He seemed to be a "Wolverine fanboy" in his own words which caused him to bombard you with childish questions about him until you very firmly made him aware of your boundaries. There was a time and place to talk about Logan.

When that shitshow was over with, you did not mind him considering you your friend. Sure, he was a bit much for you, not a huge fan of his 'humor' but seeing him in moderation was not unpleasant…Alright, maybe you did enjoy his company and friendship, it was as simple as that.

After a chat with him, you learned that the rent in his apartment building was relatively cheap for New York standards, so when it was time to move out of your previous place, that was where you went.

Then the damn timeline thing happened. You were pretty confused as to how exactly the events played out, not being involved, thankfully. But the crazy fucker did it, he saved the universe from extinction apparently. And not exactly by himself.

Logan was there. Not your Logan but apparently a variant of him was necessary to pull the mission off.

And now that version of him was Wade's roommate. Great. Perfect. Definitely something easy for you to process in the days to come.

--------------

You first saw them after the mission on your way to catch a cab to the airport. It was that time of the trimester when you were to visit him. Bleak yet you longed to see him and speak to him, even if he was resting under the earth.

Wade had the decency to explain everything to you once it was decided that Logan’s variant would be staying. He knew that you never really stopped grieving and you appreciated the warning that basically an almost exact replica of your dead father figure would now roam around your earth.

Almost exact, because according to Wade, this Logan was more of a dick, more crude and erratic, apparently rendered by his extra layers of grief and hatred. Partially understandable but you would not accept that as an excuse if he said something cruel in front of you, you would probably introduce him to your interesting mutative abilities. You let Wade know so that he could warn mr stick-up-his-ass. Wade more than happy to accept, still assured you that with the life or death mission being over, Logan was attempting to be more approachable.

The feelings this new reality brewed in you were..mixed, to say the least.

You made eye contact with Wade from across the street and of course he shot up from the bench he was sitting on, dropping his half eaten sandwich to the ground, moving his arms vigorously in the air, catching not only your attention but any other passerby's.

Even though your stomach turned at having to face the him, you wanted to check up on Wade after all this madness he went through. And on his friend as well, you supposed.

You looked both ways before passing the street and before you knew it, Wade’s arms wrapped around your neck. You patted his back with one hand, unable to help the choking sounds that left you.

“It’s so good to see you, my little honey pumpkin bear!” He squealed excitedly while squeezing the dear life out of you. He really thought he’d never see his friends again, huh.

“Oof, yeah Wade, it’s really nice to see you too, please just-” You broke free of his hold and held an arm’s distance between the two of you. You patted his arm and gave him a small but genuine smile. “Really glad you’re ok. Not that I expected anything le-”

Your words slowly died out when your gaze met Logan’s. He was sitting on the bench observing the interaction silently. He looked just like you remembered him, minus some differences. Well, obviously he was supposed to be the same person yet..he was not.

He looked up at you, brows furrowed while his eyes scanned through your face before flashing with what seemed like recognition (Not that you knew what it was he was seeing) He seemed tense and his mouth gaped before he turned his attention to the ground.

Wade naturally noticed the uncomfortable tension between the two of you and he decided to chime in quickly.

“Ah, yes this is the Wolverine I had to kidnap to help me with the time ripper bullshit and oh boy, did he deliver!”

You kept your eyes on the Variant, forcing yourself into a polite smile (that resembled more of an awkward line) and you extended your hand to him, causing him to lift his gaze at you again.

“Nice to meet you...Logan. Thank you for your help with unscrewing our timeline” You said as pleasantly as you could and he took your hand after a moment of hesitation, shaking it with a gentle firm and a silent nod.

His presence..It made your stomach turn. Feeling the threat of your vision getting watery, you quickly averted your gaze away from the two, as subtle as you could manage.

“I..Wade, m’ sorry, would love to sit a bit more but I have to go-”

“Hey wait, tomorrow we’ll be having a get-together to celebrate the un-fuckery of the universe, a partEy if you will! Everyone will be there, Al will be making that terrible casserole you really like also!”

You gave him a melancholic smile, genuinely sad you would not be able to attend. Logan’s variant was back to looking at the ground.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I won’t make it, I’m afraid. I’m going to the airport right now actually, will be off for the next three days. Gotta see someone..”

“Ooooh” Wade whistled while wiggling his brows “and is that someone maybe a super hot sexy mysterious boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Or theyfriend? Or-”

“Heh, nope. Nothing like that unfortunately.”

“Sure, sure, keep your secrets, you ankle biter, but promise to pass by the apartment once you’re back, we gotta catch up!”

You nodded. “Of course. See you then.”

Two days later you found yourself back in New York in a rush, in front of Wade’s apartment door, ready to invent a way that would actually exterminate him.

--------------

Nothing prepared you for the mess you saw in what was supposed to be Logan’s resting place.

The snow had ceased completely. With a simple look his grave was undug and the makeshift X was missing. When you approached, the little fresh snow that had fallen last night was covering various types of debris. Some type of fight had taken place and someone had collected the bodies in a rush yet they did not bother with what you spotted after closer inspection and some digging with your hands.

Metallic looking appendages…These were…

You looked inside the open grave. The snow had barely covered the remains in there and it was obvious they were not even half of what they were supposed to be.

You suppressed the violent urge to vomit. Someone had taken him out, violated his remains and as if in a haste, threw them back in.

You dug through the snow with bare hands around the grave. A fragment here. A fragment there. The spine. What was left of the cranium. White hot rage.

You called Laura with shaking hands. Offended would be an understatement for how she sounded, as well, unaware of who could have possibly caused this. Why were you even calling her, poor girl was in the void for a while now, what could she possibly do or know?

You hung up with the intention of looking through the situation a bit more and catching her up later.

While trying to stay calm and focusing all your mental energy on collecting, wiping and gently placing the remains back in the hole, it clicked.

Wade.

From the few words you two had exchanged ever since he was back, you gathered he turned every stone to find “a Wolverine” to assist him. Yet you could not imagine what the everloving fuck would he defile your Wolverine’s grave for and what caused him to spread his bones all over like fucking confetti.

You would not stand for this. Just because Wade saved the stupid timeline, he did not automatically become immune to the most extraordinary ass whooping of the century. If he had something to do with this, you would not forgive him easily, if at all

--------------

After taking a deep breath, you rang the bell. Tapping your foot on the ground, you heard some mumbling and shuffling before the door opened.

Wade made a surprised expression that resembled a caricature.

“Sweet baby cakes! You're back already? Come on in, I was just thinking about starting a gossip girl marathon. Again!”

Wade's cheerful expression fell almost immediately when you stayed still for a moment too long, not responding.

Althea did not seem to be home. Good.

Wade's expression morphed into one of concern.

“Pumpkin, is everything-”

“Wade. Guess where I just came back from.”

You took a slow step forward, dropping you backpack to the floor.

“Erm..a male stripclub full of hot babes?”

“North Dakota.”

“Don't you say! Did North Dakota had any good male strip-” He stopped himself before realization hit him. “And..may I ask..what was it you were doing in North-”

“You know very well what.”

Wade put his hands in front of him defensively and closed the door. “Hey Pumpkin, why don't you just sit so that we can-”

“Shut. Up.” You whispered.

“When I got to his grave, someone had completely messed it up. Signs of fighting around. Do you happen to have anything to do with that?” You said in a dangerously low voice, eyes glued on him.

Wade, whose mouth formed into an awkward line, clearly not having a reasonably enough excuse to give you.

“Er, you see, um remember when I was looking for a Logan, well I started my search with the OG, you know, just to make sure he was dead dead and unfortunately he was and um then you see err the TVA showed up and um-”

He stopped when you put your hands on your face, squeezing it while a muffled screech of rage escaped you.

“You motherfucking, with no semblance of decency, insensitive prick. You defiled Logan's remains and used them as a shield, throwing them around like toys? And you have the nerve to come back home and look me in the eye after the fact? To look Laura in the eye? Do you not have any fucking shame? Am I simply an afterthought to you?”

Silence. You could not see through the tears. With shaky hands you pulled out of your pocket a tiny clothed item and you carefully unwrapped the cover to reveal a small metallic fragment.

“You may think everything's a fucking game but that man was my family, and worst part is you know this very damn well! How dare you!”

“You have every right to be angry, just let me-”

You grabbed the first object you could reach, which was a half empty bottle of liquor and threw it across the room, causing it to smash angrily on the wall of the living room. Wade winced slightly before groaning in frustration.

With that, a bedroom shot open and an alarmed Logan variant made an appearance, claws already out.

“What the fuck is hap-”

He stopped in his tracks seeing it was just you. He probably had already heard your yelling earlier yet it did not answer any questions about what was going on.

“What the hell, kid?” he said with a subtle hint of alarm.

You take a step towards him, looking up at his face, paying no mind to his blades that were now retreating back inside. God, how it hurt to stare right into his features. Feeling a wave of nausea, you picked up your bag and turned your back to the two men.

“Wait, can't we just talk about this?” Wade said

“No, you ruined my week enough” You mumbled bitterly before exiting his apartment. Week, more like, year.

--------------

The roof of the building was pretty nice, you always preferred it when you wanted some time to yourself outside the walls of your apartment. You rarely ever saw any other tenant there, especially in the late afternoons.

This is where you found yourself that night, elbows supported on the railing, observing the busy street from above while sipping on bad beer.

How you wished he was there right now. How you wished for one more simple moment with him, where you could just be in his presence once again, chat about nonsense or simply sit in comfortable silence next to him.

What would he think of you as the person you were trying to become? Would he be proud of you?

How you wished he would put his hand on your shoulder comfortingly right now.

You missed him. So much.

A high pitched creak came from the direction of the heavy door behind you, causing you to jump a little and instinctively wipe the fresh tears that you just then realized were running down your face.

“Sorry, kid, did I scare you? They mustn't have oiled this door in fucking ever..” There was Logan, the new one. Whatever entity was reading your thoughts a moment prior must be finding your misery hilarious.

“Hope I’m not bothering you”

“No, no. I don’t own the rooftop..” You mumbled softly, turning your attention back on the street, trying to ignore the feeling of clear tension he brought with him. You swore to God, if he was about to make a crass comment..

He came to stand next to you, mimicking the position of your elbows on the railing. He himself was holding a glass, filled with one most likely alcoholic liquid.

“That asshole told me everything about the grave thing. If I were you, I would have torn him apart.”

“I’m sure you already know this isn’t possible by any means”

Logan huffed. “Oh, believe me, I do. I’ve tried at least three times”

You gave a noncommittal nod, trying not to focus too much the gruff voice you always found so comforting.

“...You know..You existed in my timeline too” He mumbled before gulping a generous sip of his drink.

That made you look up at him, surprised. “I…did?”

“Oh, yes you did. Lively little brat you were.” He said with a laugh you could only describe as melancholic. He said it like it hurt.

“You went through so much for a child. And you did cry quite often ‘cause of it, yet you were still so..” He seized, taking a heavy breath and emptying his glass. “So full of life. A good kid.” The city lights reflecting on his eyes, making it easier for you to see how watery they were.

“I..assume I…”

You were interrupted by another one of those devastating low laughs that made your heart ache.

“Yeah. You were among them. Those fuckers did not even spare a fucking child. I was the one who got you with the X-men and it ended in..” He hissed through his teeth and half closed mouth. He took a moment to collect himself and breathed out.

“I’m so sorry, Logan.” You whispered genuinely. You didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t be, …sorry, didn't mean to make it about myself.”

“You didn’t, really!”

A moment of awkward silence before you decided to share your piece.

“My Logan, er, you..I suppose it’s more or less the same as it was in your world but..you were like a…You were the closest I ever felt to a parent. I grew up because of you and..yeah, when I was around 17, you died.” It was almost funny how much you oversimplified those statements but it was the best you could manage at the given moment.

He nodded, listening intently.

“I’m sure that..If he saw how you grew into who you are today, doing your own thing, in spite of the mutation shit and all…he wouldn’t change a thing about how all these fucking events went down..”

“You..think so?”

He chuckled, giving you a small smile, tired but genuine.

“Hell, I know so.” he said. You could tell. You could tell that he desperately wished this was how the events played out in his own world, with the other you alive and a bright future ahead of them.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure if what you were about to say would be too much for him. Then again, it was him who approached you with this vulnerable conversation.

“For what it's worth I would… they would want you to keep on living. Not forget them, not at all. Just..be. Be a person. Make friends and..live.”

He looked you in the eye for a second, before averting your gaze and looking anywhere but you. This was hard for him. But he was trying.

He patted your back firmly. “Thanks, kid.” It was a very simple thing you told him yet you could not possibly know what it meant to him.

You thought that maybe you got what you wished for. Not exactly and certainly not ideally. But you and this Logan had something in common. Maybe, you could help and comfort each other in a way nobody else possibly could.

“Y’ know..I'm glad you got to stay, Logan.”

A smile. “I'm glad to be here, kiddo.”

A pause.

“How long do you think I should make Wade do my laundry for? Y'know. For retribution?”

“Oh, six months at least, bub..”

You stayed for a couple hours chatting above the restless city, topics including but not limited to work, university and acquaintances.

Your pain was soothed a tiny bit and you hoped Logan's was too. You had a lot of time ahead of you to work on that further, after all.

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine x reader #platonic!reader #logan howlett x reader #worst!wolverine x reader #worst!wolverine #x men

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ellebakers · 2 years ago

Text

☆ Desire | Part one (+18)

Ethan landry x reader.

part II. | part III

Summary : just ethan fucking you against a wall.

Warnings : smut + language + blood. ! SPOILERS FOR SCREAM VI !

it's been a year. a year since richie and amber destroyed your life. a year of waking up every night screaming after having a nightmare. it had to stop.

when your friends asked you to come and live with them in new york a few months ago, you refused. but the more the months passed and the more you felt alone.

that's why a few weeks ago, you called each of them to ask them to put you up until you found a small apartment not far from the university.

"i would like y/n. really, but with tara and quinn, all the rooms are taken." sam told you.

"it doesn't bother me but... you might hear us a lot anika and me, well you know, you might hear us doing certain things." mindy said

there was only one person left. chad.

"no problem gorgeous , I'll arrange the third bedroom for you and you can move in with us whenever you want. ethan is nice, a little shy but nice." your best friend told you.

you were so excited. can't wait to see your friends, but above all can't wait to start a new life far away from woodsboro and especially far away from ghostface.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

it was eight o'clock in the morning, your taxi had just dropped you off in front of chad and ethan's building and you couldn't help but smile. this city is so big that no one is likely to find you. especially not the man in the white mask who haunted your nights.

after taking the elevator to the fourth floor, you took the corridor on your right as your friend had told you and stopped in front of apartment 45.

you raised your arm to knock but before you could move the door slammed open.

" y/n !"

" chad !"

you jumped at the brunette and hugged him, so happy to see your best friend. the boy did not take long to reciprocate the gesture.

"you still smell so good." he exclaimed.

you laughed "you’re still so weird."

he pulled back and lightly pinched your nose "i missed you, little head."

you smiled at him "I missed you too, big head."

he pushed aside to let you into the apartment.

once inside, he took your coat and your bag "is that all you took?" he asked you.

"yeah, i just took some change and some stuff. my parents will send me the rest."

he nodded and put your things on a small bench in the hallway.

"come, let me introduce you to ethan."

you followed him to the kitchen where a boy with curly hair was sitting at the counter. "ethan" hearing his name, the boy looked up. you can't help but notice how cute he was. "this is my best friend y/n." the boy's gaze fell on you for a moment then he quickly looked away. "y/n, this is ethan."

you waved your hand "hi"

"hi" he muttered, then he got up, got his things and walked towards what you assumed was his room.

chad turned to you pursing his lips "he's shy."

you nodded slightly, still confused by what had just happened. as a first meeting you had known better. did you scare him ? maybe he didn't like you. but you had only just met him, it was stupid.

your best friend cleared his throat, bringing you back to reality. " i forgot to tell you, but we're going to sam’s place in twenty minutes."

you widened your eyes "wait what? but i've only just arrived. and i won't be ready in twenty minutes."

he shook his head, raising his shoulders "but yes ! I installed your room, you just have to change, plus the girls don't know you're in town."

you crossed your arms "oh, so for once in your life you managed to keep your mouth shut."

a mischievous smile appeared on chad's face "oh, girls i had dated prefer when my mouth is open, especially between their-"

you cover your ears "shut up, I'm going to change."

he laughed and tickled you as you walked past him. "chad stop"

"ok"

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

after putting on jeans, a tank top and a leather jacket, you tore your hair down and put on some make-up, in ten minutes you were ready.

it was not the case of chad…

you growled when you saw that your friend wasn't ready and was running around looking for a t-shirt.

"seriously chad, put something else on your back it's okay."

"nah nah and nah, it's the t-shirt tara gave me. and besides, don't pretend that you don't like seeing me shirtless."

you rolled your eyes, then what he just said hit you.

"wait. you have a crush on tara!"

chad froze and turned to you "what? nah, it's just that...she gave it to me and...it would be rude not to put it on."'

"of course, I believe you." you smirked and chad gives you the middle finger.

ethan came towards you but moved very far away from you.

okay nice… you thought.

chad yelled which startled you. seeing your reaction he apologized "sorry kitten, I just found my top. come on, let's go, I have to stop and buy some beer, Tara only likes corona."

you smiled shaking your head.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

while chad was in the store, you were in the car with ethan, who still hadn't spoken to you.

a ding caught your attention. a new notification appeared on your phone. it was that damn dating app that mindy told you to install. a certain brian came to send you a picture. you opened it. and the photo of a dick appeared. you growled and blocked him. that was the downside with this kind of app, the guys you met on it only wanted one thing. sex. after turning off your phone, you leaned your head against the glass and sighed.

"you shouldn't be on this kind of app." for the first time that evening, ethan had just spoken to you.

you didn't know what to say, but it could be a good way to strike up a conversation with him. after all, you were going to live with him for a while so you might as well be on good terms.

"yes, I know. i thought i would meet good people, but i only come across perverts."

"you're really pretty. that's what they come for. maybe you should try talking to guys who are less handsome or popular, but who really care about you."

he finds you pretty. the cutest guy you've ever seen thinks you're pretty. you must have dreamed. and his voice. lord, you could kneel before him and do anything he asked just by hearing his voice.

"yeah well. every guy, popular or not, are interested in me until they see my scars and learn who i am. thanks to richie and amber."

you expected ethan to answer you but he kills himself. at the same time, chad got into the car and drove to sam's place.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

"chad! you're late. again." grumbled mindy.

the three girls were busy in the kitchen so they didn't see you come in behind chad.

"i have a body of god, it takes time to take care of it before going out."

"of course." his twin replied.

" i feel like a wave of mockery coming from you mindy. isn't it y/n?"

you approached and saw the three girls turn sharply, shock evident on their faces.

"holy shit." exclaimed sam

tara threw herself into your arms and mindy put down the bottle she was holding so as not to drop it, still in shock. they haven't seen you in months except for facetime.

"it's good to see you." murmured the little brunette who hugged you against her without wanting to let you go.

"it's good to see you too tara."

"okay okay, let go. it's my turn now." mindy exclaimed as she pulled tara away from you.

she cupped your face in her hands "fuck. is it good to be able to touch you." chad opened his mouth to comment but mindy cut him off rolling her eyes "not sexually dumbass."

you laughed and hugged your friend.

after a while she withdrew to make way for sam.

"i missed you." the eldest carpenter told you.

"i missed you too sam."

after a while, two other girls arrived introducing themselves as anika and quinn, after greeting them, you started to eat. it's been a year since you felt so good, surrounded by those you love and safe. your friends had all changed a lot over the past year, you were so proud of them. but something bothered you, like a bad feeling. you shook your head slightly to erase the feeling. after all, you were safe, nothing could happen.

you felt eyes on you. you turned and met ethan's eyes. you smiled at him but he turned his head towards quinn, they exchanged a strange look.

maybe they are a couple.

but they don't act like one. you looked away and focused on what mindy and anika were saying. after a few hours, your eyes began to close. chad was the first to notice.

"do you want us to go home?"

"i'll go home. but you, stay here. i'll walk."

"nah, we're going home too."

you knew he wanted to stay to spend time with tara. but you also knew that he wouldn't let you go home alone. "chad. stay here, i'll be fine, i promise."

as he was going to answer you, ethan cut him off. "i will accompany her."

chad was surprised but accepted. you got up, said goodbye to everyone and left with the brunette.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

the walk to the apartment was quiet and long. why did ethan want to come with you if it was to be cold with you. after a while, you found the courage to ask him the question you were dying to ask.

"did I do something to you ?"

you keep walking, and ethan didn't bother to turn to you when answering. "no, why ?"

"since I arrived you have spoken to me very little. and I have the impression that you don't like me too much."

"i don't know you, that's all. i'm always suspicious of people i don't know."

you didn't realize it, but for a few minutes, you had been following ethan down a dark, deserted alley.

"ok if you say so."

ethan froze, which made you stop. he turned his head in all directions.

"ethan what’s going on ?" you asked him.

he didn't answer you, you were going to ask him the question again, but he threw himself on you and pinned you against the wall behind you, kissing you.

it didn't take you long to respond by sliding your arms around his neck and kissing him. usually, you'll have pushed the boy away and probably slapped him. but ethan, you were really attracted to him. and we're not going to lie to each other, it's been a few months since you've had sex, so you weren't going to say no to a bang. after a while you pull away to catch your breath, he turned his lips to your neck, biting, licking and sucking on it in order to leave some marks. you moan when he finds your sensitive spot.

"ethan, someone might see us."

"i don't give a fuck."

you were ashamed to admit it, but hearing him talk like that made you wet.

"then fuck me."

he smiled against your neck "it was planned."

he pushed himself away from you, sliding his hands down your body until he was waiting for your jeans. he unbuttoned it and slid it off you, leaving your legs exposed in an alley. he knelt in front of you, knowing what he was going to do, you held your breath. he took the strip of your panties between his fingers and tore it. you were about to complain but ethan buried his head between your legs and took your pussy in his mouth. you moaned loudly and ran your hand through his hair.

"fuck, ethan."

you had a lot of guys who had went down on you. but ethan, fuck, it's like he's been doing this his whole life. between his tongue and his lips, you thought you were dying of pleasure. the more he penetrated you with his tongue, the louder you moaned. after a few minutes, the pleasure was too intense and you cum against his lips. he stood up as you caught your breath. he licked his lips "you taste so good."

"fuck me."

he smiled at you and lowered his pants to his knees, his boxers were the second to be lowered.

his dick was big and hard you didn't think it was going to fit but ethan grabbed your jaw between his fingers and made you look at him "it'll be fine." you nodded and he kissed you again. ethan took your left leg and put it against his hip. he spat into his hand and pumped himself a little before putting his cock towards your entrance. and in one movement he penetrated you, which made you moan and close your eyes. he didn't move, he took your other leg and lifted it, which allowed him to sink even more inside you. "fuck you’re so tight." he started his movements, slowly, pressing you more against the wall. you were still sensitive, which made you cry with pleasure at each thrust. "ethan, i'm close." he put his hand around your neck and squeezed lightly. his dominating side excited you even more and made you moan pornographic. the more he squeezed and the more you moaned, after a while you felt your second orgasm coming. "ethan, I'll-" you didn't have time to finish your sentence. an orgasm washed over you, making you moan and roll your eyes. ethan kept moving, and you knew he was going to cum, you nibbled on his earlobe "go ahead, cum inside me." that's all he needed to end up in you. he leaned his forehead against yours and caught his breath.

with one hand he pulled up his boxers and his pants. he lowered you to the ground, but his other hand still remained around your neck. "ethan you can take your hand off."

suddenly he looked up and smiled at you, and his hand squeezed more and more around your neck, making you gasp for air. "ethan" you were trying to beg him to stop but he kept going. he passed his other hand behind his back, you hadn't seen what he had taken, but you felt it. it was a knife.

a knife he stuck in your stomach, you tried to scream, but ethan stopped you. he raised the knife higher and higher. you felt yourself dying little by little. he dropped you to the ground and watched you bleed out. after your last breath. he took his phone and called chad.

"chad, oh my god that's horrible. we got attacked by ghostface. y/n, she's dead."

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion x reader #jack champion #jack champion x y/n #scream vi

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doraminatook · 4 months ago

Text

We're About To Get Playfully Blasphemous Here (or...The Metaphorical Death and Resurrection of Me)

2023 was the year I turned 33, and in case you didn’t know, many religious scholars cite that as the age Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead. Now, within literature there’s a trope called the Christ-like figure in which a character sacrifices themself and from that death, something happens in order to advance the plot. Usually that something is either the “dead” character rising from the ashes and obtaining new powers (think Gandalf the Grey battling the Balrog and then coming back as Gandalf the White) or the protagonist being so moved by the death of this secondary character that they are reborn in some way (think Red Badge of Courage’s Jim Conklin (JC…get it?) whose death changes Henry’s opinion on war.)

Because I’m a storyteller and have a dark sense of humor, I began to wonder if I would somehow have a Christ-like-figure-moment within my thirty-third year of life. (Not long after my birthday, I told my mom that I just had to make it to 34 and then I would have “beaten” Jesus; being a good Lutheran woman, she did not appreciate this joke.)

Now, I may be reaching or forcing figurative imagery into the literal world (isn’t that what artists do?), but I think I did have a “death” and consequential “resurrection”.

I’m at a strange place in my writing career in that I am not famous (by any means) but I’m also not considered emerging. Recently, I was told by a theater that I should “sit this contest out” and give someone else a chance but at the same time my work has not been produced enough to catch an agent’s eye. (It doesn’t help that theatre companies have an intense fixation on world premieres. They want to be the first one to do the show, apparently assuming that as soon as a piece gets produced once, that means it’s finished. But that’s a rant for another day.)

Currently I live in Milwaukee and for a long time I thought (or at least hoped) that I could maybe just make it work here; it is technically a theater town. Add to that the fact that my whole family lives in Wisconsin, my financial situation was not ideal, and my best friend (platonic soulmate) had made it fairly clear to me that she did not wish to move away from Milwaukee. When I was honest with myself, I knew that I wanted to get out, but there were so many things holding me back from making the jump.

As soon as the thought of moving away entered my head, Anxiety would perk up. Always eager to be the backseat driver, it would shout things like, “Isn’t life here good enough for you? You’ve got a roof over your head, a job that allows you to pursue your passion, and you’re perfectly healthy. Be grateful for what you have and stop expecting something more!”

I attended a workshop for other playwrights from the area and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I didn’t have a lot in common with many of them. Discussions and questions whirled around about how we find time to write, where we get inspiration, and how we format a script properly. Some of the writers present had never even finished a full script. I certainly am not bringing this up in order to shame anyone, but it was an eye-opening experience for me. Was I a proverbial big fish in a little pond?

My anxiety had an opinion for that, too.

“Wow! Way to be egotistical, D! You think you’re so much better than everyone here? Get over yourself! You’re not special. You’re just another ‘artist’ who thinks they’ve got something special to say!”

A few weeks later I was at my cousin’s wedding and after the ceremony, he approached me to offer congratulations for all the success I’ve had…only to then immediately cut me off guard with the question, “So when are you moving to New York?” As the groom, he was quickly called away for photographs and I never really got to answer his question.

If this moment had been in a play, the spotlight would have hit me right then and there and I would have begun some contemplative soliloquy where I openly pondered, “New York, eh? Maybe I should go to New York!”

Obviously, as a theatre person, the idea of moving to New York had crossed my mind; it’s the theatre capital of the US for obvious reasons. But, at the same time, New York just didn’t feel like me. (I have a lot of opinions on NYC, especially when it comes to the outrageous ticket prices. When it costs a small fortune to see a Broadway show, art becomes a luxury rather than a necessity. But that’s a rant for another day.) It certainly seemed daunting, and every good dream should be at least a little daunting. But New York was daunting without being exciting. It felt like something I should do…something that was expected of me.

LA didn’t do it for me, either. Nor Seattle. I considered many locations, but nothing really made me sit up and take notice. I wasn’t about to dive headfirst into debt and throw away a good thing unless it was something that truly excited me…something that was enticing enough to spark a change.

Again, Anxiety spoke up, “Calm the fuck down, D! New York? Even if that is what you wanted, they’d eat you alive there! You’re a soft midwestern girl who can’t take criticism and cries at the drop of a hat! You really think you could handle New York or LA? Also, the cost of living in any of those places is way more than you will ever hope to make! Stick with Submission Helper. Stick with the contests and the festivals. Go back to dreaming only as big as The Milwaukee Repertory Theatre. Sit down and shut up!”

It may have gone on like this…if not for the summer of 2023.

Close your eyes and picture it: WGA strike, Barbenheimer, The Eras Tour, OceanGate, the Grimace Birthday shake…and in the midst of it all, I was having an epiphany.

A favorite television show of mine dropped its latest season and I eagerly pulled out the Chardonnay and the popcorn to binge it all. The vast majority of the show takes place in London and features several actors whom I admire greatly. Between the giggles, sobs, and various twists and turns of the emotional rollercoaster that was Season 2, something all at once occurred to me.

This is what I want.

That’s where I want to be.

I want to move to the United Kingdom.

Was it daunting? Hell yeah, it was daunting.

And it was exciting.

It was a dream that excited me.

It burned inside me.

It raged.

It burned so hot that I didn’t know what to do with it. I paced around my tiny apartment, simply stunned by the prospect of it all.

Anxiety was in the process of drinking a quad shot espresso con panna and promptly did a spit take upon hearing this new idea. In a frenzied panic, it bellowed, “Are you nuts? What the hell do you think you’re doing? YOU can’t move to the UK! It would be so difficult! You’d need to apply for a Visa…or something like that! Do you even know how to apply for a Visa!”

“No,” I metaphorically replied, “but I could learn.”

“I bet it’s super difficult!” Anxiety shot back, trembling in fear, “I bet it’s expensive and complicated and you’ll never figure it out! I bet your sense of humor wouldn’t translate! I bet you’d end up broke and living under a bridge and crying because you threw away this good thing you had!”

For a split second, Anxiety almost won…but somehow, prompted by the promise of this new dream, I dared to ask, “But what if it worked out? What if I could figure it out? What if I somehow scraped up the money and did the research and filed the paperwork and just made it work?”

If it were a play, I would have been standing center stage, staring out into the audience like some kind of dramatic hero and whispering hopefully, “Yes…what if…?”

It has been a long road to get here, but, despite what Anxiety likes to tell me, I did figure it out. The process has been stressful enough to induce atypical Shingles and a few anxiety attacks, but it’s happening. It’s actually happening!

This October I’m going to grad school at the University of Essex where I’ll pursue my masters degree in Scriptwriting. I’ll hone my skills as a playwright while learning the ins and out of writing for film, television, and radio. I’ll take the train into London on the weekends and see every show I can at the National Theatre. I’ll get new life experiences. I’ll do my best to explore every inch of that beautiful island. I’m going to do something new because it’s scary and, most importantly, it’s exciting.

(To add to the awesomeness of this new adventure, my best friend (platonic soul mate) is moving with me and pursuing her own dreams of studying acting…also at the University of Essex.)

My “death” was not as dramatic or world-changing as Jesus’s, but it gave way to a new life for me. The power of storytelling combined with a newfound confidence was enough to catapult me into something new, something different.

And I know you’re wondering what show I was watching that prompted this sudden change; if you know anything about me, you’ve probably guessed it already.

Along with seeing as much theatre as I can on my visits to London, I also plan to have surreptitious meetings at The Bandstand, feed ducks some frozen peas at St. James’s Park, and maybe help avert an apocalypse (or two). My birthday is in January and it just so happens that Season 3 is scheduled to begin filming around that time; perhaps on my winter holiday, I’ll put myself onto a train and take myself up to Edinburgh. I have so many thoughts on what could possibly happen next to my favorite angel and demon…but that’s a rant for another day.

(Fun fact: I say this line at least once a week...if only to myself.)

#writers on tumblr #female writers #good omens #dreams come true #hopefully #I write blogs now #University of essex #london #united kingdom #anxiety #creative writing #playwrights #playwright #playwrights of tumblr #mental illness #david tennant #michael sheen #neil gaiman #terry pratchett

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