#you see your own heartbreak in their face and you try so hard to save them because its saving yourself in a sense.

[martyrbat]

grimm – batman: legends of the dark knight #149

[ID: a panel sequence of young Dick Grayson just two months after his parents' murders. He's sulking at the dining table in the grandiose Wayne Manor. The dinner is taking place in front of a lit fireplace that causes the entire room to have a soft, bronze glow to it. The table itself is long and decorated and Bruce Wayne is sitting on the opposite end of it. Alfred Pennyworth prompts, “More mashed potatoes, Master Dick—?” But Dick is too busy thinking about a young criminal he ran into when he snuck out earlier. He quietly mutters the taunt she told him, “‘Spoiled brat in a circus suit’—?” Alfred asks, “Was that a yes or a no?” The pouting child brusquely tells him, ”no,” which causes the butler to clear his throat. Dick begrudgingly corrects himself, “No thank you, Alfred.” Alfred responds, “As you wish, Master Dick.”

But Dick is already uttering another taunt under his breath, “‘Lap of luxury’!” Bruce leans forward slightly and asks if everything is okay but Dick dismisses his concern. He excuses, “I'm... I'm not very hungry, Bruce. Is it okay if I go to my room?” Despite his obvious qualms, Bruce awkwardly smiles and replies, “Uh... Of course. Certainly.” Dick gets up as Alfred tells him the food will be in the refrigerator if he gets hungry later but Dick just ‘uh-huh’s him as he walks away. With the child upstairs, Bruce immediately stands up and paces. He stops in front of the fireplace and stares into the blaze as he monologues his worries, “Maybe this was a mistake. What in the world made me think I could raise a boy? I don't know the first thing about it! I've always been a loner! I don't have the knowledge... or the disposition... to make this work.” Alfred wryly asks, “Are you addressing the fireplace, Sir—or me?” But Bruce stresses his demur without looking at him, “His parents are dead, Alfred! What gives me the temerity to believe I can replace them in his life?”

Alfred solemnly reassures, “I asked myself the same questions once. What in the world did a butler know about raising a young man who'd just lost the two people he loved most in the world? But strangely enough, Sir—I adapted. I learned. I learned because I wanted to... Because I cared. And... despite some difficulties along the way—I think the young man in question turned out splendidly. And I think Master Dick will too.” Bruce doesn't say anything but he his eyes closed in thought as Alfred talks before looking at him with a soft smile. He straightens his posture when Alfred finishes and puts his hand on his shoulder, silently grateful for the man's fatherly reassurance and support once again. END ID]

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Hoshina knew better than to get romantically involved with a subordinate, but he sees you in a different light, the object of his desires.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Soshiro Hoshina (Kaiju No. 8)

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.4 k

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Reader. (SMUT). 𝖈𝖜: oral (fem receiving), minor impact play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, fingering.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: This is a very late submission for the pixel-cafe's "Challenge Friday", and this challenge was music-themed! *ahem* shameless plug just in case anyone was thinking of joining. *ahem*. I had so much fun with this, I lucked out with one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite artists. So naturally I had to use it to try out a new character from a new fandom I'm so in love with him someone save me. Anywhosies, I hope you enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊, 𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊. 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖘𝖍𝖊,𝖘 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖊𝖉.

He knew he shouldn’t, knew that in this line of work romance should be off the table. Knew that at any moment either of you could killed in the line of duty. Feelings in your profession were thoughtless, illogical, and just downright stupid. Why would he put his heart into someone he could lose at any moment? Why would he jeopardize your heart in the event he was the one to meet his end. The idea of losing you alone already had a painful pinch blossoming in his chest, he knew he should stop this, but even he knew it was too late. Knew you both were long past the point, even if a heartbreak was temporary, you both cared for each other too much. Even if separated you both cared for each other too much to not be shattered by the loss of the other.

But those thoughts are quickly shoved to the wayside, thoughts like that had no room in his head, not when he felt your body on his. Not when the both of you snuck out of your rooms in the dead of night. Not when he shut the door to the library with your back, his mouth finding yours hungrily in a desperate kiss. And certainly not when he let out an arms to swipe the contents of a table, uncaring of the clatter of books falling to the ground. Pushing you to lay against the cool wood, hiking your thighs around his waist.

“So fucking beautiful.” His words are muffled against your lips, breathless, barely getting them out before he's claiming your lips once more. The kiss was a mess of tongues and clashing teeth, the both of you unfathomably filled with need. A magnetic pull drew you to each other, unable to be separated until you were both satiated. His lips trailed down the side of your face to your neck. Open-mouthed kisses left in their wake, sharp canines finally sinking into your tender flesh. He hadn’t realized how hard he had bitten down, not until the metallic taste filled his taste buds. His wet muscle swiping against your skin, a tender kiss almost an apology against the afflicted area. But he couldn’t deny the knowledge that he had left his mark on you didn’t send blood rushing to his cock. The thought of anyone who was suspicious that you were taken would now have confirmation.

“Fuck kitten, I need you.” His own voice sounded foreign to his own ears, the need-filled husk making it sound octaves deeper. Hands tugged desperately at each other’s clothing, the overwhelming need to feel each others skin was all-consuming. He needed a taste of you, his mouth going dry with the need to taste you on his tongue. He was grateful you had forgone sleep pants, clad only in an oversized tshirt, one that made it oh so easy to slide your panties down your thighs. He gripped the damp material, unable to stop himself from pressing the fabric to his nose. Eyes locked on yours as he inhaled, relishing in the way you looked away from him in embarrassment, your cheeks darkening with a flush. He lets out a long drawn-out sigh, pocketing the article of clothing for later. “God, kitten, smell so fucking good. Let's see if you taste even better yeah?”

His hand trails down your body, long fingers sliding between your folds, collecting your arousal. His lips leave yours, parting only to whisper “You’re this wet already? Is this for me, kitten?” He purrs needing to hear you say it. His eyes nearly roll back in his head as a delicious whine fills his ears. “Its for you Shiro, all for you.” Those words pull a malicious smirk onto his features, his other hand coming down against the plush skin of your ass in a harsh slap, his lips swallowing the gasp you let slip at the impact. Seizing this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth once more.

𝕴’𝖒 𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖚𝖕 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖎𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊. 𝕴 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖉𝖎𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖇𝖏𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊.

His fingers glided against your clit, easily with the aid of your own slick arousal, rubbing tight circles before letting a finger slip past your entrance. Your warm velvety walls sucking in his finger, hugging the digit as if begging for more. He slides in another finger with ease, pulling from the kiss as he dropped to his knees before you. His eyes locked to where his fingers disappeared inside you, his heart racing in his chest. He leans back, admiring you being so exposed for him, hand pulling his fingers from your core, rearing back to slap your exposed cunt. You cry out, pain immediately being replaced with pleasure as he dives down, burying this face into your folds.

His nose bumps your clit as his tongue invades your entrance, curling inside you. He collects your juices on the wet muscle, withdrawing from inside you he pushes himself up. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, allowing your juices, mixed with his own saliva, to drip down on your neglected clit. You whine, the warmth contrasting to the cold of the room. You’re shaking, trying to hold the position he’s placed you in. “Shiro, please!” You cry, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. “What does my pretty kitten need, hmm?” he hums, lips curled into a malicious smirk “You know you need to use your words and ask your vice captain how he can service you angel.”

“Please Shiro need more, fingers, please fuck me with your fingers vice captain!” You cried out, voice laced with desperation, hips wiggling wantonly in search of any kind of friction to your throbbing clit. He grinned, pulling away to bite harshly on your thigh, his title moaned from your lips did something to him. “Now how could I say no to such a pretty request?” He coos before plunging two fingers back inside your cunt. His lips attach themselves to your clit, lapping at the sensitive bud, nipping occasionally as he eats your pussy with a deep seeded hunger. The way your walls clamped down on his fingers as they pumped inside of you let him know you were reaching your first orgasm of the evening. He curls the digits, focusing on that spongey spot that has your vision going white. His words spoken against your pussy as he speaks. “Go on kitten, cum for me, cum for your vice captain.”

His words are the anchor that sent you plummeting to your release, the coil tightening in the depths of your stomach, moments from snapping. “Shiro, please, fuck fuck fuck!” You can feel his lips curl into a grin against you, other hand coming up to pin your hips to the cool wood of the table. His fingers work in tandem with his tongue, the cold of his fingers perfectly contrasting with the warmth of his mouth. You were thrown over the edge, walls suffocating his digits as they spasmed around his fingers. Your hips bucking desperately against his face as you rode out your orgasm.

Coming down from your high, you catch your breath, your chest rising and falling heavily as he stands to his feet. Hoshina slips his fingers from inside of you, cradling your still-shaking form to his chest, running his fingers through your hair in a soothing gesture. Only to lean down, lips brushing the shell of your ear to whisper. “Well now that we’ve gotten our warmup all done, you ready for the main event kitten?” the fingers of his free hand deftly freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. Quick to rub the head of his cock against your clit a few times before moving down to probe your entrance. Sure, rational thought would tell him that getting involved with you was a mistake. But, as he watched you writhe beneath him, looking up at him desperately through your lashes he couldn’t determine if you were born in hell or heaven-sent, but either way he was into it.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune. Character banner and writing by me. Tagging @pixelcafe-network.

[puffins-muffins]

Control - The Attraction

Pairing: Jax Teller (AU-ish) x FemaleLawyer!Reader Word Count: ~10,370 Summary: Back in Charming, your return to TM and SAMCRO leaves you feeling a complex mix of nostalgia and anxiety. As Jax's trial approaches, you face mounting pressure from a relentless prosecution and your growing feelings for Jax complicate your focus. Warnings: 18+ only please, cursing, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack. Brief mention of character death(s), Jax (he's his own warning).

A/N: Ommmmgggg you guyyys!! I am blown away by all the love and support for this story! This one was an emotional rollercoaster. It kiiiinnd of got away from me, but with reader back in Charming now, there was a lot that needed to be explored. Feedback always appreciated. Beta'd by myself, all mistakes are my own. Please enjoy it as much as I do!! Part 3, here we go! 💜

Part 1 | Part 2

Sitting at the old diner, the one you and your dad used to frequent for dinners, you stared down at your untouched coffee, the bitter scent rising into the air, tightening the knot that had taken residence in your stomach. You had sworn to yourself years ago that you wouldn’t get pulled back into this world, into the familiar emotional storms. Yet, here you were, back in Charming, with Jax only a few miles away—and that ironclad resolve you once had was starting to fracture.

Your conversation from the interrogation room replayed relentlessly in your mind, Jax’s words as sharp now as when he first said them. “Maybe you’re afraid you’re not over me.” He looked right through you, cutting past your defenses. He had seen the truth in you, that you hadn’t really moved on. Not completely. With one look, he knew it.

You hated that he could still read you so easily, that after all these years apart, he still knew exactly which buttons to press. It was maddening, that sense of vulnerability. You were supposed to be stronger now. Smarter. But being around Jax, it felt like every wall you had built came crumbling down the moment you walked into that room. The way he looked at you—like no time had passed at all—made it impossible to pretend that you didn’t feel the same pull. 

Seeing him again brought it all rushing back. The way he used to look at you, the way he made you feel like the world outside didn’t exist when you were together. How he’d made you feel seen and understood, in a way no one else ever had. You spent years trying to fill that void, tried to find that connection with others, but it had never been the same. No one had never been Jax.

You sighed, rubbing your temples, the weight of it all pressing down on you. What was it about him that made it so hard to let go? After everything, after all the pain, the heartbreak, why did being near him still make you feel like you were tethered to him in some unbreakable way?

A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts, warm and gravelly with a hint of surprise. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You glanced up, finding Wayne Unser standing a few feet away, his worn face cracking into a smile. The knot in your stomach eased, replaced by a wave of nostalgia. You stood, offering a hug that he accepted warmly. “Chief! It’s so good to see you.”

He chuckled as he pulled back, shaking his head. “Ain’t the Chief anymore, darlin’. Haven’t been for some time now.”

You smiled, gesturing toward the empty seat at your table. “You’ll always be the Chief to me,” you said fondly.

He nodded, settling into the chair across from you. There was something comforting about having him here, someone who had always been in your corner and witnessed your life intersect with the club’s chaos.

“I was hoping we’d run into each other while I’m in town.” you said, your tone soft as you folded your hands on the table. “You really saved my ass with that character letter.” 

Unser waved it off, his smile fading as he leaned back in the chair. “Would’ve done a lot more if I could’ve. Jax may be in deep, but I’ve known that boy since he was runnin’ around on his tricycle. He’s a good man, even if he’s gotten himself tangled in a mess.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the conversation shift. Unser had always seen the good in Jax, even when others didn’t. And that loyalty was something you admired, but it also made you wonder how much of Jax’s actions over the years Wayne had turned a blind eye to, how much he excused for the sake of it.

“Jax’s world has gotten a lot more complicated,” you said carefully, not wanting to betray the growing unease you felt about the case. “But I think he’s still the same underneath all of it. I just hope I can do enough to get him out of this.”

Unser gave you a long, knowing look, his eyes scanning your face like he was searching for something. “I can tell this ain’t just about the case for you,” he said, voice low but steady. “I remember how you two used to look at each other. It was you and Jax against the world for a while there.” 

You glanced down, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could respond, Unser continued, his tone softer now. “You know I care about Jax. Always have. And I care about you too. I ain’t tryin’ to meddle, but you gotta be careful. That world, it takes more than it gives. And once it gets its hooks in you, it’s hard to break free.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you found yourself nodding slowly, the truth of what he said sinking in. But you had always known that. You experienced first-hand the toll the club took on people, felt how it could consume everything. 

“I know,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I always promised myself I wouldn’t get pulled back in.”

Unser smiled gently, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Sometimes life has a way of draggin’ us back to the shit we swore we’d never return to. You just gotta make sure it’s what you really want.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “I’m only here to keep him out of prison,” you said, and though you meant it, you could hear the uncertainty in your own voice.

Unser didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a slow nod, his gaze softening with understanding. “Just remember, there’s always a choice, even when it doesn’t feel like it. And I’m around to help anyway I can.” 

You offered him a grateful smile. Wayne Unser had always been more than just the town’s chief of police—he had been a guiding presence, a steady hand amid the disorder. And now, even though his health was failing and his role in Charming had changed, he still had that same calming influence.

“Thank you, Chief,” you said sincerely. 

He reached across the table, patting your hand gently. “You’re gonna be alright, darlin’. And your Daddy’d be real proud of you. Just keep your head on straight and don’t let that boy take you down with him.”

His words about your dad hit you harder than you anticipated. A familiar ache of loss surged in your chest, and you swallowed thickly, managing a small smile. If he were here, he would be proud of you; he lived and died by this club, loyal to SAMCRO until the bitter end. In ways you hadn’t fully comprehended yet, that loyalty ran deep within you as well. 

For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe you could navigate this, maybe you could keep the line between personal and professional from blurring. But as Unser stood to leave, his words stayed with you, lingering in your mind after he’d walked out the door.

You sat there a while longer, staring at your coffee, knowing that soon enough, you’d have to face the inevitable—Jax, the case, and everything that came with it.

That evening, you sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, your laptop balanced on a stack of case files, the screen glowing in the dimly lit room. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence as you stared at the notes scattered around you, taking a deep breath before unmuting the conference call.

“Alright, Liz,” you said, your voice steady despite the mental whirlwind of information you were trying to process. “Let’s go over what you’ve found so far.”

Liz’s voice crackled through the line, sharp and focused, though you could hear the exhaustion creeping in. You both had been burning the candle at both ends. “First off, the witnesses—they’re falling apart. Like I mentioned earlier, one of them wasn’t even in town on the night of the murder. And the other? He’s changed his story three times now. The prosecution’s trying to hold them together with duct tape and hope.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you jotted down notes, but the situation was far from funny. “Good, we’ll shred them on cross. What about the arresting officer? Connolly?”

Liz’s tone shifted, growing more intense. “Connolly’s dirty. Filthy, actually. I tracked down a couple of large deposits made into his account, way beyond his salary. The timing of one deposit matches up almost perfectly with Jax’s arrest.”

Your breath hitched for a second, your pen pausing mid-note. “So he’s being paid off,” you muttered, processing. “We just need to find out who’s pulling his strings.”

“That’s where things get murky,” Liz replied, her voice lowering. “I’ve got leads tying him to a rival MC, but nothing concrete yet. It’s more like whispers. Still digging.”

The mention of the rival MC made your pulse quicken. This wasn’t just a murder case—it was layered with club politics and buried secrets. “If we can prove Connolly’s connection, it could blow the prosecution’s case wide open. Anything on the murder weapon?”

“No sign of it,” Liz said, frustration seeping into her voice. “The cops don’t have it, and no one’s talking.”

You leaned back against the headboard, tapping a pen against your knee as you reviewed your strategy. “We hit them where they’re weakest. Discredit the witnesses—tear their timelines apart. Then expose Connolly’s dirty money and ties to the rival MC. If we paint him as corrupt, we cast enough doubt to cripple their case.”

It was a solid plan, but your mind wasn’t entirely on it. Jax lingered in your thoughts, you hadn’t seen him since you dropped him off at TM, just a few exchanged texts. You knew you were avoiding him—avoiding the way his presence stirred up old feelings.

The case was slipping into something bigger, and you couldn't afford distractions. But no matter how hard you tried, Jax was always there, just under your skin, pulling you closer, and threatening to unravel everything.

Your phone buzzed, jolting you from your thoughts. It was Jax. It was as if he knew he was consuming your mind.

“Heard you’re back in Charming… avoiding me?”

Your stomach tightened. You’d forgotten just how small Charming was—news traveled fast, especially when it involved Jax. A mix of irritation and anxiety settled in as you realized that even without him realizing it, he was forcing you to face everything you’d been trying to avoid. Each moment brought you closer to the inevitable, and despite your best efforts to stay distant, you knew you couldn’t escape it forever.

You stared at the blinking cursor on your phone, but the weight of everything felt overwhelming. Not just Jax—the entire case. Connolly, the witnesses, the unexplained deposits. Something felt wrong. You couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was at play, something corrupt and insidious threading through the heart of this case. But whatever it was, it would all have to wait. First, you had to deal with Jax.

“Everything okay?” Liz’s voice cut through your haze, snapping you back to the present.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your grip on the phone. “Yeah, just a text from Jax. He knows I’m in town.”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear Liz’s raised eyebrow. “Wow, his ears must’ve been burning. You’ve been avoiding him, haven’t you?”

You let out a short, hollow laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve been busy with prep, but... it’s more than that.” You pushed yourself off the bed, pacing the room. “The truth is, seeing him again after all this time... it stirs up shit I’ve tried to move past. But I know I can’t keep dodging it forever.”

Liz didn’t press further, always knowing when to hold back. “You’ll handle it. You always do.”

You sat back down on the bed, staring at Jax’s message again. “It’s just… TM, this place, it’s like stepping into a time capsule. It holds all the memories from when everything was simpler. When things weren’t so... complicated.”

Liz was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “Do you think he’s changed? Jax, I mean.”

Her question hit deeper than you expected. You’d been avoiding that thought too. From the few moments you’d shared recently, it was clear that life had weighed heavily on him. The charm was still there, but beneath it was a hardness, a fatigue you hadn’t seen before. And yet, the pull between you, the familiarity of him—it was still there, almost as if no time had passed at all.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “Maybe he has, maybe he hasn’t. Part of me thinks he has. The other part knows better.”

Liz was quiet for a beat. “Well, if anyone can navigate this, it’s you. Just… don’t lose yourself in the process.”

You swallowed hard, her words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “I won’t,” you said, more to reassure yourself than to convince her. “Thanks, Liz. You’ve done great work so far. Just promise me you’ll be extra careful. The people we’re looking into are dangerous.”

“Absolutely,” Liz replied, her tone serious. “Just remember, you’re not in this alone.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. “Thank you, that means a lot. I’ll call you after I meet with the club.”

Liz’s tone sharpened. “I’ve got my guard up, don’t worry. I’ll keep pushing on Connolly and the money trail. We’ll crack this.” she added before the line clicked off.

You set the phone down beside you, staring at it for a moment before typing a quick response to Jax.

“Let’s meet tomorrow. Noon. TM.”

You hit send before you could overthink it. There. Done. Now it was just a matter of facing whatever came next. You were confident in your ability to handle the legal side of things, but Jax... that was different. Seeing him again wasn’t just about the case; it was about the past, about unresolved emotions, and the complicated mess of history between you both.

But as you leaned back against the headboard, that familiar knot of uncertainty tightened in your stomach again. Charming felt like a minefield—corruption beneath the surface, power plays behind the scenes. And at the center of it all was Jax, pulling you into something that was about more than just legal strategy.

You weren’t sure what the next day would bring, but one thing was certain: this wasn’t just another case. It was personal, in more ways than one.

And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you pulled into Teller-Morrow, your stomach twisted with unease. You hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, and already you felt the weight of the memories pressing down on you. Before you could even gather your courage, the office door swung open, and there she stood—Gemma Teller. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Gemma had always been more than just Jax’s mother—she was a force of nature. The history between you two was complex, a mix of respect, tension, and unresolved emotions. She had always wanted Jax to take his rightful place at the head of the club, and at times, you felt like she viewed you as a threat to that vision. She never outright said it, but you could feel it in her looks, her comments, that underlying worry you’d pull Jax away from the life she envisioned for him. In her mind, love was dangerous if it meant her son might stray from the path she’d set for him.

But things hadn’t turned out the way any of you expected. The decisions Jax made, the path the club took—it all happened regardless of your love.

Somehow, you willed yourself out of the safety of your car, and now, standing here in the parking lot, you weren’t sure how Gemma was going to greet you. Would it be the sharp-edged woman who used to see you as a potential obstacle, or the maternal figure who had, at times, treated you like family?

As she approached, her sharp gaze softened slightly when she saw you. There was a flicker of something—recognition, nostalgia maybe—but Gemma being Gemma, it was hard to tell what she was really thinking. She stood there for a moment, looking you over, as if assessing whether time had changed you—or if you were still the same woman she once had a complicated relationship with.

“Well, look who’s back,” Gemma said, her voice laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and curiosity. Her eyes scanned you, and though her expression remained unreadable, you could feel the weight of her scrutiny. She hadn’t lost her edge.

“Gemma,” you said, stepping forward, trying to keep your voice steady, even though your heart was pounding. “It’s good to see you.”

For a split second, the tension hung in the air. Then, to your surprise, her lips curled into a half-smile, and she pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t warm exactly, but it wasn’t cold either. It was… familiar.

“You too, baby,” she said softly, her tone just a little gentler than you expected. When she pulled back, her eyes locked onto yours, searching for something, though you couldn’t quite tell what. “Missed having you around here.”

Her words caught you off guard, but you nodded, unsure of how to respond. The history between you both was too complicated for simple pleasantries. Gemma folded her arms, giving you another long look. “You still look good, kid. All grown up. Life must be treating you well out there.”

“Something like that,” you replied, offering a faint smile. You wanted to say more, but any words caught in your throat.

She raised an eyebrow, and you could feel her probing deeper, looking past your words to the things you weren’t saying. “I know coming back here ain’t easy for you,” she said, her voice lowering, all traces of humor gone. “Lotta ghosts, I’m sure. But Jax needs you, sweetheart.”

There it was. Gemma was always three steps ahead, and this time, she was trying to use your own feelings against you. She wasn’t just reminding you of your connection to Jax; she was weaponizing it. Like she always did when she wanted something.

But this time, you saw it clearly. Years ago, you might have let her play on the soft spots you had for Jax without even realizing it. Back then, you were less guarded, still figuring out how to navigate people like Gemma. But now? Now you were older, sharper, and you understood her game better than you ever had before.

Then again, with Gemma, it was always about Jax first and foremost. Beneath the tension, there was a quiet, unspoken respect between you—born from your shared loyalty to him. And you almost couldn’t fault her because of it.

Almost.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead forcing the sweetest fake smile you could manage. “I’m here to help,” you said, your tone flat but polite.

Gemma studied you for another long moment before she nodded, her expression softening just a bit. “Good.” She gestured toward the clubhouse with a tilt of her head. “They’re inside. Go on in, baby.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of everything you were about to walk into. Then, with a deep breath, you headed toward the clubhouse, knowing that the real test was just beginning.

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, feeling a wave of familiarity wash over you. The air was thick with the scent of leather, motor oil, and the faint tang of beer and cigarettes. It was captivating, pulling you back in time. Memories rushed in—laughter echoing through the halls, heated arguments by the bar, the camaraderie that once filled every corner. The nostalgia was almost too much to bear.

The room hummed with energy, a mix of business and brotherhood. Heads turned when you walked in, the club members greeted you with expressions that ranged from curiosity to warmth. Jax stood near the bar, flanked by Chibs and Tig. His body language was casual, but the moment his eyes locked onto yours, everything seemed to shift. That tension, the current that had always existed between you, surged again. You felt it deep in your gut, that familiar flutter that left you off balance.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Tig's voice cut through the room, teasing and lighthearted, a grin spreading across his face. He approached quickly, pulling you into a tight side hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Thought we'd have to send out a search party."

You forced a smile, trying to push down the knot in your chest. "Guess I couldn’t stay away forever, huh?"

Chibs was next, stepping forward with his usual warmth, his broad shoulders a comforting sight. "Good to see ye, lass," he said, pulling you in for a brief but solid hug. His embrace steadied you, easing the tension just a little.

"You too, Chibs," you replied, your voice steadying as you caught sight of the "Sergeant-at-Arms" patch across his chest. He was still looking after his brother, still his protector.

And then there was Jax. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the bar, his posture relaxed, but his eyes—those piercing blues—were locked onto you, unreadable yet intense. Something flickered in them as he watched you cross the room. Anticipation? Vulnerability? You couldn’t quite place it, but it made your heart race.

“Hey,” Jax said, his voice low and calm, offering a nod that felt almost casual—except for the way his gaze held yours, unrelenting.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone that didn’t match the way your chest tightened. It didn’t feel casual. Not with him standing there, the weight of his presence bearing down on you, making the room feel smaller.

Looking impossibly good in his leather kutte, worn and weathered, clinging to him like a second skin. His broad shoulders were more defined than you remembered, the white T-shirt underneath emphasizing the lean muscle that flexed with his every subtle movement. His jeans hung low on his hips, and at his side, the knife that once belonged to his father—a reminder of the life he was born into. But in contrast to the rough edges, his signature white Nikes were spotless, a small, almost ironic sign of the control he still maintained amidst all the mayhem.

With that familiar boyish smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze holding you captive, it felt like time hadn’t moved at all. The pull between you, always there, had only intensified. His eyes swept over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch, and in that moment, your carefully built defenses began to dismantle.

Jax didn’t need to say anything for you to feel it—the connection, the history. And as you stood there, caught in his gaze, you realized just how much power he still held over you.

Exhaling a shaky breath, a familiar towering figure stepped into your space. Opie stood before you, his presence bringing you back instantly. His eyes were soft but filled with gratitude, and though he didn’t say much, you could feel the depth of his emotion.

Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms strong and comforting around you. The weight of everything seemed to ease as you leaned into him. There was something solid, unwavering about Opie—his presence had always been a source of quiet brotherly strength.

He pulled back, just slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked you over. There was no need for words between you. You could feel what he was saying in the look he gave you—a silent thank you, for being here, for standing by Jax. It wasn’t easy, and he knew it.

“Ope,” you said quietly, your fingers gently brushing over the VP patch stitched into his kutte. He nodded, his gaze softening even more. He didn’t need to say it; you knew he appreciated you more than words could express.

After a beat, he released you with a gentle pat on the shoulder, stepping back but keeping that connection between you.

You finished greeting the rest of the Sons, taking in Happy and Juice for the first time, while Jax stood nearby, arms crossed, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. He gave a quick introduction. “Juice is sort of our intelligence officer,” he said, nodding toward the younger man with a smirk. “Anything you or your girl need, he’s your guy.”

You gave Juice a polite smile, but your mind was racing, struggling to process everything around you. The room was filled with faces—some familiar, some new—each one stirring a different emotion. Jax’s voice broke through the noise in your head, steady and low as he filled you in on what you’d missed. He listed off Bobby, currently away in Vegas on an Elvis gig, Piney’s tragic death, and then, quieter, Clay’s betrayal and eventual demise. These weren’t just updates—they were the scars the club carried, and you could feel the toll it had taken on them.

Your eyes flicked to Opie, a silent understanding passed between you. Piney’s death wasn’t just a club loss—it was deeply personal, and you could see the weight of it in Opie’s eyes. There were no words needed. Just that brief acknowledgment of everything you’d both lost due to this life.

You glanced around the room as he spoke, the walls lined with mugshots and memories. There was more than you remembered, each one a stark reminder of the lives that had been lost or altered. Jax’s voice, though calm, carried the heavy toll of everything that had happened. “We’ve had to rebuild… but we’re still standing.”

You nodded, trying to absorb it all, but the sheer weight of the club’s history left you spinning. So much had changed, and yet, in so many ways, everything felt the same. The familiarity of it—the faces, the raw energy of the room—only made the losses hit harder. Processing Jax’s brief rundown of the club’s last decade felt like trying to catch your breath while drowning. The room felt entirely too small, the air thicker with years of grief, brotherhood, and blood.

Your chest tightened, and suddenly the noise of the room faded, replaced by a suffocating sense of overwhelm. The memories of your dad, the endless cycle of loyalty and sacrifice, the faces you used to know—it all crashed into you at once, relentless and unyielding. You could feel your pulse quicken, your breath becoming shallow. The walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of the past pressing down on you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop the anxiety from bubbling up.

Your hands trembled as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, desperate for an escape. “Hey, do you guys mind? I need to check in with my office real quick,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice was tight and strained. Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and headed for the door, the room suddenly too stifling.

The warm air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside. You hurried to the side of the building, out of sight, and leaned against the rough brick wall, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

You pressed your trembling hands to your chest, willing your body to calm down, but the tightness only worsened. The faces inside, the ghosts of the past, the changes you hadn’t been there to see—it all swirled around you. And Jax, standing there like a god damn living reminder of everything you’d tried to move on from, only made it harder.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and your vision narrowed as the panic surged through you. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing, but each one felt like you were dragging it through quicksand. The edges of your vision blurred as you fought to keep from losing control entirely.

You pressed your back harder into the wall, as if grounding yourself to something solid would keep you from slipping under. One breath, then another. But the waves kept coming, relentless, and all you could do was ride it out.

Lost in your desperate attempt to control your thoughts, Jax’s sudden appearance startled you. “Jesus Christ, Jax!” you gasped, “Can’t a girl have a panic attack in peace!?”

The humor was your defense, but he saw right through it. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, his expression full of quiet concern, no judgment in his gaze.

“These still happening?” His voice was gentle, like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You shook your head slowly, trying to reassure him—or maybe yourself. “It’s been a while,” you admitted. And it had been. The panic attacks hadn’t started until after your dad’s funeral, when the weight of everything had finally come crashing down on you. They had been rare since then, but being here—back in the thick of it—was bringing it all back.

Jax had been there for the first one. You could still feel the memory of his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he’d tried to steady you.

“Just breathe, Pep. You’re alright, baby,” he’d murmured, his voice strong yet soft, grounding you as you fought for air. His hands held you like an anchor, keeping you planted in the present, calming the storm raging inside you.

You could see in his eyes now that he wanted to do it again—grip your face, hold you still, remind you how to breathe—but he resisted, just watching you carefully, giving you space to pull yourself back together.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice softer now, the edge of panic slowly retreating.

Jax nodded, his gaze never wavering, his presence a quiet reassurance. He didn’t push, didn’t offer words that would feel too heavy right now. He just stood there, close enough that you could feel him, the steady hum of him calming the storm inside you like it always had.

As the tightness in your chest began to ease, you exhaled slowly, embedding yourself in the present. Jax stayed where he was, steady and familiar. You didn’t have to look up to know his eyes were still on you, watching patiently, waiting for you to be ready.

You shifted, pushing your hair back, trying to regain your composure. “So,” you began, your voice a little uneven, “that crash course in club history… it left out a lot.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Jax’s lips. “Figured I’d save the rest for when you weren’t looking like you were about to bolt.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

He shrugged, taking a small step closer. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question. He had always been good at saying what mattered without actually saying it. You nodded, meeting his gaze. The air between you was charged, but somehow, it felt a little easier now.

Jax leaned against the wall beside you, his shoulder just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Neither of you spoke—just stood in the weight of all that had changed, all that remained. Despite the years and distance, there was a strange comfort in the quiet, a reminder of the bond that never really broke.

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Coming back.”

He glanced over at you, his eyes softening. “It’s different now. A lot’s changed.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Yeah,” you murmured, not elaborating because you didn’t need to. He understood. He always did.

Jax shifted slightly, his arm brushing yours in a way that felt intentional but not forceful. “But some things are still the same,” he said, his voice carrying a comfort that felt like home.

You turned your head, really looking at him this time. And in that moment, you realized nothing had changed between you, not really. All the ways Jax made you feel alive were still there, as intense as ever, threading their way through this version of you. The laughter you’d shared, the unguarded moments, all echoed in your mind, reminding you of why it had been so easy to love him all those years ago.

You were screwed.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Some things.”

Jax held your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. He nodded slightly, then asked, “You ready to head back in?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a small fake smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He straightened up, extending his hand to you. It wasn’t just a simple gesture—it was an offer of solidarity, a bridge between the past and the present. You hesitated. You knew what taking his hand meant. It wasn’t just comfort—it was an acknowledgment of everything that once existed between you, everything that still lingered.

And those hands, rough, calloused—the hands that had held you, commanded you, loved you. Memories surged, the way those hands used to move over your body, strong but gentle, leaving you breathless in ways that no one else ever could. Your pulse quickened at the thought, your body remembering what your mind tried to suppress.

You considered pulling back, keeping the distance you’d carefully built to protect yourself. But there was something in his gaze—steadfast, patient—that made you relent. Maybe it was the silent promise of understanding, or maybe it was the sense that, for once, you didn’t have to face it all alone.

As you slid your hand into his palm, the rush of contact sent a familiar ache through you. Like touching a live wire, the sensation both comforting and dangerous at the same time.

The years between you seemed to dissolve, and it felt like you were back to a time when holding his hand meant safety, when it felt like the most natural thing in the world. But now, that safety was bittersweet, tangled up with all the things that had changed, things you couldn’t undo.

As you walked back inside together, your nerves slowly steadied, but not entirely. The weight of what came next crashing around you—a shift from personal to professional that you weren’t sure you could make seamlessly.

The Sons were already moving toward the meeting room, a familiar rhythm as they filed in one by one. You hesitated for a moment as you approached the double wooden doors that separated the main hall from the room where so many decisions had been made. It was the heart of SAMCRO, a place where only full patch members were allowed, unless invited. As Jax walked ahead, he turned to you, his eyes locking with yours. An unspoken acknowledgment of that invitation passing between you.

You took a steady breath, following Jax’s lead as he gestured for the others to remove their electronic gear. Phones, watches, anything that could transmit or record was left behind on the counter by the door. A small but necessary security measure, one that reminded you just how serious things were.

Jax stepped aside, letting you enter first—a show of respect that didn’t go unnoticed. As you crossed the threshold, your pulse quickened, your thoughts rushing back to the task at hand—his defense, the case you needed to build. Yet despite your professional focus, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something far more personal.

The familiar room unfolded before you: a heavy wooden table at its center, surrounded by chairs reserved for the members. The walls were lined with SAMCRO memorabilia, chronicling the club’s long history. Every detail brought back memories of the countless times you’d been outside those doors, waiting, wondering what decisions were being made. Now, you were stepping inside, reentering the world you once fought so hard to leave behind.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in with the weight of the past and the uncertainty of what was to come. Jax pulled out a chair, motioning for you to sit. You took it, keeping your focus on the task at hand, even as the memories swirled around you. You knew this was only the beginning, both in the case and in facing what the two of you had left unresolved.

As Jax moved to the head of the table, it hit you all over again—he wasn’t just a member of this club anymore. He was the club, its leader, its heart, and its future. The sight of him in that spot—the president’s chair—was jarring, a far cry from the man you once knew who had always been just a step behind the power, always questioning his place in it. Now, though, he settled into that chair like he’d been there forever, like it was made for him.

Seeing Jax there for the first time sent a wave of emotions through you, some you couldn’t even name. He exuded authority, a quiet, undeniable control over the room. The way the guys around him, men you’d known for years, deferred to him without question told you everything about how he commanded respect—something he’d always struggled with when Clay was in charge. But this Jax was different. He had the weight of leadership on his shoulders, and it suited him, in a way that made you ache with want.

There was no denying the way his presence filled the room, his hands resting on the table with that same quiet strength you’d seen so many times before. He didn’t need to speak to demand attention; the sheer force of his presence did that for him. The patches on his kutte—his Reaper, President, Redwood Original—seemed to glow under the low lighting, a reminder of all he’d earned, all he’d sacrificed to sit where he was now.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus, but seeing Jax in that seat brought up more than just memories. It aroused something deeper inside you, something visceral and complicated, something you felt like you wanted to explore.

This was his world now; one you weren’t sure you could navigate the same way. But as his eyes met yours across the table, there was a flicker of the Jax you’d always known, the one who would burn the world down to protect the people he loved. And at the center of that, was you.

No matter how much time had passed, how much had changed, you could feel it. The invisible thread that tied you to him, pulling tight in moments like this. You’d tried to sever it, tried to walk away from it—but here you were, sitting across from him, feeling every bit as connected as ever. Jax might command the club now, but in that brief, intense exchange of glances, you realized you still commanded a part of him too.

The meeting was intense but productive. You stood among the Sons, the weight of their stares heavy upon you as you recapped everything uncovered so far. Tension and anticipation filled the room as you detailed the rival MC you suspected might be involved in Jax’s case and the corruption within Charming.

As you spoke, your voice steady and confident, you felt the atmosphere shift. The men leaned in, their focus entirely on you, absorbing every word. Jax watched from his spot at the table, his expression a mix of admiration and intensity. There was something powerful in the way you controlled their attention, the confidence radiating off you. In that moment, you were no longer just a part of this world; you were a force within it, and he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for the woman standing before him, unflinching and resolute.

With determination, you laid out the plan. The club would work their angles, gathering intel the way they did. “But,” you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for debate, “you guys have to stay out of trouble. Jax’s freedom absolutely depends on it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks passed in a blur of pre-trial motions and legal preparation. You were constantly on the move—drafting briefs, reviewing discovery, and prepping witnesses for deposition. Every day felt like a strategic sprint, as you meticulously crafted arguments and counterarguments, anticipating the prosecution’s next move. Each court appearance was a balancing act, maintaining a sharp, composed professionalism—all while bearing the emotional weight that hung over everything. The late nights spent strategizing with Liz felt endless as she continued to uncover more leads, but the pressure mounted with each passing day.

Amid the whirlwind of legal battles, your connection with Jax grew deeper than you’d expected. Late nights over drinks became the norm—what started as case discussions often shifted to more personal conversations. You found yourself sharing pieces of your life beyond Charming, and Jax listened intently. The barriers you’d kept up for so long were starting to crack. Lingering looks, brief touches—each one drawing you closer. The tension between you was impossible to ignore, even if neither of you said it aloud. And quietly, you began to rely on him more than you ever thought you would.

As you and Jax grew closer, you struggled to keep your emotional defenses intact, fully aware of the dangerous game you were playing. Your heart was betraying your mind, and you understood the potential consequences. You had always been flexible with boundaries when the situation called for it—that’s what made you so damn good at your job. But getting involved with Jax beyond the attorney-client relationship felt like a line you couldn’t afford to cross. Every moment with him brought you closer to that boundary, and despite your reservations, the gravitational pull between you was undeniable.

The trial date had finally been set, but the initial relief quickly turned to dread when you learned about the judge—one notoriously known for his stance against offenders like Jax. His reputation sent a wave of unease through you. Renowned for being a stickler for the law, he rarely exhibited leniency toward defendants with ties to criminal organizations—alleged or otherwise, and you understood that this was a significant setback for Jax’s defense. It was clear that drastic action was needed.

As you prepared for the next hearing, the reality of the situation became increasingly daunting. The prosecution had seemingly stacked the deck against Jax, armed with an overwhelming trove of evidence that you knew was questionable at best. Witnesses had been lined up, all poised to testify against him, yet you sensed that many had been coerced or incentivized to provide testimony that would serve the state’s narrative. The prosecution’s strategy relied on the judge's reputation to sway the jury, and you felt the walls closing in around you.

In court, you stood confidently to argue for a change of venue, fully aware this was your last-ditch effort to tilt the scales of justice. Jax sat at the defense table behind you, his presence a steadying force as you gathered your thoughts. Despite the anxiety churning in your gut, you felt empowered, ready to make your case.

“Your Honor,” you began, your voice steady but laced with urgency, “given the high-profile nature of this case and the appointment of Judge Hartford—who has a well-documented history of issuing disproportionately severe rulings in cases of this nature—my client cannot be assured a fair trial in this jurisdiction. Furthermore, the prosecution’s evidence, while admitted, raises substantial concerns regarding its reliability. Key pieces of evidence rest on circumstantial foundations and are bolstered by questionable witness testimony, which has been accepted without the necessary scrutiny.”

You paused, gauging the judge's reaction as the courtroom remained silent. “This is not about deflecting responsibility, Your Honor, but about upholding the principle of impartial justice. Mr. Teller is entitled to a fair and unbiased trial, and the current circumstances of these proceedings threaten to undermine that right.”

The judge’s gaze hardened as he responded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “Counselor, while you present a well-prepared argument, your concerns do not rise to the level required for a change of venue. Your assertion that this court, or any court within this jurisdiction, is incapable of impartiality due to unrelated past cases is both unfounded and inappropriate. I will not tolerate further implications of bias. The trial will proceed here, as scheduled, and I expect you to adhere to the procedural standards of this court.”

The weight of disappointment crashed over you as the motion was denied. The trial would move forward under conditions that were not only unfavorable but also potentially unjust, given the prosecution's ability to present suspicious evidence without proper challenge. You knew that each piece of evidence they had, whether it stemmed from questionable chain-of-custody practices or testimonies that lacked verifiable credibility, posed a significant threat to your case.

Returning to Jax's side, you were left with the grim realization that navigating this battlefield required you not only to confront legal obstacles but also to expose potential ethical violations. The clock was ticking, and you needed to dismantle their narrative before the trial commenced, safeguarding not only Jax’s freedom but also the integrity of the legal system itself.

It was late afternoon when you finally emerged from the courthouse, frustration and exhaustion churning within you like a storm. The hearing had unfolded predictably, which was to say, not in your favor. You clenched your jaw, muttering under your breath about the judge’s dismissive demeanor and the uphill battle that lay ahead. Jax was waiting for you just outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his relaxed posture standing in stark contrast to your tight, wound-up demeanor.

As you approached, he sensed the tension radiating off you, an electric charge around you. His expression shifted from concern to mischief, a glint of playful defiance in his eyes. “You know, for such a pretty lady, you’ve got a seriously intimidating scowl going on there,” he teased, an easy smile spreading across his face.

You shot him a sharp glare, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Thanks for the insightful observation, Jax. I’m glad you’re here to help me manage my emotions.”

“I’m just saying, you might want to dial it down a bit before you scare someone.” He stepped closer, tilting his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, annoyance deepening. “God, you’re annoying sometimes.”

His grin widened. “I’d forgotten how adorable you look when you’re this pissed off.”

You snorted at that. “Adorable?”  the word felt strange on your tongue, a jarring contrast to the storm of frustration brewing inside you. “I’m not trying to be adorable; I’m trying to do my job.”

“Hey, doing your job doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun along the way,” he teased, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just looking out for you. Can’t have you getting all worked up like this, Pepper.”

His charm only fueled your frustration further. “I’m trying to keep everything from falling apart here, Jax. There’s a lot of pressure—”

“And you’re doing a fantastic job of it!” he exclaimed, his tone light yet sincere. “Look at you, holding it all together.” He paused, letting the moment linger. “But if you want a break from holding it all together, I’m here for that, too.”

Your lips twitched at the corners, and you fought to maintain your stern facade. “Are you trying to distract me from being angry right now?”

“Is it working?” he countered, a confident grin plastered across his face.

You let out a reluctant laugh, shaking your head as the frustration began to dissolve. You resolved, playfully lying, “No.”

Jax walked you to your car, his bike parked just a few spaces away. The tension hung between you like a heavy fog, unspoken thoughts swirling in the silence before he finally broke it, his expression shifting. His usual easy charm was tempered by something more serious, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Are things really that bad? How worried should I be after that?” he asked, his voice lower, almost cautious.

You noticed the concern on his face—his jaw tight, eyes searching yours for reassurance. It was rare to see him like this, letting his guard down enough to show he was unsettled. That weight sat heavy between you, and despite the deepening connection, you reminded yourself that it was your job to protect him, to keep him steady when things felt like they might tip over.

Sighing, you offered a small smile, forcing yourself to sound more certain than you felt. “It’s not ideal,” you admitted, “but I’ve handled worse. I wouldn’t lose sleep over it yet.”

Jax studied you for a moment, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “Good to hear,” he said, his voice softening.

You saw the tension in his shoulders ease, though you weren’t sure if it was because of your words or his faith in you. Either way, you resolved in that moment—to keep him from worrying, even if it meant keeping some of your own doubts to yourself.

“Hey,” he said, a familiar glint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Your hotel isn’t far from here, is it?”

You frowned, caught off guard. “No, why?”

“Well,” he continued, leaning in a fraction closer, “how would you feel if I followed you back there? You could change and we can go for a ride on the bike. You know, like we used to.”

His suggestion lingered in the air, tempting yet charged with unspoken implications. Your heart raced at the thought, memories of past rides flooding back—the exhilarating rush of freedom and the undeniable chemistry between you. The idea was thrilling yet daunting, nostalgia mingling with the weight of your current reality.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to conceal your intrigue behind skepticism. “And you think a ride will magically fix everything?”

Jax shrugged, his grin unwavering. “Not fix everything, but it could help clear your head. It always did the trick before.”

You hesitated, your thoughts tangled in the mounting pressure from the trial and the stress that had built over the past weeks. “I don’t know, Jax. I have a lot to review tonight.”

“I understand,” he said, his tone softening. “But sometimes you need to step away from it all. Just one ride won’t hurt, right?”

As your eyes met, the noise of the world around you faded into the background. The thought of escaping, even for a little while, tugged at something in you. You could feel the tension in your chest loosening, if only slightly. The familiarity of being with Jax was hard to resist, especially with comforting memories of the past washing over you like a warm wave.

Your mind recalled that Saturday afternoon, so long ago, when he first convinced you to ride with him. Each ride after had only drawn you closer, igniting feelings you still didn’t fully understand to this day. The thrill of the road had always served as a backdrop for something much deeper between you.

Finally, you sighed, allowing your frustration to slip away. “Fine. But just a quick ride.”

“Awesome,” he said, barely containing his excitement as he moved back toward his bike. “I promise to get you back before the next crisis hits.”

A smile broke through your frustration, a flicker of joy emerging. Climbing into your car, you felt a mix of anticipation and lingering anxiety. As you drove, you glanced in the rearview mirror, watching Jax follow closely behind on his bike, a feeling of calm and safety washed over you.

When you reached your hotel, you parked and hurried inside, your heart racing not just from the thrill of the ride ahead but from the possibilities it held. After quickly changing into a t-shirt and jeans, you grabbed your jacket and stepped outside, the late evening sun casting a golden hue over everything.

Jax was waiting, his eyes lighting up as you emerged into the fading day. The way he looked at you sent a thrill coursing through your body.

You noticed the way his gaze roamed over you, his eyes tracing every detail as you moved with effortless confidence, dressed casually, more like the woman he knew all those years ago. The soft fabric of your shirt hugged your curves in all the right places, accentuating the changes that time had brought—subtle hints of maturity that only made you more intoxicating. He couldn’t help but admire how you carried yourself, a blend of poise and sensuality that sent a rush of heat coursing through him.

Every glance at you stirred something primal within him. Your smile lit up your face, and the glint in your eyes held a promise of mischief and tenderness. The way your hair fell perfectly around you, the subtle sway of your hips—it all drew him in. In that moment, you weren’t just a familiar face; you were a vision that awakened his deepest cravings, leaving him breathless with anticipation for what was to come.

“You look amazing, Pep,” he said, punctuating his words with a low whistle and an extra charming wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat of arousal spread through you at his compliment and the way his gaze devoured you. “Let’s just ride, Teller.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone. Climbing onto the bike behind him, excitement surged through you, a heady mix of nerves and joy. You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the heat radiating from him, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and exhilarating. The smell of him was almost dizzying, an enticing blend of leather and spice, wrapped in the warm musk of his skin, it was utterly captivating. It all felt instinctual, as if you had never truly been apart.

As the bike surged forward, the hum of the engine vibrated beneath you, its power rolling through your body in waves. The sensation was addictive. You’d forgotten how freeing this felt—how the road opened ahead, inviting you into a world where nothing existed but the rush of air, the growl of the machine, and the strength of Jax’s body in front of you.

Your grip around his waist tightened instinctively, your hands resting against his toned frame, feeling the flex of muscle as he controlled the bike with effortless skill. The wind whipped through your hair, tugging at the strands, as you leaned into the turns, trusting him completely. With every curve of the road, you were reminded of just how alive you felt on the back of his bike, a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to experience in years.

The exhilaration flooded your senses, making your pulse race, your skin buzz. There was something thrilling about the speed, the raw power beneath you—and about being this connected to him again. Your body molded against his in a way that felt too natural, too right. You had forgotten how good this was, how good he felt. The familiar heat that always simmered between you both seemed to flare to life like a spark catching fire.

Each time his hand drifted back to yours to give a reassuring squeeze, it sent a jolt through your chest, a shock that had nothing to do with the bike and everything to do with the man in front of you. The scent of leather and Jax enveloping around you—a reminder of what you’d once had, what you’d always been drawn to. His strength, his recklessness, his loyalty.

The road stretched out ahead, but all you could focus on was him—his presence, his warmth, the pull of gravity that seemed to bring you closer with every mile. There was a tension building, a storm brewing in the spaces between you, and it wasn’t just about the ride. It was about him—the way he made you feel alive, dangerous, wanted.

And as the miles flew by, the line between the past and present blurred completely. Jax had always had this effect on you, waking something wild and unrestrained. The longer you stayed on that bike, the more you realized that no matter how much you had tried to distance yourself from him, from this, the connection was still there—burning hotter and brighter than ever. And you weren’t sure you wanted to fight it anymore.

As he parked the bike and cut the engine, the world around you faded into a distant hum, the adrenaline from the ride coursing through your veins like molten lava. You climbed off, laughter bubbling up inside you as you pulled off the helmet, shaking your hair loose. The wind had turned it into a wild, tousled halo framing your face, and in that moment, you felt liberated from the weight of your worries.

Jax inched closer, his body radiating heat that contrasted with the cool evening air. His eyes roamed over you, a smirk playing on his lips, and then he closed the distance, brushing a few loose strands behind your ear with a lingering touch. The simple act sent a thrill racing through your body, his fingers lingered against your skin, an intense reminder of how easily you could lose yourself in him.

“You’ve got that wild look going on,” he said, his voice a low, sultry whisper, laced with playful mischief. “Like the rebellious girl I fell for when I was seventeen.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, a rush of desire surging within you at the memory of that time—free, untamed, and filled with reckless abandon. The way he looked at you now sparked a forgotten excitement, coaxing out a spirit you hadn’t tapped into in years.

“Sometimes I really miss her,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it aloud made it even more real. You felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering the thrill of those carefree days and the adventurous essence that had once defined you.

Jax’s body pressed against yours in a way that sent sparks flying. He leaned in, his gaze locked onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that made your heart race. The air around you thickened with anticipation, that irresistible force drawing you together, the world around you fading away.

“Just so you know,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing, “I’ve always thought you looked hotter with a little chaos in your hair.”

The tension hung thick, saturated with desire. As you tilted your head back, your breath quickened, every nerve in your body alight with need. Just as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, your phone buzzed violently against your thigh, shattering the moment like glass. You instinctively pulled away, breathless and disoriented.

You fumbled for your phone, your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced at the screen. Liz’s name flashed, accompanied by an urgent message:

“The prosecution just entered new evidence. We need to discuss our strategy ASAP.”

The weight of her text crashed down on you, extinguishing the fire that had been lit between you and Jax. You felt the immediate shift in your mood, the walls you’d been trying to keep at bay rising once more as reality flooded back in, cold and harsh.

“Everything okay?” Jax asked, his tone shifting from playful to concerned, the light in his eyes dimming slightly as he took a step back.

“Yeah, just… work,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Looks like we’re going to have a long night.”

A shadow of disappointment crossing his features. “Guess the joyride is over then,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, but you could sense the frustration in his posture.

You felt a pang of regret for what had almost happened between you, a moment that could have shifted everything. The chemistry that hung in the air was thick, the desire still radiating through you both, but the reminder of your responsibilities loomed large.

“Jax, I—” you began, but the words faltered on your lips. You felt the weight of responsibility, reminding you to keep your focus on the case, but the yearning in his gaze held you captive, making it nearly impossible to look away.

“Handle it,” he replied, his voice steady yet laced with an undertone of something softer—an understanding tinged with disappointment. “I’ll be here when you’re ready for another ride, Pep.” His hand brushed against your cheek, leaving a trail of heat that lingered softly. The gentle caress sparked a rush of emotions within you, evoking the depth of the connection you shared.

His words carried a double meaning that made your stomach flip-flop. You turned away, feeling the heaviness in your chest swell. The exhilaration of the ride and the tantalizing near-kiss lingered, but now they felt like fading echoes, drowned out by the harsh reality of the battle looming ahead. The bond you shared with Jax was enthralling, yet the stakes of his defense demanded your undivided attention, pulling you back into the relentless world of law where every decision carried the weight of consequences.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. The unresolved tension of what had just occurred lingered in the air, heavy with potential and yearning for a resolution.

[gghostwriter]

Poison Me, I’m Fine

Spencer Reid x Songwriter!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your choice of poison was Spencer Reid. Who knew he would kill you and set you free in the process

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: I feel insane for writing this in one sitting and not editing it. There's no part 2 for this, I just wanted to purge myself of this angst plot that took over me. This is probably the closest I could write to a singer-songwriter reader x spencer, granted she just writes for other pop stars (maybe I'll write some popstar!reader next time idk yet.) Also, 'Free Now by Gracie Abrams' and 'The Black Dog by Taylor Swift' was on repeat when I wrote this so you can spot some inspiration from both here. Hope you like it!

Main masterlist

You don’t know why you settled for less. Why you opted to walk on a blurry tight rope, why you chose a crumbling place to land on, and why you chose to enter a situationship that will end in heartbreak. Actually, scratch that, you do know why. Spencer Reid, that was enough reason for you to put yourself on the line. Or it was until your treacherous, greedy heart wanted more. 

Does she follow like an echo? Like your shadow, you can try, but you can't run

It started with hushed whispers. Your mind slowly poisoning itself with what ifs and scenarios where he was fully yours, just like how he unknowingly owned you—mind, body, and soul. Whispers of—wouldn’t it be nice to visit this museum again with Spencer or he’d love this newly opened vintage bookstore around the block or it’d be nice to see the stars with him right now. You tried to cleanse those thoughts away but that’s the thing, poison that has entered your bloodstream is hard to remove. 

It's a pain that I caught you at a bad time It's a shame that I memorized your outline

It morphed to vivid imagery next—hallucinations so life-like that you found yourself believing it half of the time. Portraits of him and you holding hands as you both walked down the streets, phantom outlines of you together swaying close to muted music, and shadows of you and him twisting in bedsheets. All untrue, except for the latter. You attempt to blink them all away with no success. Your heart reluctant to part with the delusion than face the truth—that he had only offered you his body and nothing else.

Every page that I wrote, you were on it Feel you deep in my bones, you're the current

It seeped out of you next—to your writings, to your works as if your body was doing its best to reject the poison away. To save itself from the nearing death that seemed inevitable in the end. Your poetry, your lyrics, and your art all contain entangled webs of metaphors and colors that lead back to him. Purple streaks on your canvas to represent his favorite, his beloved authors mentioned in your verses, and symbolisms of his career scattered all over—cuffs, guns, shot and everything in between. You tried to pour it all out of you, the dark and sticky emotion of despair and longing covering you and all extensions of you. Everyone noticed the change. The dimming of lights in your eyes and the shadows that threaten to swallow you whole. Everyone noticed—your family, friends, colleagues, and even the pop stars that buy your singles. Everyone except for the one that could save you, Spencer. 

It turned into screams next. It was as if your body gathered all its remaining strength to shout for help or to howl in pain, you’re not sure really. All you’re sure of was that the end was near. The end was coming to free you from everything—from him. The trigger was overhearing him discuss you with his friend and male co-worker during a run-in in his apartment where he had no choice but to introduce you. Six months of pseudo dating him and no one knew you existed.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, wanting to escape the tension emitting from the situation and when you came back, that’s when you heard it. The lethal blow to your already dying heart.

“She seems nice,” his friend, Morgan, commented.

Spencer shrugged. “She’s no Maeve—not as deep but she’s—she’s safe.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop it from quivering lest you whimper out loud the pain his words has caused you.

Donning on a fake smile on your face, you watched as Morgan left with a wave goodbye to you and a casual ‘see you again.’ Not like that would ever come true.

Within seconds, you felt your mask cracking as tears slowly trickled down your face.

“I love you.”

They say the truth sets us free but not this truth. All it did was crash, burn, and pulverize your already precarious stacks of sticks that represent you and him. 

Silence.

“You know, when we first started this—whatever this is—I promised to myself that I wouldn’t fall for you. That this was purely physical, sex,” you sardonically laughed. “But you know what I realized, that you were easy to fall in love with. So easy that I found myself ruined even before I could comprehend where and when it happened.”

“We agreed, didn’t we? That we would tell the truth and stop when feelings are starting to get involved. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You roughly swiped away the tears. “I didn’t know when it happened, Spencer! I thought if I stuck it out long enough, you’d feel something for me too! But that was foolish of me to believe. I see it now.” 

“See what?” 

You walked towards him, invading his personal space. The same way he did with yours. “That you’re not ready. Honestly I’d prefer if my opponent was standing in front of me. At least I could gauge if I had the chance to win. But with her, she’s gone, Spencer—” you jabbed your pointy finger on his chest, where his heart was. “I’m fighting with a ghost who I can’t even land a hit on. A ghost who haunts your every waking and dreaming moment. Tell me, Spencer, how do I compete with that—when I feel there’s little to no space for me. I exist only in between and in your limbo when you’re craving for a physical companion. How do I win, Spencer? Tell me or should I just throw in the towel?” 

“Y/N—”

His eyes contained the answer and although it wasn’t what you were wishing for, it was what you subconsciously knew you needed to free you. 

You nodded your head. “I guess—I guess this is it, huh. End of the line for us.” 

“I guess so.” 

You gathered your coat, haphazardly strewn on the floor—just like the pieces of your shattered heart and as you stepped out of his threshold, you gave yourself one last chance to memorize his outlines.

“Goodbye, Spencer.” 

And finally, the poison had killed you and had set you free. 

If you feel like fallin', catch me on the way down Never been less empty, all I feel is free now

[cinnamonroll-anon]

lmk request!

wukong and mac (separate) had a nightmare and s/o came to comfort?

a/n: thank you both for the request! Since you both had the same prompt i decided to just put the two together! Sorry for my long absence have some comfort for your heart!

Terrible Visions: Sun Wukong x Reader, Macaque x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: angst to fluff, comfort (giving), mentions of violence and mentions of death. SEASON 5 SPOILERS! (not much but will brush up on events that take place!)

Sun wukong:

Honestly, what hasn't come back to haunt the infamous monkey king? Behind his usual suave facade, he was constantly stuck in his own head, thinking about his past and what problems could await on the roads ahead. If we're being honest here, he's stressed of having to save the world or having to face his own mistakes and shortcomings. He can never live down his own choices, not entirely at least. There would always be a whisper of doubt breathing down his neck, it would never fail to make him feel ashamed of himself. Luckily for him, he can play things off perfectly and no one would know any better from his usual laid back attitude. He wouldn't allow anyone to see the burden on his shoulders, or see how weary he's grown over these recent months. Well, everyone else except you.

You have been with Wukong for a while, so you're no stranger to his attempts at keeping you at an arm's length. It was a prominent problem in your relationship. He simply wouldn't tell you what was bothering him, even if it was something so miniscule that you could stop doing. Nowadays, he tries to open up to you and to express himself to the best of his ability. It was a promise you both made to each other as your relationship continued to flourish. He'd communicate with you and you'd understand him and try to meet him in the middle. It was a fair compromise that has saved your relationship on multiple occasions.

It took a great level of trust for him to feel like he could share his worries with you, he didn't want to trouble you... At least it was partially true, especially with all the guilt that's been dying to swallow him whole. He felt as though he had dragged you down into a mess like he did with MK, and that he was the one to blame for all of his suffering, as well as yours. Another part of him wouldn't allow him to love or care as deeply as he used to. Not again because, he knows what love really leads to... To pain. He had promised himself once in the past to not let his heart suffer again, to never go through another heartbreak. It was that promise kept getting in the way with his new ambitions and his heart's desire. To be with you.

Unfortunately as all things do, these emotions build up, and when they resurface, they present themselves to the great sage as he finds enough tranquility to sleep at night. He could only keep his thoughts to himself until they started pouring into his subconscious. The nightmares weren't as frequent but they'd manifest horrors that would leave him restless and fearful. Even in his slumber, he couldn't find rest.

Maybe he would be trapped in the mountain with no one to talk to, feeling condemned, forgotten, unloved and lonely. He'd stay there, unmoving and vulnerable for eternity. Perhaps it would be all the splitting headaches with his circlet, punishing and agonizing. No matter how much he begged for it to simply disappear, the torment would only continue. He would dig his nails into the groud, clawing into his head in desperation, howling in pain and sobbing for anything to stop it. He'd never find that solace here.

Maybe it was the day he struck Macaque. It would always be the same outcome, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. To change it. His body would move without his permission, his mind torn in-between this urge to kill him and hopelessly trying to stop himself. He saw his old friend laying beaten down, he watched as Macaque tried to move to get away from him helplessly. Was that fear or hatred he saw in his eyes? He couldn't tell before he felt the way his staff punctured through his eye, cracking entirely past his skull. No matter how many times he'd watch the scene unfold, it never ceased to be any less gut wrenching when he drew the final blow. It was all worse when he could smell his blood, practically taste the hot irony liquid in his tongue.

Sometimes it was failing MK. Failing him as his mentor. He knew he wasn't the best at teaching, honestly it had stung him when MK searched for guidance in Macaque. It just didn't help ease his nerves or reassured him that he was doing the right thing. He's put the kid through so much, yet he always kept his distance from him. He couldn't afford for him to get close, not again, not after everything he's been through. MK sacrificing himself was painful to watch, and luckily for him, he'd get to relive that moment. One second he was contemplating losing his Immortality and his life, and the next that familiar excruciating pain would crush his head again. He couldn't't move to save him, to sacrifice himself instead. The worst part was seeing that look on MK's face through his tears and screams. He almost lost him, but in his dreams he wouldn't come back, and in his eyes his world would still remain shattered.

The lady bone demon's control was the worst dream he could ever be faced with, because instead of any other circumstances hurting his friends, he was killing them all... One by one. A ruthless frenzy and an unstoppable slaughter, all for her destiny. Her voice would pound against his head and her command over him was absolute. He couldn't even cry if he wanted to.

He'd wake up in cold sweat, lunging to sit up and gasp for air. He had startled you awake, promoting you to wearily sit up with him.

"Wukong? What's the matter?"

He gripped his heart feeling it's frantic palpitations as he took harsh breaths. Maybe, the worst nightmare of all... Was losing you. He condemned his head for getting so creative with ways he could lose you. Meanwhile, you observed him, trying to read his expression. You sat there for a minute before you gently placed your hand ontop of his own.

"Wukong-"

"P-peaches, hey y-yeah, sorry about that! Just ah, y'know ehe thought i lost my streak. And to Macaque no less!" He answered with a strained smile, you could see a him covered in sweat.

"Uh-huh, so you're expecting me to believe that you're this worked up... About your videogame?" You deadpanned as you were fighting to keep your eyes open. With or without them open you can hear how shaken up he was.

He stumbled over his words and another half assed excuse before taking a deep breath and looking down at his hands.

"You're right- It, It wasn't about videogames... I had another nightmare."

You noticed how fragile his voice sounded, that and how ashamed of himself he looked. Was it his pride or perhaps it was the horrible attempt to brush you off? It didn't matter to you in the moment as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey, that's awful. Do you want to talk about it? Or maybe cuddle-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. You gradually hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him, gently rubbing his back in a comforting manner. You could feel his racing heartbeat against you, how ragged his breathing was before they began to even out. Much of your relief, he was slowly calming down. His tail wrapped around your waist, giving it a tight squeeze, trying to ground himself in the present.

"It's okay Wukong, you're safe. I'm here for you, thank you for telling me. I want to help you with things like these, okay?"

"Even if i wake you up in the dead of night?" He spoke through a chocked sob, he was trying really hard not to cry, but it was so hard when you were so willing to sacrifice sleep and time just to help him. He tightened his hold on you, burying his face against your shoulder, either for comfort or to hide his face from your view, you didn't bring it up as you placed a kiss to his head.

"Yes Wukong, even if you woke me up at four in the morning," You replied with a chuckle. "I'd rather have missed a little time asleep than having you dealing with a nightmare all alone. Especially if I'm already here for you."

He shook his head as he let out a heavy sigh, you could feel your shoulder getting wet by his tears. After his initial fear had finally passed, he began to move again. He first placed his hand behind your head before he hesitantly pushed you away, only enough to look into your eyes. He mused to himself how sleepy you looked, before remembering he was the reason you were so worried about him now and awake.

"I'm sorry... you shouldn't be up at this hour Peach, i didn't mean to-"

"It was a nightmare Wukong, you didn't exactly plan it." You interrupted him as you delicately held his face in your hands, "Besides I already told you I'm not going anywhere. Im sticking with you no matter what, be it sickness, a nightmare or the world ending, again... I'm with you Wukong."

He swore he could barely blink back the tears in his eyes threatening to pour again. Despite it all you, were still here. You stayed by his side. You were still kind and loving to him, even if he wasn't always as vulnerable or open with you. You were more than willing to help him through it, to save your relationship... to save him. That was so brave of you, he hoped you knew that. He wished he could tell you, but he wouldn't say it... not today at least or now. He smiled warmly before laying back down, pulling you into his arms as you laid your head on his chest. He held you close as he felt himself become more tired, but before he could close his eyes again you pressed a lazy kiss against his lips.

"I love you Wukong, goodnight my love." What wonderful words to hear, he thought to himself, before finally letting his muscles relax and his jaw unclench. He finally felt safe and loved... all in his beloveds arms. He truly felt like everything would be okay. He looked down at your already sleeping form, god, you must've been truly exhausted he thought to himself. He waited a bit until he knew you were sound asleep, not taking any chances to wake you again, before he placed a loving kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too Peaches, if you only knew how much you mean to me... Goodnight love, see you in the morning."

Macaque:

He's more open to you about his nightmares. You've been with him for this long, so he trusts you're not going to hurt him when he lets down his guard. You've proven yourself to him time and time again that you won't take advantage of him or harm him. On the contrary, you treat him with compassion and respect, even when he has felt undeserving of your grace and patience. Youve always so considerate and understanding to him. He swears he doesn't deserve you, he knows he's definitely not the best guy around, but if you stayed this long and showed him you're not going anywhere, then he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest to appreciate you and show you how much he cares about you too.

But his nightmares are a sore spot for him, especially telling you what happens in them. He'd rather forget they happened at all, but those images in his mind refuse to leave him. Why must he be reminded of how much he suffered now that he's living a better life? He's gotten close to wukong again, albeit the two still bicker, but he knows now that wukong trusts him. It's a work in progress, but their relationship was mending slowly, it all starts with a little bit of trust. And then there's you.

He'll admit that he wasn't planning on ever having a partner, with all his issues, he considered himself the least qualified in the romance department. And yet there he was, spending his days with you happily. You had even stayed with him while he was on flower fruit mountain, you would enjoy the cuddle sessions the little monkeys had with Macaque. Even if he wasn't all too thrilled with the arrangement but, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked with the little ones clinging to you.

It's been a little over a day or two since the pillar of heaven was restored, you and Macaque having been enjoying some down time from the world's end. It was such a shame that in these peaceful moments his mind would still be plagued with these horrible nightmares. Even before he met you they were quite common, it made his lifestyle change as he avoided sleep, staying up throughout the night until eventual exhaustion would overtake him. If he pushed his body to the limit the chances of having a nightmare would decrease. Not the healthiest choice on his part, but the one that has worked for him over time.

But that all changed with you. You have given him a safe space, a home he could call his own. He trusted you and he let himself relax around you, and this would cause him to fall asleep at a more reasonable hour. He was still a night owl but it was harder for him to stay awake when you were so close to him, so warm and peacefully asleep. He couldn't overcome the temptation of resting alongside you. Although that peace would be short-lived.

Every bad experience he's had gets relived and reimagined in each nightmare. The most common type is getting betrayed. It ranges from getting abandoned and feeling worthless to being used for someone else's benefit. If he's had a nightmare of you betraying him, he would be a bit distant. Luckily he was willing to talk with you about it, in which you reassured him that you just wanted to be with him because you loved him. You weren't going to leave him or cheat on him.

Another common nightmare he's had was recollecting the day Sun Wukong not only turned on him, but killed him. It was always a brutal but hopeless cause. His heart was heavy with how wukong so easily sidelined him, how everything they had been through meant nothing. That he no longer meant anything to his friend. This dream was too realistic, he could feel every strike and how tired he was becoming. Nothing he could do was enough. Not against a force like wukong. The most horrid part was when he finally looked up at wukong in defeat only to be met with an agonizing pain to his eye. This nightmare would cause him to wake up yelling and holding his eye, feeling the phantom pain the dream left behind.

The least common dreams he had that would leave him mortified were the ones of the Lady Bone Demon. Being forced to do her will or have his life taken away from him again. He thought he was clever losing the key, but somehow she always escaped. Having the slow threat of her crystals on his body being a horrifying experience, especially the days in which he would become paralyzed in fear, going stiff in his sleep. Sometimes she would make him kill Sun Wukong and MK and there wasn't any fire of Samadhi to save him from being entirely consumed by her will. The worst one of all was when she found out about you, sending macaque to kill you, her champion didn't need any distractions after all. No insignificant mortal will stand in the way of his destiny.

Macaque would jolt awake, taking in gasping breaths before looking around the room. Hed sigh in relief, he was home, he was safe, just another stupid dream. He'd stay awake in bed, looking up at the ceiling in hope's of falling asleep. He couldn't shake the vivid images from his mind and he felt agitated and restless, he couldn't sleep again. He then looked over at you and the sight warmed his heart a little. You were peacefully asleep, it was a miracle his sudden movement didn't wake you, but he was silently grateful. Hed hate to wake you up since you looked oh so blissfully asleep. He couldn't do that, not to you. So he decided to discreetly get out of bed before using a shadow portal to drop himself into the couch. It was a better option than having to maneuver himself quietly through the room with you soundly asleep. Waking you up was simply a chance he didn't want to take.

He would sit in silence on the couch simply trying not to think about whatever dream plagued his mind. At first the silence was normal but he quickly found out how not wanting to think of something made you think of it more. The silence would become unbearable so he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He opted to mindlessly watch tv, turning the volume down to the lowest possible. It was the perks of having six ears.

You woke up, having stirred from your rest at the lack of his presence. You drowsily felt his side of the bed. It was empty, so you sluggishly got out of bed to look for him. He could hear you coming towards hims, yet his entire focus was on the nonsensical noises of the TV, he couldn't bother to pay attention to what was happening. You eventually made your way over to him and plopped yourself down on the couch next to him. You leaned against him, laying your head on his shoulder. He went tense at the sudden contact, not like he wasn't already stiff as a board as he tried to force his attention away from his own thoughts.

"Hey Honey, what's got you up so early?" He asked casually as if he also wasn't up at four in the morning.

"I didn't feel you in bed with me anymore... Are you okay Macaque?" You fought off the drowsiness in your eyes, but leaning against him and feeling his warmth was lulling you back to sleep. No, you had to make sure he was alright, sleep can wait. You slowly were able to get your hazy mind working before you felt how stiff he was against you. He usually eased up to your touch by now, even when he was caught by surprise.

He notices your discomfort before he wraps an arm around you, slowly relaxing against you. He gave you a soft smile as he took in your sleep ridden state. It was heartening to him that you missed his presence, even when you were asleep. But he wasn't exactly thrilled that he still somehow woke you up, but having you with him did relieve him of his worries.

"Sweetheart, listen... I'm sorry for leaving you alone but i just... Had a nightmare and i didn't want to wake you up about it. But i still did." His answer was honest but filled with disappointment in himself. He really wanted to handle it by himself, but a part of him knew he could never ease his mind the way you could. Having heard his explanation you leaned into him, giving him a tender hug. He's still for a moment before he finally wraps his arms around you tightly, allowing himself to be comforted by you. You gently ran your finger through his fur, it was like your every caress alleviated his aching heart and it wasn't long enough until he began to quietly cry against your chest.

"I-I didn't want any of this to happen... I didn't want to go through with it, I had to-" He murmured against you. You could tell it had been a horrible nightmare, especially if it broke him down like this

"I know baby, but you're not there anymore. You haven't done anything, you're at home... It was only a dream, you're safe... I'll keep you safe." You quietly reassured him, calming his anguish and placing kisses where his tears ran, gently wiping them away with your thumbs as you held his face. It was when you held him so close that you noticed it. His glamour was off. You could see his six ears, all the scars on his face and his eye, you wondered how you didn't notice it before. Then again being awake at four wasn't exactly peak conscious behavior and it was still dark, the only light being the dim glow of the TV.

Macaque felt safe in your embrace, enjoying the sound of your voice. He would normally be uneasy listening with all of his ears, but your voice was like a serene river to him, calming and comforting. He would gladly listen to you talk for hours about anything, but when you directed it at him and used it to ease his pains, it was simply heavenly.

After a while of hugging he thinks you might've dosed off then and there.

"Hey darling, are you still with me?" He asked quietly as he gave you a soft shake. The only response you gave him was a low, albeit late, hum of acknowledgment.

"Yeah, yeah, wide awake." Which ears a soft chuckle out of him before makes sure you're secure in his hold. Before you can ask if he wanted to head back to bed, you feel a swoosh before having landed on the soft and familiar mattress. You weren't even going to lie, his shadow portals were convenient. You probably wouldn't have made it back to the room with how tired you felt.

"A heads up would've been nice." You mumbled against him.

"Nah, I'm sure you could've handed it." You could practically hear his signature smirk in his tone.

"What if i couldn't and it scared me?" You joked as you pushed yourself away from him, earning you the sight of his handsome grin and un-glamored glory.

"Come on sugar, you're telling me you're scared of a little gravity. You'd think you'd be used to it by now." He chuckled as he patted your head before ruffling your hair.

"Hey! My hair, you're messing it up!"

"You have the wildest bed-head baby, you should be thanking me."

"Oh, I'll give you a thank you, alright. Keep this up and I'll smother you entirely." You challenged him with your own mischievous grin. He didn't believe your little threat for one second.

"Oh really? I'd like to see you try~" You then held the sides of his face before pulling him into a barrage of kisses. He's caught by surprise, unable to get away from your devoted kisses. He nuzzles against you trying to fight off his embarrassment, but you're so cute and oh lord, he feels like he's malfunctioning. Even after all this time he wasn't immune to being overwhelmed by your affections, having gone most of his life without them. Eventually you slow down your kisses, instead you poured out adoring words about every feature you love about him before giving it a kiss. You took your time, letting him know how much you loved him with each soft murmur and soft peck. That you loved him dearly and found him captivating, even with his glamor off.

"I think the scar makes you look hot" you ended off on, trying to brighten up how he might've felt about his appearance.

"Oh really? Is that so?" He smirked before finally wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him to cuddle. You soon felt the familiar sensation of his tail curling around you protectively. You both held each other tenderly and you leaned closer to leading him into a slow kiss. Your lips molded into each other lovingly, parting to look into each other's eyes with nothing but adoration. You trailed your hands through his hair until you reached his ears, gently scratching the back of them and caressing them. He let out a content huff before resting his head against your chest, closing his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep by your warmth and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. You place a final kiss against his forehead.

"I love you Macaque, I hope you only have sweet dreams tonight." He didn't need to when his time awake with you was his greatest dream come true.

"I'll always love you, thank you my love." That was all he said before pleasantly falling asleep, safe and loved in your embrace.

back

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Fandom: Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara, f!Reader Summary: You went against the man you loved and helped Miles escape. Now you must face Miguel's wrath. Word Count: 1821 TW: Angst, Betrayal, Anger, Glitching, Left for Dead, Miguel has a temper Notes: I told myself I wasn't going to get sucked into writing for this movie, but this idea wouldn't stop nagging at my brain so here you go!

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

As you watched Miles disappear in a flash of the Go Home machine, you couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, you had been afraid that he wasn’t going to make it. That despite everything you, Hobie, and Margo had done to help him, Miguel was going to stop him before he could escape. But he got to go home to try and save his father. He had a chance.

However, the smile slowly faded from your face as Miguel roared and ripped the arm off of the Go Home machine. You had been so focused on getting Miles off of Earth-928 that you hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. This was going to be bad.

The room had filled with other Spider-people who had all been involved in the chase for Miles and they all just stared at Miguel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margo’s avatar disappear and you sighed in relief. At least she would escape Miguel’s fury. 

Right now, his focus had turned towards Gwen. As they began yelling back and forth at one another and Miguel dragged her into the Go Home machine, you started to back out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. While part of you wanted to run to Gwen’s aid, she was being sent back to her own universe. It was heartbreaking to watch– especially knowing what was going to happen to her father when she returned –however, she was getting off easy considering her part in getting Miles involved in the Spider-Society in the first place. Things could have been a lot worse for her. As they would probably be for you if you didn’t let Miguel cool down for a while before confronting him.

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Red webs coiled around your arms and legs pinning them to your body and making you fall to the floor. Before you could try to squirm your way out, Miguel yanked hard and you flew backwards into him. He caught your chin with one large hand, his nails sharpening into claws and digging painfully into your skin as he held you off the ground. 

His red eyes flashed dangerously as he roared in your face, “Did you think I wouldn’t see you trying to slink away? You helped him escape! You! Of the hundreds of us in the Spider-Society, you were the last one I ever imagined turning against me.”

“I haven’t turned against you, Miguel. You know I love you too much to ever do that.” With your face still pinned in his grasp, you tried your best to keep your expression calm and non-confrontational. You knew how he got when he was like this and it was better to not get him even more agitated. However, your voice remained firm and unwavering. “But right now, you’re letting your past cloud your judgment and you’re not thinking clearly. I was just trying to–”

“He’s trying to alter a second canon event! We still haven’t dealt with what he did in Mumbattan and you just let him get away to do it again!” He bared his sharp teeth at you as he growled deep in his throat. In all your years together as friends or as lovers, you had never once feared Miguel would hurt you…. until this moment. All reason seemed to have left him and all you saw when you looked at his face was fury and pain. There was no trace of the man you loved before you.

Trying to keep the quiver out of your voice, you calmly said, “You said it yourself. Miles is an anomaly. He was never supposed to be one of us so who’s to say he has to uphold the canon events? From what I can tell, the Peter Parker of that world already lost his captain before he died. So maybe Miles has a chance none of us ever got. Maybe he doesn’t have to bear this loss like the rest of us. Maybe he can change his fate.”

“‘Maybe! Maybe! Maybe’! You risked the lives of an entire universe on maybe!” Miguel’s grip on your face tightened and you mewled slightly as his claws broke skin. “Whether or not he was supposed to be Spider-Man, he is now. And that means he must follow the canon. If he was different than the rest of us, he wouldn’t have already lost his uncle.”

“Or may– possibly becoming the Prowler is what got that Aaron Davis killed, not because he was Miles’s uncle.” You tried to reach up to stroke Miguel’s cheek, to calm some of his anger, but your hands were still pinned to your side by his webs. “Miguel, don’t do this. I’m begging you. Please, let Miles try. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, Miguel’s fury faded from his face until there was nothing left but pain. Pain that you knew you had caused. He lowered you to the floor and loosened his grip on your face though he didn’t release you. Then, as he stared deeply into your eyes, he spoke in an agonized whisper. “I did trust you. I would have gone to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for you. I gave you my heart even after I swore never to open myself up to anyone again but you turned your back on me the first chance you had.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squirmed against the webs, desperate to touch him. To hold him and make him feel that your love for him never wavered. “You know that’s not true. I’ve stood by your side from the very beginning. I’ve loved you and helped you build this Society so we could uphold the canon across hundreds of universes. But I just�� I just couldn’t stand by this time and not at least give Miles a chance to try and save someone he loves. I’m sorry.”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

His claws slashed through his webbing, freeing your limbs. But before you could move, Miguel grabbed your arm, ripped your portal watch from your wrist, and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Still holding your arm, he tossed you across the room. You crashed into the floor and slid another dozen feet or so on your side. And just as you slowed to a stop, you glitched as this unfamiliar universe attacked your cells. 

You felt like your body was simultaneously being compressed and stretched in a hundred directions at once. When the glitch ended, you let out a small whimper but the sound didn’t cull Miguel’s rage any. Even as you lay in a heap on the ground, he tossed a disk in your direction and suddenly a red transparent field surrounded you. 

Unable to believe he was really doing this to you, you called out to him but he ignored your plea. Instead, he turned his back on you and growled, “Jess, Ben, come with me. And somebody catch Spot.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

Ben fell in behind him, but Jess hesitated, her hand reaching out towards you. But you shook your head. Miguel had judged you and once that happened, no one could change his mind. Jess had too much to lose by trying to help you and despite hating to see her leaving to track Miles down, you knew she was just as trapped now as you were. So, reluctantly, she turned and followed Miguel and Ben into the portal.

Now alone, you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You didn’t regret helping Miles, but you never imagined this would be the consequence. Miguel had a right to feel betrayed yet the fact he would go this far– that he was alright with you slowly glitching out of existence – broke your heart. Miguel had never been a saint but you never imagined he could do this. Not to you. How could his love sour so quickly that he was willing to let you die rather than try to understand why you did what you did? 

No. I won’t accept that.

Miguel was just not thinking clearly after everything that had happened today. Deep down, he still loved you. He had to. Just as you still loved him despite him leaving you to die in this cage. If you could only show him that you were right and Miles was different, then maybe Miguel could forgive you for going against him. And maybe there was still hope for the two of you. Or maybe he would still want you dead. 

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

However, there was just something about this situation that made you believe in those maybes. For years you had protected the multiverse by Miguel’s side and you had never questioned his decisions or a canon event. But something in your gut– in your spider-sense –was telling you this time was different. That Miles really could break from the canon without the same consequences as the others. But you would never know unless you found a way out of this cage!

Suddenly, you remembered how Miles managed to escape the same sort of prison an hour before. You might not have his Venom Blast powers but maybe Miguel presented you with your own way to escape. Spreading your arms and legs out as far as you could, you pressed yourself against the force field so you covered as much area as you possibly could. Then you waited.

About four minutes later, it happened. You glitched again but this time, you were ready for it. Using all the strength you could muster, you fought against the glitch and kept yourself pressed against the field. As your body began to flicker and change, so did the force field. When things finally corrected themselves and you were left moaning on the floor, you opened your eyes to see what was once your cage had been transformed into a pile of random junk from across the multiverse.  

Giving it a slight push, the pile collapsed and you walked out of the remains of your prison. You were free. Now, you just had to find a way off of Earth-928 and back into the multiverse to find Miles before Miguel did. And you thought you had an idea about where to start….

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and/or rebloging! I am planning a prequel to this fic showing how Miguel and Reader met and I may also do a sequel fic to this one. If you are interested, please let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Thanks!

[sunrise-imagines]

I love your finn x reader farm world stories you've been writing. They are so good I can't stop reading them, I don't know how to ask this, And I don't know if you're still taking requests but can you write Farm World finn x reader Where the reader is from Ooo, but she looks exactly like farmworld finn' s wife And how would he react. I'm sorry if that's messed up, I like pain.

Ohhhh boy this one will be heartbreaking. Thanks for requesting! Reader uses she/her pronouns in this one

This is an AU in which Reader’s farmworld self replaces Huntress Wizard, love you HW

TW: Angst, mention of illness, mentions of death, hurt and a little comfort,

Farmworld Finn x Reader who’s his wife’s counterpart

• You had agreed to go with Fionna, Cake and Simon to find another crown and make their world magical again.

• After a close run-in with the scarab, you find yourselves in a post apocalyptic city.

• People all around you were giving you surpised looks, which only made you even more uncomfortable in this already hostile environment.

•When Jay first sees you all in the city, he can’t believe his eyes. He’s had this happen before, sometimes seeing someone with a similar hair color to his mother, only to have to remind himself that she’s gone.

•But when you turn around and he sees your face, there’s no mistaking it. It’s you. He doesn’t know how or why, but you’re here again! Tears flow down his cheeks as he struggles to keep quiet and out of sight.

•Once the Destiny gang are gone, Jay looks at you in awe before hurling himself into your arms and hugging you so hard you almost fall over.

• The three of you have to try and explain to him that, although you look like his mother, you’re not actually her, and slowly his smile starts to fade as the realization sets in.

•He agrees to take you to his dad, but is really worried about he will react.

• The five of you make your way to the small farm, where Finn is busying himself chopping logs. He wipes his brow, turning around to scold Jay for staying in the city so long. But then he sees you.

• No. This isn’t real. This is just another one of his dreams. That’s what this is. It’s just a dream. None of this is real. Any moment now he’s going to wake up, shaking in a cold sweat like he has every night for the last 3 years.

• But then you reach out and touch his arm, and he feels the warmth of your hand on his skin. You’re real. You smile awkwardly, a little unsure of what to say, “It’s Finn, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

• For the first time in years, he sheds a tear, and you instinctively you bring your hand to his cheek and wipe it away with your thumb. He brings his hand up to hold yours, feeling your soft hands against his calloused ones.

• “Who are you?” He asks, his voice shaking as if you might dissapear at any moment.

• “This is going to sound crazy, but I’m from another universe, and my friends and I need your help.”

• You try to explain yourselves to him, the fact that there are multiple universes, that you came to save Fionna and Cake’s, and that there is even an alternate version of himself. You decide to gloss over bringing up your own counterpart, having pieced together from Jay’s sadness that her fate was likely an unpleasant subject.

• He brings you all inside, and instantly the kids are all over you, crying and none of you have the heart to tell them the truth, so you play along. None of them care if it didn’t make sense, they were just happy to have their mom back.

• After a tense dinner and discussion about the crown, all of you are made to sleep in the hayloft. But after Fionna and the others have fallen asleep, you sneak out back to the house.

• You find Finn sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames as Jake lays next to him. You hesitate, debating just leaving and going to sleep, but his voice breaks the silence first.

• “I know you’re there, leave me be.” He mutters, not looking away from the flickering light. But you don’t leave, instead taking a seat next to him. Jake pads up to you and sits in your lap.

• You stay like that for awhile, the tension so thick you could cut through it, but after a little while you steel yourself and in a soft voice finally ask the question that’s been eating at your mind, “What was she like?”

• He sighs, a deep and tired breath that he’s clearly been holding in for far too long.

• Finn tells you everything, how the two of them met not long after the crown was destroyed, how she was the only one who accepting him despite his past as the Snowman. How the two fell in love, her kindness slowly melting the icy walls around his heart. How they built this house together, and not long after moving in their first son was born. How eventually their tiny family kept growing, only getting happier with each new addition. How a couple years after Bonnie was born, she started to developed a cough, and at the time she brushed it off as nothing a little rest couldn’t fix. But she kept getting worse, eventually becoming bedridden and barely able to move. How the doctors pulled him aside and told him that her prognosis wasn’t good, and while he tried to hide it from her, she already knew her time was coming. How the kids would bring her flowers and help feed her, and how she kept smiling and laughing no matter how bad the pain got. Then one day, she took his hand in hers, telling him how much she loved him and their family, and how grateful she was to have been able to be with him, if only for a little while. And then she was gone, and his world changed forever.

• After he’s done, you’re left speechless. There’s nothing you can do or say to take away the pain he’s feeling, and your presence is no doubt exacerbating it. You feel tears well up and you try to think of what you can do.

• In the end, you just put your head on his shoulder, speaking so quietly it’s almost a whisper, “I’m sorry I’m not her.”

[agent99galanzo]

Please Hear My Plea

Summary: In every lifetime, Natasha remembers you, but you must rediscover her before the curse begins anew.

---

In a quiet village under the golden glow of autumn, Natasha Romanoff sat on a weathered bench, watching as people moved through the bustling market. Despite the ordinary sights, her heart raced, an instinctual recognition pulling her attention to a familiar face in the crowd.

You. In this lifetime, you were an artist, painting the world with vibrant strokes. But you had no memory of her; to you, Natasha was just a stranger.

With each encounter, the ache grew deeper. She felt the weight of the centuries pressing down on her. In every life, they had found each other, only to be separated by the cruel hand of fate. Natasha had lived through it all, while you remained blissfully unaware of your shared history.

As the days passed, Natasha followed you, drawn to the spark in your eyes. You were passionate and carefree, and each smile felt like a flicker of light in her long, dark existence. She longed to reach out, to tell you everything, but the curse held her back—if she revealed herself too soon, it would only drive you away.

One evening, under a canopy of stars, she found the courage to approach you. “Your paintings are stunning,” she said, her voice steady yet warm.

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Thank you! I’m just trying to capture the world as I see it.”

Natasha smiled, a bittersweet pang in her chest. “You have a gift.”

Weeks turned into months, and a friendship blossomed between you. Natasha relished every moment, cherishing the time you spent together, even as she felt the impending darkness looming. The curse would strike again, and she had to find a way to break the cycle before it was too late.

One night, while sharing stories over a candlelit dinner, you asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

Natasha hesitated, her mind racing with memories of past lives. “I believe in connections that go beyond time.”

You looked thoughtful. “That sounds poetic. I think we’re all just trying to find our place in the universe.”

Her heart swelled at your words. You were so close to the truth, yet so far from knowing her. As the seasons changed, Natasha felt the familiar dread creeping in, a sense of urgency clawing at her.

When the inevitable happened—an accident, a sudden turn of fate—Natasha was there, but this time, she couldn’t save you. She watched as life faded from your eyes, a gut-wrenching pain ripping through her soul.

“No!” she screamed, desperation tearing at her. “Not again!”

---

In the aftermath, Natasha fell into despair. Time flowed endlessly, and she felt trapped in a loop of grief. But each time, she felt the flicker of hope. You would be reborn, and she would find you again.

---

In the next life, you were a writer, lost in the pages of your own imagination. Natasha recognized you immediately, but again, you didn’t remember her. Each lifetime began anew, and the curse remained unbroken. She would always seek you out, knowing that rediscovery was her only chance to save you.

As you walked the streets of the bustling city, Natasha felt the familiar pull. She approached you cautiously, “Your words have a way of capturing the heart.”

You looked up, intrigued. “Thank you! I try to weave truth into my stories.”

With every interaction, Natasha fought against the curse that bound you. She searched for ways to break it, delving into ancient texts and seeking wisdom from those who had walked the earth before her.

But time wore on, and each reunion ended the same way—too brief, too painful. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change the outcome.

---

Finally, after centuries of heartbreak, Natasha found herself at a crossroads. With each new life, she felt more desperate to keep you safe, but the curse always reset their connection.

“Tell me how to break this,” she pleaded to an ancient seer. “I can’t keep losing her!”

“Only love can transcend the cycle,” the seer warned. “But both must remember.”

---

In the next lifetime, you were a dancer, vibrant and full of life. Natasha watched from the shadows, her heart heavy with longing. She knew she needed to awaken your memories, to remind you of the love that had endured through countless ages.

One evening, as you danced under the stars, Natasha stepped forward, determination igniting her spirit. “You’re mesmerizing,” she said, her voice low and filled with emotion.

You paused, your eyes locking onto hers. “Who are you?”

“Someone who has loved you through time,” Natasha replied, her heart pounding. “Please, trust me.”

As you looked into her eyes, something flickered—an echo of recognition. But just as quickly, the moment slipped away, and you turned, leaving her once more.

---

Each time, Natasha faced the heartbreak with renewed resolve. She wouldn’t stop searching for you, wouldn’t stop trying to break the cycle. Even as the curse twisted their fates, she held onto the hope that one day, you would remember.

Through every lifetime, she would find you again, and perhaps one day, you would understand the depth of her love. No matter how long it took, Natasha would fight against fate, determined to end the cycle of loss.

Because love, she believed, could conquer all—even the bonds of eternity.

---

[mortimerc]

𝔄 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔫.

𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

Male - GN Reader x Sebastian Solace

TW : blo0d, t0rture, g0re, obsessive behaviour,

Warning: this is a smut, if you are uncomfortable with it, please don’t read nor interact with the said post. Thank you.

(Readers gender is unspecified but is with specific male organs.)

Note: I am also inexperienced with writing smut so bear with me

* ‧̍ ˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍ * 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍

It was all perfect again.

For the first time in years, you are back with your 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤. Your Sebastian. It’s a moment you both were waiting for. To be together again, never separated from each other once more.

You both were roaming the halls of the abandoned building, the Hadal Blacksite, scavenging for items to sell to prisoners for data and DNA. You both landed on an office building, chairs scattered across the room, indicating the sheer terror of the workers who were trying so desperately to escape while the lockdown was called.

“Hey look what I’ve found” Sebastian broke the silence and showed you a gummy light he had found.

“How many do you even charge people for that? Isn’t it a shit item anyways?” You questioned

“People will buy anything from me, even a wall dweller chuck. Heh.. stupid bitches.”

As you both were scavenging, Sebastian suddenly had the random existential crisis while lost in thoughts and thought of what they will do when the prisoners retrieve the crystal.

“Hey [Name],, I’ve been thinking, what if we would’ve escaped from this hellhole. I mean it’s not even living anymore. It’s just surviving.” Sebastian questions

“You know we can’t, I mean look at us, we look the we’re from hell itself. Once we step out of here, we’ll be gunned down and plus, we’re both declared dead to the people.” You hit him the hard reality.

“I know- but.-“ you suddenly hug Sebastian, him shoving his face in your chest, and you trying to stop him from continuing on with his conversation.

“I know,, i know you want to be out of here, seeing your family again. But it’s simply not possible.”

You felt warm tears staining your clothes, Sebastian lifts his head. It’s the first time you’ve seen Sebastian cry. It’s heartbreaking to see the man you always seen trying to act tough for your own sake. It angers you how you weren’t fast enough to save him from all the pain from the experiments. Nothing about this place is comforting.

You lift Sebastian’s face, making him look at you with a tear stained face. “I’m tired [Name]…”

“Im sorry,,”

As you both looked into each other’s eyes, you both soon closed the gap. As time went on, the kiss was getting heated and soon Sebastian finds himself laying on one of the office tables, papers thrown of it.

You both found yourself half naked and stripped of your clothes, your hands trailed down to a part of Sebastian’s tail and soon came across his urogenital opening and slowly rubbing your fingers against it. (ᴵ ᵃᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ)

Sebastian mewls in reaction of the action, and starts to pant.

“F-fuck-“

You forcefully grabbed his chin

“You with your filthy mouth.” You said, kissing him

You starts to insert you finger in his hole, adding more digits in the meantime.

“Go-god! Fuck!”

Sebastian lets himself to indulge in the pleasure that he is receiving, no more thinking of the past thoughts.

You put your other hand in front of Sebastian’s mouth and said “spit on it.” And he complies. You start to lube yourself.

You lined up to his hole and slowly started to push in.

“A-ah f-fuc-k! I’ve n-never felt t-this before!”

“Good to be your first”

You thrust yourself in and out of Sebastian, feeling closer to your high. You kiss Sebastian as you both finish together

“Fuck,, that was.. something.” You said while panting

Sebastian who was also panting “yeah,, no shit,,”

You soon brought him to his shop, cleaned him up and dressed him in freshly washed clothes, and you both cuddled into the night until you both fall asleep., tails curling around each other’s body.

If you need to spend your whole life here just to be with him then so be it.

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦

The end. (Thank fucking god)

Note:

Had to keep it short because I can feel myself cringing and fuckin dying inside. Imma do an exorcism real quick-

[llama529orange]

Part 1. Part 2

In this world, villains must fail for heroes to succeed. While it seems unfair, the villains work hard, striving to win every battle and succeed in the war, yet fate never seems to be on their side, causing them to fall into a deep hole of despair.

It saddened you to see your favorite villain, Riddle, from the manhwa, fall into despair and face betrayal. Watching him realize the harsh truth just before his and his mother’s heads were set to be cut off—along with everyone else involved in their tyranny—was heartbreaking. As you finished reading, you closed your phone, thinking about Riddle’s tragic fate. You wished you could give him a better future, a happier childhood, and the love he deserved. Tired, you moved to your bed, with school awaiting you the next day. As you fell asleep, you wished you could help Riddle and change his fate.

•When the sun rose, you woke up in a panic, thinking your alarm hadn’t gone off and that you were late for school. Frantically looking around, you braced yourself for the inevitable scolding from your parents, imagining them yelling until their mouths ran dry. But as you took in your surroundings, you realized something was wrong. You weren’t in your usual room. Instead, you were in a much larger, more extravagant room than you had ever seen in your life.

•"Where...where am I?" you muttered, feeling lost. "Where’s my phone?" You rushed to the window and caught a glimpse of yourself. You were in the body of the antagonist from the manhwa, now appearing as a child. "I’m definitely dreaming. Did someone drug my water?" you thought, trying to rationalize what was happening. You slapped yourself, hoping to wake up, but instead, the sting of reality hit you hard.

•Panic set in, and you stumbled out of the bed, pacing the room like a crazed person. You mumbled incoherently about your missing phone, your fanfictions, your chats, your friends, and the food you loved. You had no idea how to navigate an aristocrat’s life and were completely overwhelmed. You spiraled into a full-blown panic attack, breaking down for three hours before finally managing to calm yourself.

•After finally calming down, you sat on the bed, frozen like a statue deep in thought. You realized you had been sent back to when you and Riddle were both children—alongside your younger sister, the future heroine . “What was her name again?” you wondered, remembering Riddle’s name clearly because he was your favorite character, but struggling to recall the others. You knew the plot of the manhwa well, but the names of the characters were less important than the impending danger you faced.

•The antagonist in the manhwa, the role you now inhabited, used dirty tactics to succeed but was still fated to die. Worse yet, you remembered that the author had planned to continue the manhwa, so your future here was uncertain. Thinking quickly, you recalled how much you admired Riddle. You were a fan of his character, and you also knew that your parents had likely made a contract with the Queen for an engagement between you and Riddle, given the antagonist's status. The antagonist was known for being highly intelligent, with sharp knowledge of magic, aristocratic life, and rules. You decided to use that knowledge to save Riddle and secure your own safety.

•As the maids dressed you, fed you, and prepared you for your lessons, your parents were busy fussing over and spoiling your little sister. You didn’t mind, but you could still sense the lingering desires of the body’s previous owner—a deep yearning for love and affection, a stinging pain that made you feel guilty. You resolved to give this child the love and happy ending they deserved, silently promising, “I will give you the love you missed and the happy ending you deserve.”

•Determined, you wrote a letter proposing a study schedule with Riddle, knowing that the Queen would likely approve, as the tutor had been sent by her. You were set on helping Riddle and protecting your future in this world.

•The day arrived, hitting you like a train, yet filling you with excitement. You could feel the emotions of the body’s previous owner—nervous and afraid of the meeting, but also thrilled at the possibility of what it could mean. You were in the main room of your house, meeting with your parents, the Queen, and Riddle. Riddle, standing beside the Queen, looked at you curiously, like a cautious cat unsure of whether to approach. You smiled warmly, bowing gracefully as you’d seen in the books you read, determined to fit into aristocratic life.

•While your parents and the Queen chatted over tea, you and Riddle were sent to a room to study together. You couldn’t help but smile as you greeted him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, Riddle. Thank you for accepting my offer to study together.” Riddle looked at you shyly, his expression softening slightly. “It’s my pleasure,” he replied, his voice quiet but polite. You saw a glimpse of hope in his eyes and, feeling a surge of affection, asked him, “Do you want to play?”

•Riddle blinked, taken aback. “Play?” he echoed, his surprise evident. You could feel the confusion of the previous owner too, as though their childlike spirit was mingling with yours, but the spark of joy was undeniable. “Yes, let’s play together!” you said, your enthusiasm contagious. Riddle hesitated, remembering that he was there to study, not to play. “But… we’re supposed to study,” he murmured, glancing at the study table, piled with books.

•You leaned in closer, eyes bright with determination. “You know, playing is also a form of learning!” you insisted. Riddle’s eyes lit up, the notion of play foreign yet intriguing to him. “A form of learning…?” he repeated, almost in wonder. He looked again at the books and then at the window, the world outside calling to him in a way it never had before. Slowly, he nodded, a small smile forming on his lips as he accepted your proposal, though still unsure.

•Without hesitation, you took Riddle’s hand and led him out the window, sneaking away to the secret spot where the previous owner used to go when they wanted to be alone and cry. It had once been a place of sadness, but today, it transformed into a sanctuary of laughter as you and Riddle played. You even introduced him to a small, pink hedgehog that had made its home there, its tiny form adorable and soft. Riddle’s face flushed with delight as he marveled at the little creature, his laughter pure and uninhibited.

•For the first time, the spot that once held only tears now echoed with the joy of two children playing. And deep within you, the previous owner watched through your eyes, their presence faint but not forgotten. They laughed and smiled, feeling warmth and comfort they had longed for but never truly known. For a moment, their heart was light, touched by the happiness shared between you and Riddle.

[vaspider]

Hi spider,

While it's your right to post whatever the fuck you want on your blog, I thought you might want to hear why I'm in following (if not, just stop reading here, and thanks for all the fish).

I really like your blog, your posts and your insightful commentary, but as a closeted genderqueer person who will probably very seldom step out of the closet, it is heartbreaking to read all these accounts of transphobia. God, I *know* it's real, I face it every day, it is the only reason why I am still in the closet. At the same time, I feel like crying my eyes out for each and every of these people who had to endure unspeakable abuse.

I don't know what point you're trying to make or why you are so concerned with other people denying the existence of transphobia towards trans men, but I have to save myself from the pit of despair these posts throw me into.

I wish you health and happiness, and thanks for sharing your blog with me in the past years<3

Hi,

I actually don't want to hear it.

Please don't tell me that you're unfollowing or why. I don't care. I can't care. I physically do not have the ability to take on board the opinions of tens of thousands of people, and it wouldn't be healthy for me to do so.

If this affects you to this degree and you want to engage with the online trans community, however, you might want to engage in some active curation for your own safety. It's very easy to filter posts by trigger words - Tumblr allows you to filter words in posts and tags - so if you don't want to see posts about the transphobia that transmascs face, why, you can just add "rape," "murder," "medical misgendering," "transphobia," "terf," or any other words or phrases you like to your filters and those posts will be safely hidden away where you don't have to deal with them. Neat and tidy.

I'll continue to post about what I and other transmascs face both within the community and outside of it. If you want to opt out of hearing about it because it makes you just too sad, well... that must be nice?

But it's kinda fucking weird to tell someone facing a problem that hearing about the problems they're dealing with is just too hard on you.

Do what you have to do for yourself. I'll do the same.

Don't contact me again.

[florawrites-blog]

NCT DREAM - reasons why you and nct dream breakup hyung line

Genre: angst , heartbreak , the members might be mean a bit.

Warning: Not proof-read

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

Mark Lee - He chose his career over you

We all know how overworked Mark is and how it effects his life and day to day activities sometimes it gets to hard for him to manage his personal life and his work that both of you get distanced and it just started to feel like he wasn't there anymore messages left delivered calls unanswered plans cancelled that unfortunately you just ended up feeling like you were the only one trying in the relationship and as much as you knew he doesn't mean that to happen it was just not enough so eventually it had to come to a end but both of you stay in good terms even after the breakup.

Haung renjun - Fell out of love

You and renjun always had a deep strong connection that people always payed attention too it was like you both had your own secret language like both of you were on a different universe and people were just there but these past day's you've noticed some change in his attitude he'd pay less attention to you or just gets genuinely irritated by everything you'd do and when you try to face him about it he would step away and just like he steps away everytime you stepped away from his life.....

Lee jeno - commitment issues

Okay personal opinion I feel like jeno wouldn't wanna settle for a relationship or even if he did there would be some issues in stepping up the relationship jeno loves you so much but he just can't see your relationship going any further then where it is right now or maybe he can but he just isn't ready to commit to the next step which effects the relationship resulting in both of you leaving each other.

Lee haechan - can't move on from his ex

Haechan had a very hard time trying to forget about his ex he tried forgetting her by rotting his brain with alcohol and by getting high until one day when he was heavily drunk he saw you sitting there drinking and from that day he could've sworn that you were a guardian angel sent from heaven to save him but one day he was scrolling down his socials and he stumbled upon his ex's account and that just messed up his brain and ruined what you have built together.

[hippolotamus]

When will I see you again? - Eddietommy

My love, my darling. I need you to know that real tears were shed in the making of this snippet. May I present WW2 Staff Sgts Diaz and Kindard (partially under the cut to save your dash):

“When will I see you again?” Eddie asks. The tremble in his voice betrays the stoic persona he needs right now. No matter how much his heart leaps every time he sees Tommy, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re both still owned by the US Army and Uncle Sam. That if anyone knew the nature of their relationship, they’d be dishonorably discharged and run out of town. Assuming they weren’t beaten to death first. 

“Not sure.” Tommy shrugs. Like none of this means a damn thing. “Shit, I don’t even know where I’m headed.”

“No girl waiting for you at home?” It’s meant to be joking, to ease the tension, but it falls flat like Eddie should have known it would.

“You know damn well there’s not,” Tommy murmurs, sending him an icy glare. He quickly schools his features. “But I’m sure they’ll make me find one. Not like a guy can just be a bachelor and live his life.”

And that’s the thing that rips Eddie into a thousand pieces more than having to say goodbye. Knowing that they’ll both have to transition into some sort of domestic life. Pretend they didn’t just endure three years of pure hell fighting off the Axis powers. That they aren’t at least a little fucked from the neck up. Pretend that they never fell in love. 

The first time Tommy kissed him, Eddie froze, unsure whether to kiss him back or run like hell. He knew what he wanted to do. The thing he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on Staff Sgt Kinard of the US Army Air Forces division. So he did. He grabbed Tommy by the shirt and hauled him in for a bruising kiss. Not unlike the one they had shared barely ten minutes before, in the secrecy of an abandoned office. Like they’ll never share again, it seems. 

“Staff Sergeant Diaz!” 

Eddie whips around toward the voice, standing ramrod straight and saluting when he sees it’s a superior officer. “Sir, yes, Sir!”

“Bus is heading out in five. Your ass better be on it if you don’t want to be left in this godforsaken hellhole.”

“Yes, Sir, Master Sergeant!” The officer walks away and Eddie relaxes his body. He swallows hard, forcing himself to look at Tommy. He wants to memorize every goddamn line on his face, like he hasn’t done it dozens of times before in the cover of darkness. “I guess this is it.”

Something passes over Tommy’s face so quickly, there and gone before Eddie can parse what it means. “Yeah, guess it is.” 

Tommy searches the crowd, calling out when he finds who he’s looking for. “Deluca! Over here.”

Jealousy, vicious and green, rears its ugly head and snaps its jaws in the confines of Eddie’s ribcage as Deluca jogs over. 

“What?” Sal snaps. In lieu of an answer, Tommy grabs the cigarette pack from Sal’s jacket pocket. He takes one for himself, lights it and shoves the pack back at Sal. 

“Beat it, Deluca,” Tommy says on an exhale. Eddie can’t pretend he isn’t happy when Sal huffs and storms off. 

He turns to Tommy and raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” Tommy answers. He meets Eddie’s gaze with those bright sky blue eyes that Eddie wants to stay lost in. Tommy’s voice drops low for his next words. If only it were possible to lower their accompanying intensity and heartbreak. “Just needed something to get the taste of you out of my mouth. Can’t very well watch you leave and still have that behind. May as well cut my losses all at once.”

Eddie thinks Tommy could have cut his heart out and it would have hurt less. He starts to tell him so when there’s another bellow from the bus, reminding Eddie that he’s out of time. 

“When you figure out where home is, maybe don’t forget to write?” It’s a desperate plea and a long shot, but Eddie has to try for something. 

“Don’t miss your bus, Diaz.”

There are so many things Eddie could say or do. The only ones he can follow through on are giving Tommy a tight nod before he walks away. 

He purposely finds a window seat where he won’t be able to watch as Tommy fades from view. From his life. Because they both know damn well Tommy’s not gonna write. And Eddie doesn’t trust himself to stay composed if he sees Tommy’s stupidly gorgeous face. From here on out Staff Sergeant Thomas Kinard is just a memory. Has to be. One more piece of this stupid war that Eddie would rather never have to think of again. 

*****

Tommy watches Eddie’s bus pull away. He should have turned around the second Eddie did and gone back to checking his effects. But he didn’t because he’s stupid that way. Because he’s been a sucker for Edmundo Diaz since he kissed Tommy back in that underground club. The one Eddie claimed that he didn’t know why he was there. Tommy did. He knew as soon as Eddie stepped inside, wide-eyed and scared like a newborn fawn. 

He also knew he had to get to him first because he wasn’t going to let just anyone claim then Corporal Diaz. If anyone tried, Tommy couldn’t be held responsible for what happened. Eddie was his, even if neither of them were ready to admit it yet. 

He thinks again of Eddie’s parting words, asking Tommy to write when he figures out where home is. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? The secret he’ll carry to his grave. Because he doesn’t have to figure it out. Home hasn’t been a geographical location in years. Of course he knows exactly what address he’ll go to when he gets dumped back in California, and it sure as shit isn’t home. 

Home is in encoded conversations. It’s in stolen moments and glances. Bits of time they took for themselves because nobody was ever going to give it to them. It’s in hushed whispers about a future that’s never going to come true. In biting truths and scared, too honest confessions. Home just walked out of Tommy’s life and left on a shitty army bus bound for Texas. 

send me an angsty prompt

[jeeyuns]

walk with me y'all: chim sees how much buck's sad sack state improves each time he babysits or does activities with jee (because she's obviously made up of the BEST parts of a buckley and a han, be SO forreal) and casually schedules for buck to come over on friday for the newly minted 'han household holiday hullabaloo'

wherein the hans and one mopey buck get to snacking on appropriately-themed holiday food while watching 'the santa clause'. jee falls asleep before the next movie on the meticulous list chimney put together begins: 'love actually'. he gets a side eye from BOTH maddie and buck for slightly different reasons but then maddie gets up to quickly put jee to bed (this is apparently buck's first time watching the movie, even though it's tommy's fa-)

and buck is looking slightly less dour while bill nighy keeps flubbing 'christmas is all around'. he gets pulled into the charm of the 10 different plotlines surrounding heartbreak and wonder around love and christmas. around the 7th time chimney surreptitiously glances over, buck has a faintly whimsical look on his face while writer jamie stiffly learns portuguese in the crowded night languages class and tries to hide his smile. he MAY be a little too transparent because maddie nudges him hard with her toes

the patented hyperfocused state that chim has seen buck get into at times over the years gradually seeps in in the way his posture changes and his eyes track the grand gestures playing out on screen over the swell of the sweeping score. the popcorn bowl in his lap has been neglected for the past 12 minutes and chimney ALMOST wants to trade it for jee's tiny sparkly princess clipboard just to see if buck will start taking down the notes he so obviously has running rampant through his brain

chimney holds back a full-belly, knee slapping laugh until after buck goes through the song and dance of leaving, trying and failing to hide just how unfocused on the present he is, thoughts thousands of miles and 20-odd years away with the characters from the movie. he tells buck to text them when he's home and turns around to maddie's long-suffering eye roll and affectionate kiss on the nose before she sashays off to her own nighttime routine

he waits until AFTER he's cleaned up the living room and kitchen after their weekly movie night (he has restraint!) to open up the text thread he has with tommy. right below the read receipt to his "You called him Buck!?" he writes:

"I'm telling you this because I'm one of your long-term friends who knows you try to hide how surprises can make you feel uncomfortable no matter how much you try to hide how grateful you are of the act.

Buck is probably going to awkwardly Andrew Lincoln you Keira Knightley christmas carolers style OR earnestly Colin Firth you Portuguese cafe style. You're welcome and now you owe me double-time for saving your life.

'Just in cases' xoxo"

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Fandom: Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara, f!Reader Summary: You went against the man you loved and helped Miles escape. Now you must face Miguel's wrath. Word Count: 1821 TW: Angst, Betrayal, Anger, Glitching, Left for Dead, Miguel has a temper Notes: I told myself I wasn't going to get sucked into writing for this movie, but this idea wouldn't stop nagging at my brain so here you go!

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

As you watched Miles disappear in a flash of the Go Home machine, you couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, you had been afraid that he wasn’t going to make it. That despite everything you, Hobie, and Margo had done to help him, Miguel was going to stop him before he could escape. But he got to go home to try and save his father. He had a chance.

However, the smile slowly faded from your face as Miguel roared and ripped the arm off of the Go Home machine. You had been so focused on getting Miles off of Earth-928 that you hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. This was going to be bad.

The room had filled with other Spider-people who had all been involved in the chase for Miles and they all just stared at Miguel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margo’s avatar disappear and you sighed in relief. At least she would escape Miguel’s fury. 

Right now, his focus had turned towards Gwen. As they began yelling back and forth at one another and Miguel dragged her into the Go Home machine, you started to back out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. While part of you wanted to run to Gwen’s aid, she was being sent back to her own universe. It was heartbreaking to watch– especially knowing what was going to happen to her father when she returned –however, she was getting off easy considering her part in getting Miles involved in the Spider-Society in the first place. Things could have been a lot worse for her. As they would probably be for you if you didn’t let Miguel cool down for a while before confronting him.

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Red webs coiled around your arms and legs pinning them to your body and making you fall to the floor. Before you could try to squirm your way out, Miguel yanked hard and you flew backwards into him. He caught your chin with one large hand, his nails sharpening into claws and digging painfully into your skin as he held you off the ground. 

His red eyes flashed dangerously as he roared in your face, “Did you think I wouldn’t see you trying to slink away? You helped him escape! You! Of the hundreds of us in the Spider-Society, you were the last one I ever imagined turning against me.”

“I haven’t turned against you, Miguel. You know I love you too much to ever do that.” With your face still pinned in his grasp, you tried your best to keep your expression calm and non-confrontational. You knew how he got when he was like this and it was better to not get him even more agitated. However, your voice remained firm and unwavering. “But right now, you’re letting your past cloud your judgment and you’re not thinking clearly. I was just trying to–”

“He’s trying to alter a second canon event! We still haven’t dealt with what he did in Mumbattan and you just let him get away to do it again!” He bared his sharp teeth at you as he growled deep in his throat. In all your years together as friends or as lovers, you had never once feared Miguel would hurt you…. until this moment. All reason seemed to have left him and all you saw when you looked at his face was fury and pain. There was no trace of the man you loved before you.

Trying to keep the quiver out of your voice, you calmly said, “You said it yourself. Miles is an anomaly. He was never supposed to be one of us so who’s to say he has to uphold the canon events? From what I can tell, the Peter Parker of that world already lost his captain before he died. So maybe Miles has a chance none of us ever got. Maybe he doesn’t have to bear this loss like the rest of us. Maybe he can change his fate.”

“‘Maybe! Maybe! Maybe’! You risked the lives of an entire universe on maybe!” Miguel’s grip on your face tightened and you mewled slightly as his claws broke skin. “Whether or not he was supposed to be Spider-Man, he is now. And that means he must follow the canon. If he was different than the rest of us, he wouldn’t have already lost his uncle.”

“Or may– possibly becoming the Prowler is what got that Aaron Davis killed, not because he was Miles’s uncle.” You tried to reach up to stroke Miguel’s cheek, to calm some of his anger, but your hands were still pinned to your side by his webs. “Miguel, don’t do this. I’m begging you. Please, let Miles try. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, Miguel’s fury faded from his face until there was nothing left but pain. Pain that you knew you had caused. He lowered you to the floor and loosened his grip on your face though he didn’t release you. Then, as he stared deeply into your eyes, he spoke in an agonized whisper. “I did trust you. I would have gone to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for you. I gave you my heart even after I swore never to open myself up to anyone again but you turned your back on me the first chance you had.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squirmed against the webs, desperate to touch him. To hold him and make him feel that your love for him never wavered. “You know that’s not true. I’ve stood by your side from the very beginning. I’ve loved you and helped you build this Society so we could uphold the canon across hundreds of universes. But I just… I just couldn’t stand by this time and not at least give Miles a chance to try and save someone he loves. I’m sorry.”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

His claws slashed through his webbing, freeing your limbs. But before you could move, Miguel grabbed your arm, ripped your portal watch from your wrist, and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Still holding your arm, he tossed you across the room. You crashed into the floor and slid another dozen feet or so on your side. And just as you slowed to a stop, you glitched as this unfamiliar universe attacked your cells. 

You felt like your body was simultaneously being compressed and stretched in a hundred directions at once. When the glitch ended, you let out a small whimper but the sound didn’t cull Miguel’s rage any. Even as you lay in a heap on the ground, he tossed a disk in your direction and suddenly a red transparent field surrounded you. 

Unable to believe he was really doing this to you, you called out to him but he ignored your plea. Instead, he turned his back on you and growled, “Jess, Ben, come with me. And somebody catch Spot.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

Ben fell in behind him, but Jess hesitated, her hand reaching out towards you. But you shook your head. Miguel had judged you and once that happened, no one could change his mind. Jess had too much to lose by trying to help you and despite hating to see her leaving to track Miles down, you knew she was just as trapped now as you were. So, reluctantly, she turned and followed Miguel and Ben into the portal.

Now alone, you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You didn’t regret helping Miles, but you never imagined this would be the consequence. Miguel had a right to feel betrayed yet the fact he would go this far– that he was alright with you slowly glitching out of existence – broke your heart. Miguel had never been a saint but you never imagined he could do this. Not to you. How could his love sour so quickly that he was willing to let you die rather than try to understand why you did what you did? 

No. I won’t accept that.

Miguel was just not thinking clearly after everything that had happened today. Deep down, he still loved you. He had to. Just as you still loved him despite him leaving you to die in this cage. If you could only show him that you were right and Miles was different, then maybe Miguel could forgive you for going against him. And maybe there was still hope for the two of you. Or maybe he would still want you dead. 

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

However, there was just something about this situation that made you believe in those maybes. For years you had protected the multiverse by Miguel’s side and you had never questioned his decisions or a canon event. But something in your gut– in your spider-sense –was telling you this time was different. That Miles really could break from the canon without the same consequences as the others. But you would never know unless you found a way out of this cage!

Suddenly, you remembered how Miles managed to escape the same sort of prison an hour before. You might not have his Venom Blast powers but maybe Miguel presented you with your own way to escape. Spreading your arms and legs out as far as you could, you pressed yourself against the force field so you covered as much area as you possibly could. Then you waited.

About four minutes later, it happened. You glitched again but this time, you were ready for it. Using all the strength you could muster, you fought against the glitch and kept yourself pressed against the field. As your body began to flicker and change, so did the force field. When things finally corrected themselves and you were left moaning on the floor, you opened your eyes to see what was once your cage had been transformed into a pile of random junk from across the multiverse.  

Giving it a slight push, the pile collapsed and you walked out of the remains of your prison. You were free. Now, you just had to find a way off of Earth-928 and back into the multiverse to find Miles before Miguel did. And you thought you had an idea about where to start….

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and/or rebloging! I am planning a prequel to this fic showing how Miguel and Reader met and I may also do a sequel fic to this one. If you are interested, please let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Thanks!

[html-nae]

T R A P S O U L

42!Miles x fem!OC

Beginning of the 42!Miles x fem!OC series

WC: 1055

Sometimes she wished he knew. But she tried so hard to disguise the truth, he walked around with a bright smile that lit up the room so she acted like she was happy. She sat there day after day, thinking.

Wondering.

If his mind played this game too. Thinking about him and her. Miles and Harmony. Together. Not Miles and Gwen.

The girl that was the complete opposite of Harmony.

Short blonde hair with one side shaved instead of long dark brown goddess braids.

Bright blue eyes instead of honey brown eyes.

Pale skin instead of deep brown skin.

A spider person instead of a normal student in Brooklyn.

In a completely different dimension instead of dimension 1610.

Even though they were completely different. They both shared one same factor. They were both crushing on the hopeless dork that manages to be late to everything and charm his way out of trouble. The same lanky kid that swings around the cities in New York and save countless lives. The same kid that buries his head in one of his many sketchbooks and fills the pages with the same thing.

Gwen Stacy.

Harmony decided to pretend that her feelings didn’t exist to save her the heartbreak and embarrassment of crushing on her best friend. At least until it all made sense.

Yeah. That’ll work.

“Harmony?” Miles called out, waving his hand in front of her face to bring her back to reality. “You listening?”

Harmony shot him a small smile and nodded as he continued on with his rant about how the new ‘villain of the week’ he encountered earlier that day and soon derailing into what Gwen would do.

Seeing him face to face and realizing how different everything had changed made her think about the days they used to be. When they would sit on this same roof top and watch the sunset. Like they are now. Except it was full of laughter and it wasn’t a one sided conversation. It wasn’t about the ‘villain of the week’ or ‘the one that got away’. It was always about art and the new album that came out earlier in the week or debates about which pizza place was the best or what Jordans would look better with whatever outfit they could put together. That was before everything changed.

Before Miles became the friendly neighborhood hero. Before his Uncle Aaron died. Before the multiverse was at stake. Before Miles fell for Gwen.

Don’t make a scene. Don’t make a scene.

Harmony thought while holding in an annoyed breath.

“Harmony? What’s wrong?” Miles asked. He looked concerned. It made her a little happy.

At least he still cares.

“Nothing Morales. Worry about your own.” She said, pushing his shoulder and laughing.

I’m trying not to make it seem like I want you. Even if it’s true.

“If you say so Harmony.” He said with a smile, turning back to look off into the city.

Harmony. Not Ny Ny or Ny or any of the stupid nicknames he came up with when they were younger. Just Harmony. Boring and plain Harmony.

She watched the sun sit on his skin, it made her feel warm and fuzzy. She remembered when they used to have sleepovers at his house. Smushed on his twin sized bed, reading comic books together all night not realizing until the sun came up. But that didn’t matter, because they were happy. Comfortable.

Harmony Jones wanted to stay in the world they created. The world that they filled with Uncle Aaron’s music, Mama Rio’s cooking, Papa Davis’ jokes, and Miles’ art. But that world was gone now. She believed that nothing and nobody would break the bond they had. She believed that she couldn’t find anyone that would get her like Miles so she never went out looking for anything. Never had a boyfriend. Or any situations like it. All she needed was Miles.

Sure, Harmony had other friends. But at the end of the day the only one she knew she could fall back on was Miles Morales. The boy from down the street that would put bandaids on her scraped knees when she would fall playing basketball. The boy that would write letters to her in class when she was having a bad day. The boy that would always give her his full attention when she wanted or needed it.

“Harmony. What are you thinking about?” Miles stopped talking a while ago when he realized his friend wasn’t listening to him like she said she was. Harmony was always lost in thought and he had to give it to her. She had him beat.

“Nothing.” She responded.

“Harmony. I need you to be honest with me. You’re always switching up. Well, not switching up, but you’re lost in thought a lot and that isn’t like you. I’m worried about you.”

He looked concerned. He really did. He was worried about his friend.

“It’s nothing Miles. Swear. I’m just worried about this exam coming up.”

Lies.

He believed it though.

And she believed that they would be good. Except she had to accept the fact that they’ve been done. Long before anything begun. They weren’t together, they never were and they probably never will be.

Harmony Jones lets him lead her on. The times he came crawling through her window, battered and bruised pleading for help so he doesn’t have to explain to his parents why he looks the way he does. It ends with him falling asleep in her bed. An arm around her waist and his head buried in her neck. Along with him gone before the morning comes.

It was a continuous thing. She was used to it. Did she want to get used to it? No, but it was as close as she was going to get to anything with Miles. He leaned on her and she leaned on him. Even if that meant having to listen to him gush about some girl that was only here for three days then gone for the next year and a half without a single word.

Even if it meant having to be there and have her heart torn in two while she watched Miles fall for someone that wasn’t her.

All because she disguised the truth and let her mind play this game.

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