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pboogerswbb · 7 months ago

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TOO LOST IN YOU - part I (reupload)

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Dislaimer: player!p is very present in this fic so please do not read if that bothers you. this is not a true depiction of what i think paige is like but merely a character

Warnings: toxic!p, SMUT, language

Wordcount: 6.2K

A/N: if you're looking at this like it looks familiar... it's because it is. i'm reuploading because i accidentally deleted part 1 which had almost 800 notes sooo uh yeah ANYWAYS go enjoy this and the other parts, perhaps it's a good time for a re-read before the final part?

“Yo I’m about to get fucked up tonight” A strong voice comes through from the bar entrance.

I would recognize that voice anywhere. Before I even lift my gaze I’m brought back to the memories of her talking into my ear mid shift, hands on my waist, soft whispers in my ear telling me how good I looked. Or the flashing images of her in my bed on top of me, sweat dripping down her back, talking me through it inbetween groans. The images I replayed over and over in my head, a lot more than I’d like to admit - more than was okay for someone who had called the whole thing off between us anyway.

In a panic I quickly bent down to hide behind the bar, pretending that scrubbing the sticky liquor stains off the floor was of the utmost importance. All just to get away from having to serve her.

“Hey, can you get this one, I’m dying for a break” Natalie, my co-worker, says - clueless to the hiding or the cause of it. For a moment I consider faking a heart attack, throwing a glass at her, or simply screaming “no”. But her round eyes (and the fact I needed to keep this job to pay the bills) softened me. With a deep breath I nod and stand up behind the bar, as Natalie walks off. Leaving me face to face with her.

She’s standing in front of me - Paige. It had been weeks since I had seen her last, doing everything in my power to avoid her. My eyes can’t help it though when they travel from her long fingers to her veiny hands to her broad shoulders that I swear had filled out even more in the weeks I hadn’t seen her. My gaze roams over her neck and my knees almost buckle at the memory of burying my head there, leaving open mouthed kisses on her pale skin.The way it bruised and reddened. The navy blue Uconn trackies made her skin even brighter, and I swear she glowed a little. Finally, my eyes land on her bright blue eyes that are already staring at me, heavy lidded, needy even. The way always looked when she made her way to my dorm in the middle of the night, needing me.

Her eyes widen. “Oh… didn’t know you were working today” Paige says. It’s a lie. It’s clear in the strain of her voice, the way her fingers twitch. Last time we talked I told her I never wanted to see her again. But right now as she towered over me forcing me to tilt my head up to meet her gaze, I nearly forgot why.

“Whatchu want?” I ask, ignoring her statement already instinctively reaching for the grenadine. I knew her too well to pretend anything else. My stomach twisted uncomfortably thinking about how we had left things between us.

Paige pretends to think. “Uhh… a dirty shirley.” Her words are slightly slurred. She’d already been drinking. I move my eyes away from hers, unable to take the severity of her stare. The tension is broken, however, by a very drunk KK crashing into Paige and leaning over the bar. “also shots” KK adds and nudges Paige who smiles weakly, her eyes never leaving mine. With the way she looked I might’ve thought she had missed me - but I knew better. Paige Bueckers did not yearn for any girl. Certainly not me.

I smile widely at KK. “You wanna be more specific?” I ask, making the shirley with a rehearsed ease. I had made quite a few since Paige had taken a liking to me earlier in the year, coming over to Ted’s almost every night, sitting in the corner with her teammates watching me, tipping me way too much with that smug grin of hers. It would’ve pissed me off if she wasn’t so insanely, out of this world hot.

“Anything strong” KK snorts and I let out a chuckle, reaching for the vodka. “You got it.”

I set the drinks on the counter but Paige is quick to grab hers, her fingertips pressing into mine for just a moment. I nearly whimper at the contact, seeing how Paige’s jaw flexes and cheeks blush. She felt it as much as I did, the tension from the last time we slept together.

“Thanks…” Paige murmurs uncharacteristically quiet. KK rolling her eyes and scoffing, grabs the shots for her and the team. “Bro” KK shakes her head at the interaction, leaving the blonde alone with me to pay. I try to ignore the burn between my legs, watching her long fingers shuffling through cash in her wallet. It would take a gun for me to admit I had been thinking about those fingers during lonely nights and fuck, even nights spent with other people. No matter what no one ever measured up to how those fingers knew exactly what to do, which buttons to push.

“Keep the rest, ma” Paige says, snapping me out of my daydream. My mind is too hazy to take in the nickname. I can’t get a single word out before she’s already turning away, dirty shirley in hand and a stupid grin on her face. She had got to me and she was enjoying every moment.

–

Paige dangled over the bar, her eyes wide and searching, finally setting on me walking out from the back. She’s pushing her blonde hair off her face with a sloppy, uncoordinated movement, clearly feeling the alcohol. I stop her before she can speak though.

“If you want another one you gotta ask Natalie, I’m off my shift” I tell Paige, refusing to give her my attention the way she wanted.

“I know, you’re off this time every week” Paige chuckles and leans forward against her elbows on the bar. She was in a Uconn tee now, her biceps flexing, making me want to groan out loud. “we should talk.”

“We really shouldn’t” I say sternly, taking off the nametag I had been wearing. “pretty sure I said I never wanted to talk to you again.”

“Sure and you also called me a bitch but never stopped us from fucking before either” Paige says, a slight annoyance in her voice for not having me wrapped around her finger like she used to. She’s licking on her grenadine stained lips, chasing my gaze. I finally meet hers, ignoring the aching I felt looking at her, looking at me. I knew how this ended up unless I left. Now.

“I have class tomorrow” i sigh, walking around the bar towards the exit and throwing on my jacket. Before I know it Paige’s hand grips my arm holding me still. I can smell her around me. Grenadine and alcohol sure, but also the scent of her. The scent I looked for everywhere. Her eyes were pleading, like I was water and she was on fire. I almost forgot why I hated her, just for a second.

“Lemme drive you ma” Paige pleads.

“You can’t drive, you're drunk” I say, brushing her hand off of me. A feeble attempt as Paige’s free arm quickly snakes around my waist and pulls me in, her scent so strong now it’s making me dizzy.

“But I need to talk to you, been driving me crazy” She murmurs with a slight whine in her voice. For a moment I waver, her hand firmly on the small of my back, all her height towering over me. It made my head spin.

Paige takes it as a sign and leans closer, pulling me in tighter but I place my hand on her chest holding her back, suddenly aware of how empty the bar was and how the most famous person on campus probably shouldn’t be doing this in public. I notice the way her chest is heaving, mine doing the same. The fabric of the shirt underneath my fingertips felt all sorts of wrong, I needed it off of her immediately. No, I had to be stronger than this.

But I wasn’t.

“Do you need a ride back to campus?” I ask her, swallowing. The way her tongue slides over her lower lip as she watches me forces a deep blush to set on my face.

“Yeah, bad” Paige murmurs and I push her hands off me, wordlessly heading to the door with Paige following close behind. She hurries past me to open the car door for me. I would think it was sweet if I didn’t know that it was just one of her plays. One of the ways she made girls like me think she actually cared. She didn’t. She just wanted to fuck.

The air is tense as I start the car, praying Paige doesn’t notice the slight tremble of my hand. I’m not sure if it’s anger from what she did to me, or how weak her touch had made me feel. Paige slouches on the passenger seat, watching me with hooded eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. Her legs were spread wide apart, sweatpants pulled low enough for her Nike Pros to peak through. For a second all I want to do is pull the car up and climb on top of her and from the smirk on Paige’s face I can tell she’s having the exact same thoughts.

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say with a slight shake in my voice.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on her seat.

“i just remember how bad i wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car swirls on the road as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car.

“Get out” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after what she did, how bad it had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter.

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, getting on my knees to lean over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifted, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to Storrs, the streets quiet on the dark tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with.

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her.

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, the grey Uconn tee hiking up just enough for the skin on her lower abdomen to peek out as I park the car. There’s a moment of silence, Paige staring at me intently.

“Look, I-” she starts but I quickly climb out of the car, not wanting to hear it. She’s quick to follow me though, her long limbs catching up to me quickly.

“Ma, c’mon-”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, doing my best to sound stern as I head towards my dorm walking as fast as I could, Paige right next to me. The campus was empty, most students already in their dorms, spending the night in.

“Bro you gotta listen to me-”

“No I don’t, you got your ride now fuck off!” I yelp, entering the building as Paige holds the door open, still persistent on following me. “You said you’d keep your mouth shut so… keep it shut Paige.”

“Well… I lied” She murmurs still on my tail all the way to my door, watching me struggle with the lock, my hands shaky from the mix of anger and how bad the need between my legs had grown for her. Paige reaches over, unlocking the door for me, her hands brushing against mine. I close my eyes and sigh - I really had to get it together.

“Well yeah you do that huh,” I chuckle bitterly entering my dorm, Paige leaning against the doorframe, not letting me lock her out.

Paige chuckles and shakes her head. “Bro you’re being so dramatic, we both knew what this was when we got into it. It’s not like you didn’t fuck around too!” Paige raises her voice, slightly amused, slightly bitter.

The truth was, I hadn’t slept around. Since Paige first fucked me, she took over me, consumed me. I would never admit this to her but I couldn’t even think about anyone else.

“God, you can be such a bitch I swear to-” I groan loudly, rolling my eyes but Paige interrupts me, stepping into my room.

“Me?! You’re the most psycho bitch I ever met-”

“Psycho bitch?!” I’m screaming now, my body hot with rage. “It was you who told me you weren’t fucking anyone else with some other bitch’s bra under your bed! Not me!”

Paige groans and shuts the door behind her, throwing her head back in frustration. “It’s just something people say! You were in those purple panties too ma, I’m not responsible for the shit I say when you wear those,” Paige argues. I chuckle, turning to face her. She was staring at me, heavy lidded and jaw sharper than usual from biting her teeth together. Paige was getting pissed off, wondering if any pussy was worth this much trouble.

“You’re a fucking sociopath P!” I yell at her as she takes a step towards me, her eyes darkening. The blue in her eyes nearly gone from the way her pupils were blown out.

Paige grins smugly at me, licking her lower lip, looking me up and down. “Yeah? What else?” she says smugly, her big hands coming to hold me by my waist. The moment my eyes meet hers I knew it was over for me. Suddenly my legs felt weak, and my head spun.

“An asshole too,” I sigh, my voice breathy and more quiet. My body was immediately responding to her touch, Paige’s fingertips sliding underneath the hem of my shirt sending goosebumps everywhere.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, with a smug tone. I nearly fall over.

“Yeah,” I repeat, my chest heaving.

“That’s too bad ma…” Paige murmurs, her eyes roaming from my eyes to my lips to my body.

I furrow my brows, fighting to not let out a whimper as her fingertips rubbed up and down against my sides, carefully over each rib. Up and down.

“It’s too bad because I’ve been dying to fuck you,” She says with a low voice, eyes returning to meet mine. “Shit baby, watching you tonight, the way your ass looks in those jeans? Fucking killing me,” she adds shaking her head. Paige’s hand drifts down from my waist to my hips, all the way to my ass. Gripping it hard, hungrily with a groan.

I can’t fight the whimper that spills from my lips, the way my eyes flutter shut just for a moment. Paige grins, watching my reaction. She pulls me closer by my ass, my body pressing against hers as she towers over me. Paige leans down, nuzzling her nose against my ear. And I don’t stop her, biting my lip, feeling the way my panties were growing damp already. Only Paige could have this kind of effect on me - one touch and a few words and that grin and I was hers. She knew it as well as I did and I hated her for it.

I was too weak to hate her right now though. Too far gone.

“But since you hate me so bad…” Paige whispers into my ear, her lips brushing against it as she left a few wet kisses right under it. “I should probably leave.”

In a haze I reach up to wrap my hands around her, my hand pressing against the back of her neck to keep her there. To make sure she didn’t go.

“No…” I nearly whine. Paige chuckles against my neck, kissing it slow and soft. Her hand kneads my ass again, like she had been dying to feel it..

“No? You want me to stay?” She says, teasing.

“Want you to stay,” I murmur, tilting my head to the side, my eyes shut now.

“Want me to get you right ma?” Paige asks hoarsely. My body feels like putty as she holds me against her, like she could do whatever and I could do nothing but watch. I didn’t feel in control. I never did with her.

“Y-yes,” I finally admit with a sigh.

Paige pulls away from my neck, her lips ghosting mine. Her breathing was heavy. She needed this just as bad as I did.

“Attagirl,” she murmurs and finally presses her lips against mine. I moan against her, Paige’s lips slide against mine hungrily - like all these weeks apart she had been underwater and I was air. She could finally breathe.

With a swift movement, Paige pulls my shirt off, leaving me in a bra and jeans as her lips return to mine with a groan. Paige’s tongue slides against my lower lip, begging for access. I open my mouth, my tongue meeting hers, my hands pulling on her t-shirt, feeling the muscles on her abdomen, earning a small whine from her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers and walks me back without breaking the kiss. The backs of my legs hit the edge of my bed, forcing me to fall over. Paige watches me hungrily, her mouth ajar just slightly as her eyes roamed my body. “So fucking sexy,” she groans, pulling her shirt off over her head before climbing on top of me in her sports bra.

Paige starts kissing my neck roughly, sucking and nibbling enough to leave bruises to remind me of her later. Her leg finds its way between my legs, quickly pressing against my core as her free hand roams my side, fingers sliding underneath my bra and kneading my breast.

“Fuck, P…” I whimper arching my back off the bed. The friction provided by her leg was the opposite of relieving, making me more aware of all the layers between our bodies. “Need these off,” I murmur breathlessly, my hands pulling the blue sweatpants down desperately as Paige’s open mouth moved from my neck to my jaw.

“Whatever you want baby,” she whispers, kicking off her pants. She was now on top of me in a sports bra and Nike pros, a silver chain dangling against my chest. Paige leans back a little, eyes roaming my body, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe I was real. Her blonde hair was down and tousled from the way I had been gripping it as she grabs a hair tie from her wrist, tying it back messily, licking her lips.

“Baby, I need to taste you or I might die.”

With that Paige brings her lips back to my neck, making her way down with a trail of wet, sloppy kisses between my breasts, down my stomach, my hip bones, her hands unbuttoning my jeans, shaky with need.

I watch as she gets on her knees on the floor between my legs, watching my face as she pulls down my jeans painfully slowly. I buck my hips, needing her mouth on me so bad I felt lightheaded. Paige’s hands pin my hips down with a grin, eyes moving to my panties and the visible spot that had grown wetter under her gaze.

“Fuuuckk ma,” she groans, finally bringing her lips to my core, kissing over my panties.

I gasp and grip the sheets beside me, trying to buck my hips closer but Paige shakes her head, still holding my hips still. “Thought you hated me,” she murmurs against my core. I wanted to cry, needing her lips on my bare skin. The feel of her mouth through my panties wasn’t enough.

“I do,” I whine, squirming in frustration, throbbing with need. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But when she was between my legs, pinning me down, a chain on her neck and that smirk on her face, I simply couldn’t.

Paige brings her hand to my hip, finally pulling my panties down to my ankles, her eyes never leaving my core. With a bite of her lip, she brings her finger to my cunt, already soaked, all for her. Her fingertip presses against my clit menacingly, enough to make me gasp.

“If you hate me so much then why are you this wet huh?” Paige teases with a gravelly voice starting to circle my clit slowly, drawing out whimpers from my lips. My legs immediately trembled, and I watched her with heavy eyes and furrowed brows, nearly unable to think yet alone speak.

“You’ve been such a bitch all night shoulda known you just needed to be fucked,” she chuckles, pressing her fingers harder against my clit, making me let out a moan. It had been weeks since we last did this yet the way she touched me seemed practised and effortless, like she had been doing it every single day of her life.

“Fuck you,” I moan arching my back as Paige bit on my inner thigh, the veins in her forearm turning visible from the strain of rubbing my clit.

“Nah ma,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I’mma fuck you. Just need to taste this pussy first,” Paige groans and leans over, both her hands gripping my inner thighs harshly, forcing them apart as she dives in face first, her lips quickly attaching to my clit.

“Shit. Paige, I-” I moan, unable to come up with any comprehensible thought, Paige’s tongue lapping me up like she really would die if she didn’t taste me. Paige’s eyes are fluttering shut and she’s moaning against my cunt, unable to get enough.

“Fucking missed this pussy so bad,” she murmurs against me, wrapping her lips around my clit and sucking. “Taste so fucking good, never gonna get enough of you,” she rambles on, making quick mess of me. It doesn’t take long for the coil in my stomach to tighten, my hand gripping onto Paige’s blond hair, falling out of the bun now.

“Paige-” I whine, throwing my head back, feeling her tongue swirling in my folds. The sheets underneath me were growing damp, wetness dripping out of me from how good she was eating me out.

Paige pulls away spreading my folds apart with her fingers. “Shit ma she loves me huh,” she groans at the sight of me dripping all over the bed. Without warning she pushes two fingers inside me, all the way as deep as she could.

“OH fuck P” I gasp loud, bringing my eyes to her face, glistening from the mess I had made. She groans, my cunt tight and wet around her fingers as she curls them against me, her bicep flexing as she does. I moan loudly, throwing my head back, my legs shaking bad. Paige’s thumb rubs against my clit harshly as she pumps her fingers into me.

“P… mmph, please,” I cry out, not even sure what I'm pleading for.

“Shh,” Paige coos, her hand reaching up to cover my mouth and shut me up. “Listen ma,” she says and groans. The room is filled with the sound of my wet cunt, as her fingers slam into me faster, curling harder. My cheeks burn up, almost embarrassed at the state that she had me in.

Paige grins watching my face. “Don’t sound like you hate me, huh,” she murmurs, a bead of sweat dripping down her face. “No one else gets you this wet right? No one fucks you like this,” she groans, hand moving from my mouth to gripping my jaw, making me watch her fingering me.

“Mmmh,” i whimper and grip the sheets harder, overwhelmed with the fullness her fingers were bringing me. I wanted to look away, unable to take the way her arm looked, muscles flexing, veins prominent, as she worked me. It was all overwhelming me as the pleasure built enough to make me shut my eyes.

“Answer me,” Paige commands, her voice stern and her hand moving faster.

“Shit… No one.. No one fucks me like this,” I cry out, unaware of what was coming out of my mind. Too fucked out to care.

“Shit, that’s right. No one baby, only me,” Paige murmurs, her mouth returning to my clit, tongue working against it as her fingers fill me up, overwhelming me and getting me to my peak.

“P- I’m close,” I cry out, my legs nearly shutting but Paige grips my thigh with her free hand, spreading me open for her.

“That’s it ma, s’ good for me,” Paige coos working harder, her fingers curling inside me, tongue flicking against my clit. “Come for me baby,” she praises, groaning against me.

“Oh-” I whine and my head lulls back, as my core tightens around her, my legs trembling, her movements coaxing my orgasm out of me. Who cared she slept around, who cared I was supposed to hate her. In this moment, it was just me and her. And no one made me feel like she did, no one took care of me like this.

“Perfect fucking pussy, all for me,” Paige groans against my cunt, working me as I released all over her, the pleasure washing over me in waves. My moans turn to whimpers as I slowly come down, her movements slowing too.

I let out a breath, feeling the aching emptiness inside me as Paige pulled her hand away. She watches my pulsing cunt, mesmerised and hungry. The thing about Paige, one was never enough for her. Her lips kissed around my clit before pulling away, licking her lips from my slick.

“Missed how you taste baby,” she murmurs while I lay back, trying to catch my breath. Paige brought her fingers against my lips, sliding them into my mouth. I wrap my lips around her fingers, tongue swirling around them, tasting myself. Paige hisses, watching me sucking on her fingers. With a groan she climbs back up, kissing me hungrily. The taste of me, and her saliva all mixing together.

Her lips move against mine, the kiss filled with something more tender than pure lust. My arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in as we move up towards the headboard of the bed. Paige breathes heavy through her nose, kissing me with all the need she had, her hand holding my face by my jaw. I move my hand from her shoulder, down her arm squeezing her bicep, all the way to the band of her Nike Pros, tucking on them.

“Need to feel you P,” I admit in a moment of weakness, my heart fluttering with how good it felt to be underneath her again. I needed all of her.

Paige pulls back a little, breathing heavy and I swear her eyes are filled with tenderness for just a second as they meet mine. Her fingertips trace my jaw and lower lip before letting go and pulling down the fabric I was tugging on, lips parted from need. My eyes roam her sports bra covered chest, down the muscles of her abdomen finally to her core. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly going dry.

I reach up and flip us over, with some help from Paige who was much stronger. She grins, watching me on top of her, straddling her thigh as I lean down and kiss her hard. Paige is quick to place her hand on my ass, gripping it harshly and hissing at how good it felt to touch me. My hand trails down her abdomen, fingertips itching to feel her cunt but she grabs my wrist, shaking her head.

“Ride me ma,” she says, half commanding, half pleading. I open my eyes meeting her eyes and I realise, she is fully pleading.

“Need to feel that pussy on mine.” Shit.

Too weak to fight or to make her beg, I manoeuvre myself between her legs, angling her body just right, Paige’s other leg up in the air in my grip. Paige watches me, leaning back against the bedframe, eyes half shut and mouth agape, looking so good I could’ve burst.

Finally, I lower myself against her, feeling the slick of her cunt press against mine.

“Ohhh shiiit,” Paige groans, watching our cores pressing against each other. I whimper, pressing on her lower abdomen to find just the right angle.

“Oh,” I whine, feeling her pressing against my clit just right, my body immediately trembling, still sensitive from my previous orgasm.

Paige’s head lulls back at the same time, as she lets out a guttural groan, gripping my ass and forcing me to start moving my hips.

I do so, slowly, drawing it out for her - just the way Paige loved and simultaneously hated. Her breathing was getting heavier as she watched me. “Just like that,” she whimpers, trying to keep herself together. It never lasted for long.

I moan, grinding my cunt into hers, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. Her hands snake around me, unclasping my bra with ease, letting my tits fall out as she groans.

“Look so fucking good for me,” she murmurs, a slight whine in her voice as she leans forward, her mouth attaching itself to my nipple, tongue circling it as i ride her faster, mind spinning once more. “Such a bitch huh who knew you’d be so good for me,” Paige whines and I grip her shoulders, steadying myself, letting my nails dig into her skin as she hisses.

“You’re the bitch,” I whimper breathlessly, letting out a gasp when she bites my nipple. Paige’s hand are digging into the skin of my ass, forcing me to move faster, her hips bucking into me. She chuckles, breathing heavily, head falling back against the bedframe. “Shut the fuck up and ride me ma,” she hisses, gripping my jaw and forcing my gaze to lock on her face.

I hiss, furrowing my brows as i look down at her, moving my hips desperately, our cunts grinding together harshly, igniting that familiar burn inside me.

“That pisses me off, pretending you don't want me. Pretending you don’t want me to fuck you, it’s bullshit,” Paige groans, fighting back her own orgasm now. Her words shook and the muscles in her abdomen were contracting as she looked up at me. “Look at you now riding my shit, being a slut for me,” she rambles on. “You’re my slut ma,” Paige moans bucking her hips into mine, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.

My nails dig into her skin harder, my whole body trembling. I was close, and it only made me ride harder, grind against her faster, the slickness of her cunt making me wetter. Paige’s hand squeezed my jaw, forcing my eyes open.

“Tell me.. Shit- tell me you’re my slut,” Paige whines. She’s desperate for it, barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Mmph, P-” I moan, my cunt throbbing.

“Aw shit- I- Tell me,”

“Fuck I am, I’m your slut P, please,” I mewl, my eyes growing wet as they shut.

“That’s right ma, fuck- ride me so good you’re gonna make me come,” Paige murmurs out inbetween moans, hands gripping my jaw and ass so tight I’m nearly bruising underneath her grip.

My whole body shook and I cried out, barely able to keep grinding my cunt into hers. But when I heard the moan that slipped from her lips, and felt her mouth attach itself to my neck, I knew I’d do anything to get her to fall apart beneath me.

“P- I’m-” I cry out but she interrupts me.

“Me too baby, shit- ride me so- aw fuck- fucking good,” Paige rambles, barely able to form sentences as she moves underneath me, the friction growing unbearable between us as she lets out a guttural moan, her body coiling underneath me.

“Fuck-” Paige finally moans.

That’s enough to get me there too, coming against her cunt, fingernails leaving marks on her shoulders as I kept grinding my hips, movements turning sloppy as i whimpered on top of her.

My body trembles, eyes still closed when I feel Paige’s hands wrapping around my body and pulling me down. My naked body presses against her skin as she soothingly rubs my back, nuzzling her nose into my hair.

“Meant it when I said I missed you,” she murmurs into my ear, still out of breath. I bury my head into the crook of her neck, brushing her hair gently. It was moments like these that got me confused. You didn’t do this just for someone you fucked. Except Paige did.

“Don’t like fightin you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss on my temple. I feel my heart fluttering in a way I didn’t want it to for Paige. But I’m too tired to fight it. I press a kiss on her jaw, gently and pull my head back to meet her gaze. She looks completely fucked out, mascara smudged under tired eyes. Her hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair off my face before she leans over and kisses my forehead, as tenderly as humanly possible. Maybe this was her trying to show me I was in fact different, that she was done with the other girls. She just wanted me.

“Don’t like fighting you either,” I whisper, resting my chin on her chest. Paige’s eyes are filled with relief, as she smiles weakly.

“I’mma get us some water, okay ma?” Paige hums and I nod, letting her crawl out of bed from underneath me. I watch pull her clothes back on and turn to me, smiling affectionately. She leans down and presses another kiss on my temple, smoothing over the blanket to make sure I was comfortable. “Just a sec,” she whispers before walking into the kitchen. Surely you don’t do that just for a girl you fuck. There’s no way you look at someone like that and proceed to sleep around with other people. My heart fluttered as I let my mind wander, finding myself fantasising of getting to call Paige mine. All mine.

Just then I heard Paige’s phone buzzing on the bedside table. Without my better judgement, I reach over, seeing 4 missed calls and 12 messages from a girl, asking where she was and when she’d be over. My heart sinks, the reality quickly bringing me back down from my daydreams. Paige wasn’t here because I was special. No. She was here because I was whipped, and she knew it. And I had given her every single thing she wanted.

#paige bueckers #too lost in you #lilas writing #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x female oc #wnba x oc

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mapiforpresident · 8 months ago

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Would love to see a leah x alessia x reader one where they are expecting their first baby but reader goes into labour a couple weeks early while Leah and alessia are away at a match either for arsenal or they are at England camp. Just them all rushing around and then trying to get back for the birth while reader is just hoping she has them their while she gives birth.

Just a cute but emotional one of them becoming a family and the drama leading up to the moment

Labour

Leah x reader x Alessia

You go into labour a few weeks early while your wives are at England camp.

Thanks for the request :)

~~~

The pain started mid-morning, a dull ache low in your abdomen that you tried to ignore. You told yourself they were just Braxton Hicks. You were only 35 weeks along, and first babies were rarely early—or so everyone had told you. But by lunchtime, when the pain started to come in waves, you realized this wasn’t false labor. This was the real thing.

Leah and Alessia were away at England camp, just two hours away, but they weren’t answering their phones. You’d already called Leah who hadn't picked up, then called Alessia twice, your breathing growing more labored as the contractions intensified.

“Come on,” you whispered desperately, clutching your stomach as you sat on the edge of the bed, the hospital bag already packed and ready by your feet. “Pick up, Less. Pick up, Leah.”

Still no answer.

Your hand trembled as you scrolled through your contacts and landed on a name you hadn’t expected to call in such a moment: Sarina.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” Sarina’s calm, no-nonsense voice brought a flicker of relief.

“Sarina,” you said, your voice tight with pain and panic, “I—I think I’m in labor. The baby’s coming early, and I can’t reach Leah or Alessia.”

There was a pause, then, “You’re in labour?” she repeated, her tone instantly urgent. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home on the couch, but I need to go to the hospital,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut against another contraction.

“Okay, listen to me,” Sarina said firmly. “I’ll get them. Do you have someone else who can drive you?”

“I—I’ll figure it out,” you stammered, the pain making it hard to think.

“Good. Get to the hospital safely, and I’ll make sure Leah and Alessia are there as soon as possible,” Sarina promised.

~~~

At camp, the atmosphere on the pitch was intense. The Lionesses were in the middle of a scrimmage, with Leah on the backline and Alessia pressing high in attack. Sarina approached the sideline, waving over one of her assistants before stepping onto the field, her expression unusually serious.

“Stop play!” she called, her voice cutting through the noise.

The players paused, confused, as Sarina walked briskly toward Leah and Alessia.

“Coach?” Leah asked, frowning as Sarina gestured for them to step aside.

“I need to speak with both of you,” Sarina said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“What’s wrong?” Alessia asked immediately, worry flashing across her face.

“Its y/n,” Sarina said, lowering her voice. “She’s in labour. She couldn’t reach you, so she called me.”

Leah’s eyes widened, her face paling. “What? She’s—she’s in labour? Now?”

“Is she okay?” Alessia asked, panic rising in her voice.

“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Sarina said. “You two need to go. Now.”

Leah didn’t need to be told twice. “We’ll take my car,” she said, already jogging toward the locker room to grab her keys. Alessia was hot on her heels, her boots barely hitting the ground as she ran.

~~~

By the time you arrived at the hospital, the contractions were coming hard and fast, and you could barely think through the pain. The nurses helped you into a gown, hooked you up to monitors, and assured you that everything looked good for the baby, even though it was early.

“Have your wives arrived yet?” one nurse asked as she checked on your vitals.

“No,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They’re on their way, but they’re two hours away. I just—I need them here.”

Leah drove like she was in a race, Alessia clutching her phone in the passenger seat, her leg bouncing with nervous energy.

“Why didn’t she call us earlier?” Alessia asked, her voice tight with guilt.

“She tried,” Leah said, her hands gripping the wheel. “We didn’t pick up. God, I can’t believe we didn’t pick up.”

“She must be so scared,” Alessia murmured, tears brimming in her eyes.

Leah reached over, squeezing Alessia’s hand briefly before returning her focus to the road. “We’ll get there. We’ll be there for her. We have to be.”

~~~

Back in the delivery room, the pain was overwhelming, and you struggled to focus on the midwife’s calming instructions. The room felt too bright, too loud, too empty without Leah and Alessia.

“I don’t think I can do this without them,” you choked out between sobs.

“Yes, you can,” the midwife said gently, her voice steady. “You’re already doing it. They’ll be here soon, but right now, your baby needs you to be strong.”

Leah and Alessia burst through the hospital doors, breathless and frantic. After a few wrong turns and a lot of urgent questions at the front desk, they finally found your room.

When they stepped inside, you were in the middle of a contraction, your face contorted in pain, tears streaking your cheeks.

“Oh, love,” Alessia said, rushing to your side and taking your hand. “We’re here. We’re here.”

Leah was right behind her, her hand landing gently on your shoulder as she leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here sooner,” she said.

“You made it,” you gasped out, gripping their hands like lifelines.

“Of course we did,” Alessia said, tears streaming down her face. “We wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Alessia whispered words of encouragement, her voice soft and steady, while Leah rubbed your back and counted through your breaths as you practically broke their hands.

When the baby finally arrived—a healthy, squalling little girl—all three of you were overcome with emotion.

“She’s perfect,” Leah whispered, her voice breaking as she stared at your daughter in awe.

Alessia leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You were incredible,” she said, her tears falling freely.

“You both made it,” you said, your own tears mingling with laughter as you cradled your daughter against your chest.

“We’re never leaving you again,” Leah said firmly, wrapping her arms around you both.

And in that moment, as the three of you stared down at the tiny miracle you’d created, the chaos and panic of the day melted away, leaving only love and the overwhelming joy of becoming a family.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal women #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #lionesses #woso imagines

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s7toru · 1 year ago

Text

“spider! babe, there’s a spider in the house!”

your toast clatters on the plate as you drop everything and fling yourself onto the couch, four limbs scrambling to get off the floor. wide eyes seek out your boyfriend in the moment of chaos, and find him crouched on the tv stand, arms wrapped around the tv to hold him still.

“where?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground. he doesn’t need to reply because you spot the creepy crawly darting cluelessly about on the carpet, eight legs crawling about in frantic panic. “oh my god, gojo! do something about it!”

“are you kidding? you’re out of your mind if you think i’m getting anywhere near that thing!”

your mind blanks at his refusal. “you won’t have to get anywhere near it, dummy. just turn on your infinity and smack it or something!”

gojo remains wrapped around the tv, already shaking his head even before the last of your sentence leaves your mouth. “that’s not how it works.”

“really. then, please, remind me why you can’t just use your infinity to kill the spider.”

“listen, even if it’s on i’ll still be aware that i’m squishing the bug. all its bug juice will splatter out all over me!”

“over your infinity.” you correct him.

“you didn’t listen.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “i didn’t want to get rid of the wasp nest outside our house the other day either but i still had to do it. and i don’t even have something to keep them away from me!”

“you lost the rock paper scissors, i had no hand in that.”

“well.” you say. “technically you did. you had a hand, it was a rock.”

gojo rolls his eyes. “don’t be dramatic, i was supporting you.”

“from inside the house.” you recall his face beaming at you through the window, hand flashing a thumbs up as you were armed with only a rake and your willpower, and your frown deepens.

“and yet, i was still supporting you.” gojo pauses, considering. “you did well, by the way. i’ve never seen anyone smack a wasp mid air like that.”

the compliment lifts some anger off your shoulders and you grin. “thanks! i was proud of that too!” reality slaps you across the face, readjusting your expression. “wait, don’t think you can change the topic just by complimenting me.”

he shrugs. “it was worth a try.”

you pause. “does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

“no! you were actually cool.”

you smile again. “okay, thanks.”

“the sound it made was really satisfying.” he adds.

“right? like pow.” you gesture an explosion with your hands and watch as gojo gives you a skeptical look.

“really? i thought it was more like thwack.” his voice turns all dramatic at the last syllable and you scoff at his attempt.

“if this was a marvel comic the sound effect that would show up would be pow. in all red too, with crazy fonts.”

“this is like you saying math is red—”

“it is.” you cut in, matter-of-factly.

“you’re so wrong it hurts. english is red, math is blue.”

“why would math be blue?”

“because i feel sad doing math.”

“okay fair. but english is green.”

“none of them is green.”

you furrow your brows. not because of his horrid opinion, but because your eyes had found its way back on the ground. you notice a lack of legs, a lack of a small, black creature terrorising the carpet. "wait, where did the spider go?"

the complain on gojo's tongue dies, and he looks around, too.

your biggest fear becomes reality, and when you look back up at gojo to express your concern, it's there.

something was crawling up gojo’s arm. it fumbles up the fabric of his shirt, swimming through the folds. your mouth falls open but before you can scream out to warn him, gojo's eyes had already followed your gaze. “it’s on me!”

“flick it off!” you cry out in panic, weight shifting as you edge further away from him, though you were nowhere close.

gojo reaches up, prepping his fingers for an attack when you realise the trajectory was aimed towards you.

“wait, babe! flick it away from us!”

“then we’re going to lose sight of it!” the skin of his finger was turning white at the strength building up behind the flick. if the impact wasn't enough to kill it, the speed in which it hits the surface would send it to the afterlife. “no time to think!”

he releases his index finger from his thumb and the force smacks the spider head on. it’s a blur really, as the spider flies through the air. you gape at it horrified, watching as if in slow motion as it soars in a beautiful arc, and lands directly on the very top of your head.

you wonder if your scream could shatter glass. considering that your house still had its windows, you realise it couldn’t. though, you’re sure if you were tested again that it wouldn’t end as cleanly.

“gojo!” you scream. “i don’t ask for much but can you please get it off me, i’m begging you!”

gojo steps down from the tv stand, relief on his face. “thank god it’s off the floor.”

“gojo!”

“yes, yes.” he makes his way, slowly, painfully, over to you as you crouch frozen on the couch. something in his smile told you he was very pleased at the sight. was that a cramp creeping up your thigh? oh, how you were going to make him pay. “where did it go?” he asks, joyfully, dancing around you.

“don’t even joke.” you hiss at him, and he laughs, reaching over to let the spider walk on his finger. specifically, he lets the spider walk over his finger on his infinity.

he holds it out to you with a proud smile. “there! we’re all safe and sound now.”

you glare at him. “what happened to being deathly scared of the spider?”

he shrugs.

you reach over and flick the spider onto his face.

a/n: brainrot save me, save me brainrot

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #gojo crack #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #not proofread i wrote this all in one sprint yup

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mjonthetrack · 2 months ago

Text

tide

Chapter 135: The Break in the Storm

The sea was writhing.

Waves towered like fists, crashing down upon the surface in screams of rage. Lightning split the heavens in a jagged crown above her head, illuminating the titan form of Zafina as she swung her obsidian spear again—screaming underwater, the sound like cracked coral and storms bottled in glass.

The mimic siren shrieked back, matching her speed, its body lithe and glistening like ink. But it wasn’t Zafina’s ferocity that terrified the world right now.

It was her loss of control.

Her body flailed—not with wildness, but with purpose that wasn’t her own. It was as though her mind and soul were trying to claw their way out of the shell of a goddess too ancient, too vast, too buried in salt and memory.

Black scales shimmered down her arms, her tail whipping like a leviathan’s spine, slamming into rocks with explosive force. Her eyes were pitch black—

Until they weren’t.

For a blink—just a flicker in the chaos—one eye glinted blue.

Jey saw it.

From his perch standing still on the ocean’s surface, his voice cracked.

“Zafina!”

She didn’t stop.

The mimic screamed again, diving under her swing, trying to bait her toward the shallows.

She followed.

No. No, no, love… please.

The sky howled overhead. Something in the air shifted—the ancestors were watching now.

And deep inside the goddess, her mind buckled.

Why?

Why did they always think she was the threat?

Why did her beauty feel like a weapon even when her hands were empty?

Why was she made to be desired, only to be feared?

She twisted in midair, spear whistling. The mimic caught the edge and hissed, but Zafina wasn’t attacking anymore—she was reacting. Her own form flailed again, flinching. Her chest heaved as if her inner self were screaming beneath the skin, pounding to get out.

Somewhere in the dark tangle of her mind, Jey’s voice called again—but she couldn’t reach it.

Until—

“I see you, Zafi.”

His voice didn’t come from the sea.

It came from the bond. Faint. Flickering. But true.

I see you.

Her eyes twitched.

Her spear paused mid-swing.

The mimic launched at her.

And then—

A roar tore the sky apart.

Jey was beside her, water curling around his body like armor, his hand catching the mimic by the throat and slamming it away from her.

Zafina fell to one knee mid-air, hovering inches from the water’s edge.

Her form shuddered violently. She clutched her head, gills flaring, teeth bared—and then gasped.

The mimic screamed. From the cliffs, a blinding beam of arc energy sliced it in half, thanks to Stark’s backup drone.

Zafina’s head snapped up.

The blue in her eyes was brighter now. Shimmering like sapphires trying to burn through coal.

She looked at Jey—and for the first time in minutes—she saw him.

Her hand reached.

He grabbed it instantly.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

The sky began to calm.

And beneath the waves, their spirits stirred.

Chapter 136: The Fall

The world stopped breathing.

The oceans, the winds, even the crashing thunder silenced themselves—as if the gods themselves bowed their heads.

High above the sea, the towering, ancient form of Zafina shuddered. Her massive, obsidian frame paused in mid-air like a dying star, every scale and ripple of muscle caught in tension. Her eyes—once endless wells of shadow—began to flash.

Black.

Blue.

Black again.

And then—

“I’m not a monster.”

The words didn’t come from her lips.

They slipped into their minds like a whisper on the verge of vanishing, a dying echo in a cathedral of panic. Every Avenger felt it—each one of them stiffened as her voice flitted through their skulls, so quiet it could have been imagined.

But it wasn’t.

Peter stood frozen, eyes wide beneath his mask.

Steve clenched his fists, something wrenching in his chest.

T’Challa didn’t move—just stared up at her with his heart pounding in silence.

Even Stark, who was hovering on a repulsor platform, had no snark left. Just a breathless, “...Did anyone else…?”

And then—

Her colossal body shuddered.

The eyes flared blue, blinding and pure, like stars bursting through obsidian.

And in the sky, at the very center of where the monstrous form hovered—

She appeared.

Zafina’s real body—small, bare-footed, just over five feet of ocean-born grace—hovered, upright but limp, her hair soaked and drifting in the wind. She looked almost like a doll, delicate and unguarded, her skin glowing faintly with the remnants of her power.

Then—

She dropped.

Like a meteor falling from grace, her body tumbled.

Jey’s scream ripped from his throat, inhuman and guttural, as he disappeared from the surface—vanishing mid-stridewith a crack of magic.

The crash came seconds later.

BOOM.

Sand exploded skyward. A crater blew open across the coastline, a deep impact marking the place where Zafina had fallen. Debris flew in every direction. The shockwave was enough to knock Peter back on his ass and send Cap bracing against the dirt.

T’Challa was already moving—racing, sprinting toward the crater without a word.

Everyone else followed, hearts in throats.

They reached the edge—

And there she was.

Zafina, lying motionless in the center, curled inward like a child in sleep. Her hair was tangled in seaweed and ash, blood at her temple, her ribs rising just barely. Cracks of dried salt traced down her face like ancient tears.

Beside her, on his knees, was Jey.

His hands hovered inches above her skin, glowing dimly, trying to stabilize her core energy. He looked wild—eyes bloodshot, body trembling, desperate. His voice was broken when he spoke.

“She gave it all… She used everything… trying to hold it back—”

Peter crouched next to him, looking down with a broken breath.

“She’s not the monster,” he whispered.

And nobody, not even Fury, dared to disagree.

Not now.

Not after this.

Not after watching a goddess bleed.

Chapter 137: Between Realms and Wounds

The hum of the ship’s engines was quiet compared to the tension inside. Every Avenger, every agent, and every medic in the hull moved on instinct alone—fast, focused, but clearly shaken.

Zafina lay on the central medical table, wrapped in layers of sea-damp linens and thin golden threads that sparked softly over her skin. Whatever systems Fury had access to—magical diagnostics, alien tech, vibranium scanners—none of it worked.

Because they weren’t trying to fix a person.

They were trying to mend a goddess.

And none of them had a damn clue how.

She barely moved, her breaths uneven and shallow, lips slightly parted as though she were trying to speak but the words couldn’t find her. Her hair fanned out in silvered curls that were slowly darkening to their usual deep black, but her skin still glowed faintly like bioluminescent coral. Around her chest, a slow rhythm pulsed—a magical heartbeat, too irregular to be mortal.

Across the room, Jey sat absolutely still in a metal chair, eyes trained on her like a beast daring anyone to try and separate them. His knuckles were white on the armrests, jaw tense, shirt torn open and stained from trying to shield her fall with his own body.

Fury stepped into the center of the room, his voice a blade.

“She’s not the enemy. But that thing down there was sent—engineered, if I had to guess. Not born. Designed.”

Tony rubbed his face. “You saying someone created that…siren thing?”

“Maybe,” Fury answered tightly. “Or maybe they released it. Same outcome. Someone’s trying to start a war with sea gods, and they're painting Zafina as the trigger.”

Nat paced nearby, arms crossed. “She’s too powerful. If she snaps again—”

“She won’t.”

All heads turned.

Banner, calm and eerily steady, adjusted his glasses as he looked at the vitals—though they meant little here. His voice was quiet but grounded in knowing.

“I’ve seen that kind of rage before. That desperation. When the green guy used to take over…before we found balance. When he felt backed into a corner.” He glanced at Zafina, empathy swimming in his usually clinical gaze. “What we saw wasn’t destruction for destruction’s sake. That was trauma. Someone pushed her into a space she wasn’t ready to open.”

Silence thickened. Then—

“G-gree—green…ma-magic…”

The voice came like a breath in the dark.

All eyes whipped to the table.

Zafina’s brow furrowed, lashes fluttering as her lips moved again.

“G-green...magic…”

Jey was up in an instant, at her side, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I’m here, my sea, my firelight…”

Peter stepped closer, whispering, “What does she mean?”

Bruce's eyes narrowed.

“Green magic,” he repeated. “Not just a trigger… a type of corruption.”

Fury’s eye sharpened. “You think someone used a specific form of magic to force the transformation?”

Bruce nodded. “It would explain the way her body tried to reject the change. The same way gamma tried to tear me apart when I first transformed.”

T’Challa finally spoke, low and grim.

“Green magic is chaos. Wild, ancient... primal. If it was laced into the fake siren, then it wasn’t just bait. It was poisondesigned to hijack her.”

A weight dropped into the room. They weren’t just dealing with power anymore.

They were dealing with warfare—spiritual, magical, and psychological.

Jey rested his head gently against hers and whispered, “She’ll rise again. And when she does, we end whoever dared touch what’s ours.”

Zafina’s fingers barely twitched—just enough to curl into the edge of his shirt.

And somewhere outside the ship, beneath dark skies and violent tides, something watched from the depths.

And waited.

Chapter 138: The Sorcerer’s Verdict

A flicker in the air, the scent of ozone and incense—and suddenly, the room bent. Light folded, cracked like a mirror, and then snapped back into place with a rush of wind and the sound of reality groaning.

Doctor Stephen Strange stood near the entrance of the medbay, his crimson Cloak of Levitation billowing dramatically despite the absence of breeze. He swept the room with a look of supreme annoyance, a satchel of arcane relics slung across one shoulder, eyes fixed on Zafina’s unconscious form.

Then he scoffed.

“Not primal, you fools.”

Everyone turned toward him, either stiffening or sighing in recognition.

Strange didn’t wait for permission.

He strode forward, conjuring a flickering sigil in the air—an emerald mandala that pulsed in rhythm with Zafina’s heartbeat. His fingers moved like a maestro’s, and with every shift, the air thickened with the scent of seawater and salt.

“Green magic,” he muttered, “Loki’s handiwork.”

“What?!” Peter blurted, almost tripping over himself. “Like… like our Loki?!”

Strange’s hand waved dismissively. “There is only one Loki, and yes—our self-important chaos god. Or at least…someone who’s been to his vault.”

Jey growled low in his chest. “Speak plainly, sorcerer.”

Strange turned, eyeing him and then Zafina, and for once—his gaze softened slightly.

“She was poisoned. This transformation, this madness? It wasn’t a natural shift. Someone infected her soul tether with a Loki-born variant of chaos spellwork—green magic. Designed not just to unbalance her, but to sever the control between her godhood and her consciousness.”

He glanced back at the flickering pulse of emerald still hovering in the air.

“She was turned into a weapon.”

Banner slowly nodded, tension in his jaw. “That explains why she lost control. Why her mind flickered and went blank.”

Tony stared. “Wait. Waitwaitwait. Are we talking about Loki trying to control a sea goddess just for shits and giggles again?”

Strange gave a sideways smile. “Unlikely. Loki’s spells aren’t subtle. This was done by someone with access to his magic, not the god himself. Which means someone is walking Midgard with enough power to hijack divine beings.”

Jey’s eyes glowed faintly. “Can you remove it?”

Strange hesitated.

“I can try. But if I’m wrong—even slightly—it could rupture the fragments of her spirit that are still clinging to her human form.”

Jey’s voice dropped, firm and guttural. “Then you’ll be sure. I will not lose her.”

Zafina stirred, faint, a whisper in the air.

“…don’t… like him…”

Strange arched a brow.

“Well. At least her taste is intact.”

The room, heavy with stress, cracked with the faintest thread of laughter.

But Fury stepped forward, face stone.

“Then fix her, Strange. And find out who the hell is using Norse chaos magic to start god-wars on our soil. Because I guarantee this ain’t the last time they’ll try.”

Strange’s eyes burned with arcane energy, and the green sigil expanded, reaching out to cradle Zafina’s temple.

“She’s stronger than you think. But she’ll need help from both realms to survive what’s coming next.”

And outside the ship… the sea shifted again.

Dark.

Vast.

Waiting.

Chapter 139: The Trickster’s Visit

The medbay lights flickered—just once. Just enough for everyone to go rigid.

Zafina arched off the bed, her body writhing like something alive had crawled beneath her skin. A sharp, feral noise tore from her throat—something between a hiss and a wail. Her eyes flew open. Black. Then blue. Then black again. Magic crackled off her skin like static, snapping at the air with the taste of ozone and deepwater dread.

“Hold her down!” Banner shouted, but even Jey’s strong grip trembled as divine power surged from her bones.

And then—

A low hum rolled across the room. Honey-smooth. Eerily casual. With it came the scent of crushed lilac and winter frost. The air split like it had been unzipped, and with a flash of viridescent magic, he appeared.

Loki.

Tall, lean, crowned in gold, his silhouette shimmered with mischievous power. He leaned lazily on his scepter, dressed in his full Asgardian regalia, eyes aglow with knowing amusement.

“Down, fish. Down,” he drawled with a smirk, stepping toward Zafina like one might approach a snarling tiger behind glass.

She snarled, teeth elongating unnaturally, the growl shaking the very metal under the bed. Jey’s hands flared with dark power, rising up between them protectively.

“Try it, trickster,” he warned lowly.

But Loki only chuckled and lightly tapped Zafina’s forehead with the head of his staff. “Oh come now, no need to get territorial, sea god. I’m not here to take anything.”

His smirk widened as Zafina shuddered, the black receding from her eyes in thin, wild threads of light.

“Seems I didn’t get a good enough reign on my borrowed bait here,” Loki added, feigning innocence. “A pity, really. I was hoping for a longer tantrum. She certainly makes a mess when she throws one.”

“You did this?” Steve stepped forward, voice taut with disgust. “You used her as a weapon?”

“I influenced her,” Loki said calmly, eyes narrowing. “A small spell. A whisper of chaos. Nothing permanent. But oh,” he added, glancing admiringly down at Zafina’s trembling form, “what beautiful destruction she caused. You can’t tell me you weren’t impressed.”

Peter made a noise of protest, stepping up beside Jey now. “You hurt her. She didn’t ask for this. None of this is her fault!”

Loki turned, something darker sliding into his gaze. “Mortal child, everything in this realm has a cost. If you believe that power like hers comes without consequence, you are more foolish than you look.”

Strange's sigils crackled to life, golden runes spinning in midair as he raised a defensive shield.

“State your purpose and leave.”

Loki yawned, theatrically unbothered.

“I simply came to collect the echo I left behind. A sliver of chaos.” He snapped his fingers and a wisp of green energy lifted from Zafina’s chest, trailing toward him like smoke. He inhaled it greedily, eyelids fluttering. “Mmm. Tangy. Tastes like fury and heartbreak.”

He turned to leave, pausing only briefly.

“Oh. And if I can use green magic this creatively—imagine what others might do. You might want to keep your little goddess on a tighter leash.”

With that, he vanished in a crack of emerald light, and silence fell like a slab of ice.

Zafina’s body finally stilled, her breath shallow but no longer frantic.

Jey brushed her hair from her damp forehead, his voice low and unshaken. “He will not touch you again. Not without consequence.”

Fury exhaled slowly. “We need a list. Anyone with access to chaos magic. Anyone who’s ever traded with Loki.”

Strange nodded grimly. “Because this wasn’t just mischief. This was a test.”

Tony clenched his jaw. “And next time, it won’t just be one goddess he tries to break.”

Chapter 141: “I’m Here, Lohi”

The quiet that followed Loki’s disappearance felt artificial—too still, too hollow.

Monitors beeped softly in the medbay. Magic still clung to the corners of the room like soot. No one spoke. Not Fury. Not Banner. Not even Strange. Their eyes were all on the narrow cot in the center where Zafina’s body lay, framed in faint golden runes for containment and healing.

And then she twitched.

A single breath.

Jey felt it before the machines did. He was across the room in a blur—his dark form hitting his knees hard enough to crack the floor, his hands trembling as they cradled her face.

“Zafina…” he whispered, his voice ragged, guttural. "Mine.”

Her body stirred again, a weak groan rumbling low in her throat, her lashes fluttering. Her skin shimmered—no longer glowing with erratic power, but soft, warm. Her breath hitched.

Her eyes opened.

A radiant ocean blue.

Alive.

Jey collapsed fully, pulling her limp frame against his chest, his arms wrapping tight, too tight—but she didn’t protest. He buried his face into her hair and breathed, scenting her, his shoulders shaking from silent emotion.

The room watched, confused murmurs threading through the stillness. Peter had a hand over his mouth. Banner tilted his head thoughtfully, trying to understand. Steve and Natasha exchanged wary glances, unsure if this was relief or another storm brewing.

But then she moved.

Like instinct. Like soul-recognition.

Zafina’s arms shot up, wrapping around Jey’s neck like a vice, her legs tangling around his waist as if she was afraid he’d vanish again. A sharp sound broke from her lips—half-laugh, half-sob, her fingers clenching in his curls.

“I’m here, Lohi,” she whispered, her voice cracked and full of aching love. “I’m here.”

Jey rocked with her, his claws unsheathing for a second as he held her, his voice a low chant of reverence in a language the mortals couldn’t understand. A sacred thing. Their bond, their names, sung softly back into existence.

“Mine,” he breathed again, over and over. “Mine. Mine.”

Zafina just laughed through tears, pressing her forehead to his. “You didn’t leave me.”

“I never would.”

Around them, the air shimmered with their reunited energy—two ancient beings tethered back together. The monitors flickered. The walls hummed. The team could only watch, silent, small in the presence of something so… eternal.

Banner finally broke the silence with a low murmur. “That’s not just devotion. That’s bond magic. You feel that?”

Even Strange exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They’re not lovers. They’re soul-wed. That’s why he couldn’t reach her when Loki forced the chaos inside her. That bond isn’t just love—it’s identity.”

Fury crossed his arms slowly, his voice quiet but tense. “And if someone can sever that, even briefly…”

Steve spoke next, quiet and awed. “Then they’re a real threat.”

But Peter wasn’t listening. He was only watching Zafina’s smile, how she trembled in Jey’s arms and yet looked unbreakable. And Peter whispered something the others didn’t catch.

“She came back.”

Chapter 142: “Whispers of the Old Order”

The world around them buzzed like white noise, dulled by the bond pulse still anchoring Zafina to Jey’s chest. But she didn’t speak loud. Her lips barely moved. Only Jey would hear—only he could understand.

Her fingers brushed his collarbone, her voice a breath against his neck in their native tongue—one that had never been written, only sung in water and blood.

“The trickster…” she rasped, her throat still raw, “I saw it… in flashes. He’s trying to awaken them—my parents.”

Jey stiffened, his jaw ticking as he gripped her tighter.

“Yemoja… and Ogun…” she whispered. “He thinks… if he can control me, he can bait them out. Control gods. Bend the old order back under his chains.”

Jey’s breath grew heavy. The room around them faded like mist. His body tensed with old fury—one born not just from love but lineage. From what it meant to tamper with divine bloodlines. From what it cost the world the last time someone dared.

Zafina closed her eyes, head pressed to his shoulder. “He doesn’t just want chaos… he wants dominion. Resurrection.”

She didn’t need to say more.

Jey’s teeth bared, silent fury sparking in his golden gaze. Not at her—but at him. The trickster who thought he could use Zafina as a marionette. Who thought he could summon the river and war god through their only daughter.

He whispered back in the same tongue—his words low and dark with warning, his clawed thumb stroking her hip.

“Then we will kill him before he ever gets the chance.”

Her mouth tilted in a weak smile. “That’s why I love you, Lohi.”

Around them, the team still waited—some watching monitors, others talking in rushed tones. They didn’t know what was being said in that intimate, ancient exchange. But they all felt it:

Something old had been stirred. And the gods of sea and steel might just wake if the wrong thread was pulled.

Chapter 143: “He Speaks for the Sea”

The medical bay aboard the ship was silent save for the soft hum of arc-powered tech and the distant echo of waves brushing against the vessel’s hull.

Zafina lay nestled against Jey’s chest like the ocean against the moon—drawn by some force older than any of them understood. She hadn’t spoken again. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, her skin still glowing faintly with residual divinity. She breathed in slow, measured pulls as his claws gently combed through her curls.

But the tension was thick. Fury stood at the end of the room with his arms crossed. Banner was pacing. T’Challa remained still as stone. Peter sat cross-legged on a med chair, nervously glancing between the gods and the team. Steve watched with a furrowed brow, while Wanda stood near the monitors, magic at her fingertips just in case.

It was Jey who finally looked up, his golden gaze sharp, unwavering.

“She won’t speak,” he said simply. His voice was low, rough, thick with power. “She is healing.”

“Then you can,” Fury said, not unkindly. “What did she see?”

Jey stroked his mate’s shoulder with care, then nodded once.

“She saw the trickster—Loki. Not as he is now, but as something twisted… reaching through borrowed time. Using stolen strands of green magic and dark rites to infiltrate her mind.”

Wanda stiffened. “That wasn’t chaos magic. It was… colder. Older.”

Jey nodded. “He tried to forge a leash using her lineage. She’s not only a siren… she’s the daughter of Yemoja and Ogun. River mother. War father. He believes if he can control her, he can resurrect them. Bring back the old pantheon under his command.”

There was silence.

T’Challa’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not ambition. That’s cosmic warfare.”

Jey’s jaw tensed. “He baited her. Triggered the ancient form you saw. The titan. She doesn’t become that unless she’s pushed—ripped from her center. The last time she lost control like that was over two hundred years ago. And a continent burned for it.”

Peter swallowed, wide-eyed. “She kept saying she wasn’t a monster.”

“She’s not,” Jey snapped, protective fire flaring beneath the surface. His arm curled tighter around her. “She’s a goddess, yes. But she is not a monster.”

Banner stepped forward cautiously. “So what does he want? Chaos? Worship?”

“No.” Jey met his eyes. “He wants dominion. He wants to use her as a beacon. He thinks if he can corrupt the blood of gods… he can rule them. Control the balance between the divine and the mortal. And if her parents rise with him at the helm…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

Cap muttered under his breath. “Then we’d be dust before we even touched our boots to the battlefield.”

“She fought it,” Jey said, voice softer now as he looked down at her. “She chose to fight it. Even when it tore her apart.”

Wanda finally spoke. “Then we owe her our faith. And our protection.”

“Damn right you do,” Jey murmured.

Fury looked around the room, face unreadable, and then finally nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Let her rest. But when she wakes… we go hunting.”

Chapter 144: “The Anchor and the Tide”

She stirred before the stars shifted again.

Moonlight slanted through the small window of the ship's med bay, casting a bluish sheen across her skin. Zafina’s breath was shallow, chest barely rising. But Jey felt it before she even moved—the way her spirit whispered against his. A flicker of her essence brushing his own, soft and aching. Still raw. Still unsteady.

He didn’t wait.

Jey rose, carrying her with the reverence of a warrior cradling his fallen queen. She murmured something low and ocean-tongued against his chest, her cheek pressing to the center of his sternum. No one dared stop him. Not when his eyes had gone amber. Not when his touch had turned possessive and sacred in the same motion.

He crossed the corridor until he reached the stateroom, the one meant for him, but never used until now. With a wave of his hand, water vapor sealed the door shut like mist drawn from the sea. He moved slowly, deliberately, laying her against the silken bedding, but he didn’t leave her side.

Not yet. He couldn’t.

His body ached. His mind screamed. He had felt her power spiral beyond him, beyond their bond. She had been slipping, drowning, and it gutted him. The way she went quiet. The way her essence flickered like a candle fighting the wind.

Now, with her here—his again—he needed to reclaim her soul, not just her skin.

Zafina’s lips parted slightly, but he silenced her with his mouth.

The kiss was not frantic. It was not fast. It was slow, deep, claiming. His palm cradled her jaw as he pressed his mouth against hers like he was trying to pour himself into her lungs—remind her that she was not alone in that storm.

That she would never drown with him near.

She gasped when he pulled back, the sound light and trembling.

He rested his forehead to hers, voice low, rumbling from his chest like thunder trapped in a cavern. “I almost lost you, Zee.”

Her fingers curled into his biceps. “I’m still yours, Lohi.”

His eyes darkened at the word.

He had earned many titles in his thousand years—deity, god of tide and flame, guardian—but that one belonged only to her. Lohi. Her tether. Her harbor. Her rage-tamer.

And he could feel her returning to herself.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

He kissed her again, harder this time. His hands roamed, not with lust, but with reverence—each touch an affirmation. Her arms looped around his neck, her hips rising to meet him, and they moved in tandem. Like waves returning to shore. Like gravity finding its moon.

Their passion was not fire but pressure—oceanic. Building and building until it burst into crashing waves. And when her cries rose with his name on her tongue, the sea outside the ship rippled as if it, too, exhaled in relief.

After, he held her, curled around her like a shell around a pearl.

His lips pressed against the shell of her ear.

“You are mine,” he murmured. “No power, no god, no trickster… will take what is mine.”

She didn’t answer with words.

Only her heartbeat, steady again—strong in his arms—told him what he needed to know.

She was back.

Chapter 145: “Processing the Divine”

The med bay felt different now. Not just quieter—heavier. Like the air itself was still recovering from what it had witnessed.

Peter sat on the floor outside the sealed stateroom door, hoodie half-zipped, staring into nothing. His leg bounced nervously while his fingers played with the pearl Zafina had given him.

Inside the main meeting chamber, the tension was thick.

“…That was not what I expected,” Tony muttered, sitting in his chair backwards, arms crossed over the top of it. “Big-ass spear. Black eyes. Kaiju energy. And then—boom—she’s five feet of teeth and snark again.”

“She wasn’t the threat,” Peter said, voice quiet but certain.

“She nearly leveled the coast,” Natasha reminded, arms crossed.

“She saved it,” Peter argued, louder this time. “That other thing—the thing that looked like her? That’s what triggered it. She… she knew we wouldn’t believe her.”

Sam exhaled through his nose. “You think we made it worse?”

“No,” Bruce spoke up calmly, hands folded. “We didn’t make it better, either. That thing she turned into—it wasn’t just power. It was pain. I know it because I’ve been it.”

They turned toward him.

Bruce looked tired. But focused.

“When the Hulk and I were still fighting for control, that’s what it felt like. A drowning… rage. Like you’re in a box inside your own mind, screaming and clawing but no one hears you.” He tapped his temple. “I saw it in her eyes. She wasn’t just lashing out. She was losing herself.”

Rhodey frowned. “But she got herself back. Barely.”

“With him,” Peter added, glancing toward the door. “Jey. He’s the only one who pulled her back.”

T’Challa stood silently beside the screen still frozen on the moment—Zafina’s titan frame towering above the water, obsidian spear raised like a divine executioner. His jaw was set, but his mind was racing.

“She named her mother as Yemoja. Her father as Ogun,” he finally said, voice low. “Those are not mere titles. Those are Orisha. Ancient deities of West Africa.”

The room went still.

“You’re saying she wasn’t just born powerful…” Natasha murmured.

“She is divine by blood,” T’Challa confirmed. “Which makes her a target. Or a weapon. Depending on who sees her.”

“And Loki sees her as both,” Banner said grimly.

Steve folded his arms. “So what do we do?”

Fury stepped forward, arms behind his back, his expression unreadable. “We do what we should’ve done in the first place. We stop treating them like enemies. And start asking what they need.”

Tony snorted. “A little late for that.”

“Maybe,” Sam said, “but not too late.”

Peter looked up again, the pearl clenched in his palm.

“I don’t think she wants to hurt anyone,” he said. “But if we make her feel like she has to…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

No one had to.

Because they’d all seen it.

Chapter 146: “To Be Claimed Again”

The walls of the stateroom were quiet now—sealed off, insulated from the noise of the ship, the questions from mortal mouths, the murmurs of uncertainty and fear. In here, there was only breath. And heat.

Jey sat at the edge of the low bed, his shirt discarded, his strong hands still trembling slightly from the earlier chaos. The wildness in her had scorched him too—watching her transform, watching her lose the tether that kept her his. But now, here she was.

Zafina.

Soft, warm, and curled between his legs like the ocean drawn to its moon.

Her fingers traced the inked muscle of his chest, slow and teasing. She pressed a kiss there. Then another. A trail of lazy worship that spoke of hunger and homecoming.

“I’ve missed you, island boy,” she purred against his skin, the curl of her lips brushing over the curve of his collarbone. Her voice was velvet-drenched honey, thick with need, edged with reverence. “And I’m hungry…”

She didn’t mean food. Not the kind that came in wrappers and buns.

Her nose grazed his throat, inhaling him—him. His divinity. His rage barely tamed. His warmth that steadied her when the abyss clawed at her spine.

She licked, once, just above his pulse, savoring the thrum of it. Then again, slower.

“My divinity,” she whispered, her voice nothing short of sacred, “I want you to drown me again.”

A shiver rippled through her as she pressed into his chest, her thighs sliding across his lap as she straddled him, breath tangled with his.

“I’ve been wild,” she confessed, voice breaking like a wave against a reef. “Put me back in my place—within you.”

Jey growled, low and dangerous, his hands gripping her hips tightly like the sea finally reclaiming its tide. His head dipped, lips trailing along the slope of her neck as his breath hitched.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice thick with promise. “My storm. My sea.”

He kissed her mouth then—deep, consuming, with the weight of gods and centuries behind it. Her hands fisted in his hair, anchoring herself to the one soul who could steady her madness. And she let him take her—slowly at first, then like a wave crashing, claiming every broken piece she had offered, sealing them back into something only they understood.

His mouth found every inch of her that had trembled alone. Her body melted into his like a tide pulled into an undertow—desperate, grateful, worshipful.

No pleading now.

Only moans. Breath. Sacred silence and sacrilegious sounds as divinity rethreaded itself between open thighs and pulsing veins.

He didn’t just put her back in her place—he reminded her why it was hers.

When she finally collapsed into his arms, boneless and sighing, she whispered again:

“I’m whole now, Lohi.”

His name. The one only she used.

His hands wrapped around her spine as he kissed her temple, anchoring her there. With him. As it always had been. As it always would be.

Chapter 147: “The Pulse of the Sea” Jey’s POV

She lay beneath him like she was born there—like the curve of her hips had been carved to cradle his name. The chaos of the past few days, the blood and battle, the rage of gods and the bitterness of betrayal—it all blurred into silence now, swallowed by the sound he’d longed to hear since her transformation:

Her heartbeat.

That stuttering, frantic rhythm that had once slipped out of sync, drowned by something ancient and cruel, now thudded beneath his palm—steady, sure, sacred. Aligned with his own.

He pressed his forehead to hers, breath mingling in the warm space between them as his hips cradled hers, still deep inside her, still holding her where only he belonged.

“My heart,” he whispered reverently, his voice a low tide dragging over her skin. “You’re back.”

Zafina’s arms clung around his neck, her fingers gently tangling in his damp curls. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her body told him everything.

But Jey wasn’t done. Not until every part of her knew she was safe. Desired. Worshipped.

His lips moved to her jaw, trailing kisses like prayers across the line of her throat. “You’re the first breath I ever took,” he murmured, each word wrapped in heat and devotion. “The deepest part of the ocean, the salt in my blood.”

She whimpered softly, hips shifting to meet him as he began to move again—slow this time. Purposeful. There was no rush. No hunger to simply take. This was about re-anchoring them both. He needed her to feel it—to remember who she was when she was in his arms.

“Mine,” he growled against the swell of her breast before licking her nipple into his mouth. “Every curve. Every breath. Every scream you ever let loose into the waves… it’s mine.”

Her back arched with a soft cry, but it was joy this time—release and comfort tangled in the same note. He kept moving, their bodies undulating in a slow tide that mirrored the pull of the moon. His hand slid down between them, fingers circling the place he knew would make her fall apart for him all over again.

“You are divine,” he whispered into her mouth between kisses. “My goddess. My siren. My woman.”

Her legs wrapped tighter around him, and her nails dug into his back—marking him as he buried himself deeper inside her.

Jey watched her as she shattered again, her head thrown back in pure bliss, her voice whispering his name like it was salvation.

And there it was.

That moment. That pulse.

Two hearts—one divine, one devout—beating perfectly in sync.

He stilled inside her, still holding her as their breathing slowed, as her body trembled with aftershocks, as her fingers brushed his cheek.

“Perfect,” he whispered against her lips. “We’re back.”

And this time, nothing and no one would break them again.

Chapter 148: “We Are Tide and Moon” Still Jey’s POV

She tasted like seafoam and need.

Soft. Wet. Slow.

Jey kissed her like he’d waited centuries to do so again—because in his heart, he had. Every breath they had shared before her fall had felt like the last. Now, every press of his lips was a celebration. A confirmation. She was here. She was his. And her heartbeat thrummed in rhythm with his again.

Their bodies stayed tangled, bare under the silken canopy of warm woven furs and drift-shell linens. The world outside the cave of their haven could burn. He wouldn’t move.

His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, dragging across her pulse with reverence, then lower to her shoulder, her collarbone—soft, open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue brushing delicately over each place he claimed.

Zafina whimpered softly, her fingers threading into his dark curls, tugging him closer. Her legs shifted, sliding against his thighs, wet warmth pressing to his hips. She wanted him again—needed him—but this wasn’t the kind of hunger that devoured.

This was the slow feast of lovers reconnected.

He murmured against her breast, “I want to taste every place you forgot was holy.”

She gasped when his tongue circled the peak, teasing, his lips gently sucking until her fingers curled tight in his hair. “J-Jey…”

His name was a whisper and a plea. He grinned against her skin and answered with another kiss, this one just beneath her navel, dragging his lips over her stomach like a man praying.

“You are not just a goddess,” he whispered between kisses. “You are my goddess. My Zafina. The pulse in my palms. The waves in my chest. Let me have you slow, love. Let me worship you right.”

His hands glided over her hips, her thighs, spreading them gently as his kisses dipped lower. His tongue flicked out, tasting her—gentle and patient—and she choked on a sob, her hips arching.

But he didn’t rush.

He licked. Kissed. Sucked. Every motion slow and deliberate, as if he was reading poetry into her skin.

Zafina’s moans filled their cavern, breathless and sweet. Her legs quivered around his shoulders as she rocked into his mouth, but Jey didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. Even when she came undone with a soft cry and shudder, he kept going—soothing her, tasting every drop of her.

When he finally rose again, crawling up her body, his lips were slick and swollen from loving her, his eyes dark with need—but still gentle.

She cupped his jaw, breathless, eyes glassy. “Jey…”

He kissed her again—long and deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

“You ready, my ocean?” he murmured, rubbing the tip of himself against her center. “I’m going to go slow. I want to feel you take every inch.”

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and she nodded, lips parted, breath shallow.

He pushed in—slowly—inch by aching inch, and both of them moaned at the connection. His forehead pressed to hers, his body trembling as he seated himself fully within her.

And then… he stilled.

Just held her.

Just felt her.

Her body. Her heart. Her breath.

It was like returning to his own altar.

They moved in soft, sensual waves after that. No wild thrusts. No furious tempo. Just two divine beings moving in the rhythm of trust and return. Of worship and rediscovery.

And when she came again, her cry was his name, etched in worship into the cavern walls.

He followed with a groan, his lips locked with hers, releasing into her with devotion.

Breathless. Sated. Whole.

Their foreheads touched again. The sea whispered outside. Her pulse beat beneath his palm.

They were tide and moon. Pull and surrender.

They were back.

#jey uso x black oc #romance #x black oc #mature fic #jey uso fanfiction

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marleyelona · 3 months ago

Text

[ BLOOD OF THE FORGOTTEN! ]

Previous Chapter

Prologue

[ Fool Me Once ]

☆ 《》 ¤

CLARA SALVATORE's hair was like a train behind her, flowing like a silk dress in the wind. Leaves and sticks scrunched under her bare feet mingling with the sound of her torn, raggedy dress brushing against the overgrown grass. The breeze whistled through the tree tops, fanning against her face. Her chest heaved—her breath ragged, shallow as panic rose in her throat.

A hiss escaped her lips as branches strapped her skin, drawing blood that dripped down her arms, staining the material of her green, ankle length garment. Distant howls sounded from behind her, echoing through the wilderness.

Her head whipped around as she glanced over her shoulder anxiously. The sound of approaching paws pounding against the earth's surface and the unmistakable growl of an animal filled her ears, making her snap her head back around and increase her speed. Her knees buckled slightly as fatigue climbed up her legs like a slow-burning fire. But she couldn't stop, she had to keep going. Fighting through the pain, she continued to race through the woods as the pack grew closer and closer.

But suddenly, a violent, inhuman crack filled the air, followed by a painful whine, causing Clara to come to an abrupt stop, her feet skidded, forming a cloud of dirt around her. As her head whipped around, she let out a loud scream, ducking down as a wolf was sent into a tree behind her so hard its spine snapped, causing the witch to wince, her face contorting into a painful expression—she felt that herself.

But then, in the blink of an eye, another one was yanked back by the throat, his throat being torn out before Clara could even catch a glimpse of the attacker.

And then, in a flash, the third wolf fell mid-lunge and without a sound, neck twisted completely around.

For a moment, Clara sat there, her back pressed against a tree and her hand covering her mouth as her chest heaved up and down, her eyes wide—frozen in shock and slight fear.

But then, she saw him, emerging from the shadows—a man. Blood dripped from his mouth, coating his chin in the red substance, his clothes soaked and torn, surrounded by ripped-apart werewolves. But his expression—entirely unbothered.

Despite the carnage and the man's eerie behaviour, Clara found him to be quite good looking. His brown hair mirrored his dark eyes perfectly. His tall stature hovered over her very tiny frame. She did indeed find him very handsome. He's strong athletic build drew her gaze, causing guilt to claw at her chest. She was a married woman—she dare not stare at another man with such lust in her eyes. By the way he stood, his head held high with a smug smirk tugging at his lips, she could tell, he was very proud of his appearance, bordering on arrogance, which made a scoff escape her lips—her nose sticking up—her judgement was palpable.

The stranger stepped forward, offering her his hand, a light chuckled sounding in his throat, "You always did have a talent for getting into trouble, darling," he spoke in a thick English accent, so casually like he just ran into someone he knew at the market, which confused Clara, because she had never met this man in her life, but he seemed to know her. Before Clara got a chance to speak—everything went black.

A gasped escaped Clara's lips as her eyes shot open. But all she saw was darkness. She couldn't tell if it was night or day—time had become meaningless in the tomb.

The air was thick around her—suffocating. The scent of death filled her nostrils. The coppery tang of dried blood, long-since soaked into the stone floor, mixed with the sour, earthy stench of decay. Vampires didn't rot the way humans did, but they lingered—desiccated husks with sunken cheeks and hollowed eyes, some still upright, others collapsed in heaps, frozen in time like grotesque statues of suffering.

She could hear them too. Faint. Feral. The soft scrape of nails against rock. A hoarse breath that could've been a whisper—or a growl. Some were still awake. Others had gone silent long ago.

Her body trembled as she shifted slightly, the smallest movement sending a sharp pain up her spine. Every muscle felt withered, bones aching from disuse. Her magic—the thing that had once thrummed through her blood like wildfire—was nothing but an ember now. Still there...but hidden deep, coiled somewhere beneath the hunger and rage and grief.

She closed her eyes again and leaned her head against the cold stone wall behind her. It was the only thing she could trust—the wall had always been there. Silent. Unmoving. Like her.

And then, she heard it.

A voice.

Clara didn't know if it was a memory whispering to her or the familiar voice was actually calling out.

Down here, even her mind felt like it wasn't fully her own anymore.

But as the voice drew closer and closer, growing louder and louder with each yell—she knew it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her again—it was real.

Her husband's voice.

"Katherine? Katherine!" He shouted over and over again. And each time, it was like a stab to her heart.

A slightest croak escaped Clara's lips as she opened her mouth to speak, but her words caught in her throat.

Despite receiving no reply, Damon kept yelling. His voice echoed through the dark cave, bouncing off the walls. It felt like a drum was pounding in her ears, her head pulsed with an agonising pain.

But then, suddenly, his calls stopped. His footsteps could no longer be heard, dragging along the gravel surface. Along with them, was Clara's hope to escape this hellhole.

And then it hit her like a lightning strike, the smell of blood. As soon as she caught a whiff of it, simultaneous moans erupted from all around her.

Her entire body reacted. Her eyes flew open, dry and stinging, pupils dilating. Her muscles, limp and starved, tensed like a predator poised to strike—even though she could barely move. The scent was faint, just a whisper carried on the stale air of the tomb.

Then hunger clawed at her chest, snarled through her veins, and dragged a ragged gasp from her throat. A painful screech escaped her lips as her mouth shot open, though her lips were too cracked to part properly, as it felt like her gums were being torn open.

Her hands twitched with a struggle—it was like moving stone. For a second, she forgot where she was—forgot everything. All that existed was the scent. That single, intoxicating scent.

It was so close—she could almost...taste it?

And it woke something inside her—an urge to survive.

And before she knew it, she had managed to push herself to her feet. Dragging her soles along the graveled floor, a sickening growl escaping her lips as she stumbled over to the stone door, managing to pry it open.

Sunlight seeped through a crack in the cave, blinding Clara, who hissed, shielding her eyes with her arm and stepped back into the tomb. But then, a smile graced her face when she realised what she had just done.

For the first time in what felt like forever—she had stepped over that threshold—seen the sun—felt its burning rays on her face—she was free.

Words: 1247

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themculibrary · 1 year ago

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Flash Thompson Redemption Masterlist

A Soft Place to Land (ao3) - Ink_Vault betty/ned, flash/peter N/R, 98k

Summary: "With great power comes great responsibility." Yeah, right. More like, with great power comes stab wounds and bloody sheets and a hero complex that could take down even the strongest of men. And Peter, well, he isn't the strongest of men. Not to mention that Peter's hero complex doesn't exactly extend to himself.

May still doesn’t know that he’s Spiderman. Because of this, she also doesn’t know about his increased metabolism, hunger, strength, sensitivity, everything. He didn’t really notice, for the first few weeks, until he hears May on the phone with one of her work friends discussing how she didn’t realize how much teenage boys eat. Peter immediately stopped eating.

Flash knows something is up. He knows the signs, or at least he thinks he does. And he's going to get to the bottom of things, one way or another.

Bad Reactions (ao3) - orphan_account M, 5k

Summary: Flash finds Peter mid-panic attack, and for once, isn't an idiot about it.

don't you forget about me (ao3) - OnlyForward G, 8k

Summary: peter parker, ned leeds, michelle “mj" jones, cindy moon & flash thompson are all in school for saturday detention. as secrets get spilled, they get to know each other a lot better over the course of the nine hour day.

aka the breakfast club but midtown high edition

end of beginning (ao3) - webss312 mentioned peter/mj, pepper/tony G, 126k

Summary: Eight months ago, Spider-Man was killed in an explosion orchestrated by HYDRA, leaving behind his mourning friends and family.

Eight months ago, Peter Parker opened his eyes in an underground bunker, in a room with Director Fury.

The only one who knows of Peter’s continued presence in the land of the living is Fury himself, and he offers Peter a proposal— becoming an undercover SHIELD agent.

Fury's motivation: a HYDRA computer disk containing critical information– and Peter (enhanced, anonymous, and seemingly deceased) is the perfect undercover agent.

Peter’s motivation: protect his friends and family, and continue his duties as Spider-Man, in order to take down one of the most infamous supervillain organizations in the world. No biggie.

Everywhere you go (there’s someone after you) (ao3) - Spider_enthusiast pepper/tony T, 22k

Summary: And just like that Peter’s entire world collapsed. With all his luck, all of the gods, and all of the odds, he got placed with the one person he didn’t want. He turned to Ned and they shared a devastating look.

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Get to work!” Mr Harrison said, spinning his chair back to his desk.

Ned and Peter stood up, both grabbing their things. “We jinxed ourselves.” Ned mumbled.

Peter sighed, “I know.”

Or; Peter is placed in a science project group with Ned and FLASH, just his luck. Now he had to figure out how to get through this project while dealing with Flash’s sudden extra-passive-agressive-ness. What the hell was his problem??

Little did he know Flash wasn’t too excited about this either, especially not while finding files on Peter Parker in his own house. Why the hell did his dad have files about Peter and Spiders at OsCorp? And what the hell was an “enhanced one”??

Flash Thompson, First Aid Extraordinaire (ao3) - angels_creative, Brentinator T, 9k

Summary: Just barely managing to stumble through, Peter had all but a second before his knees buckled and he fell face-first into the rug beneath him. Breathing heavily, he could feel someone placing a hand on his shoulder, someone turning him over, but his eyes had already started to shut and he couldn't figure out who it was.

"Parker?" he heard, before he lost consciousness. "What the f—?"

(Or, Peter tries to get help after being injured on patrol, and accidentally reveals his identity in the process.)

Fosters, Brothers, Friends (ao3) - JAWorley G, 34k

Summary: Flash's parents die and he doesn't have any other family to go to, so he goes into the system. He's upset about his family, but also can't believe his luck when the social worker tells him he's going to be fostered by none other than Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. But then he gets up to the penthouse and is confused as hell to find Peter Parker there.

Flash can’t figure out what Parker’s deal is. He doesn’t understand why Peter has a bedroom in Tony Stark’s house, or why he is there every weekend, or why he gets to spend time in Tony’s lab, but Flash doesn’t. Flash isn’t a bad guy, even if he is sometimes a jerk. He learns that perfection doesn’t equal love, but sometimes imperfection is what makes a family whole. This is an Iron Dad fic through and through, but in an outsider POV format as Flash is discovering what's going on.

how to return home (ao3) - JBSForever T, 10k

Summary: Flash Thompson is a good person, but not a great one, so when Peter Parker accidentally gets drunk at his house party, all he can do is say, “Shit.”

- - -

Or: the one where Flash is just trying to be a decent person and get a drunk Peter home. Peter, on the other hand, has different plans.

Letters I Can Never Send (ao3) - Misscar past peter/mj T, 55k

Summary: Set post NWH.

For the first time in Peter’s life, he is alone. No friends, no May, no other Avengers, and no one that remembers who he is. All he has left is Spider-Man. So he starts over. If he keeps writing letters to May, nobody needs to know. There’s no one for him to tell anyway.

How Peter Parker rebuilds his life one month at a time.

Show Me a Piece of Your Heart (ao3) - happybeans T, 15k

Summary: Peter considers the pros and cons of telling Mr. Stark something important about his past. Meanwhile, he's busy with an investigation as Spider-Man and a Robotics project for which he's been paired up with Flash Thompson, of all people! How's he going to survive this one?

Smiling to the Mirror (ao3) - ambivalentangst G, 5k

Summary: Tony Stark meets Flash Thompson at a formal event neither of them wants to be at. He's not exactly expecting to see himself in the kid dressed to the nines and doing calculus at a back table, but life is full of surprises that way.

He's also not expecting the two of them to have a mutual friend, of sorts, but he's good at rolling with the punches—or knives, as it were.

Or, Tony Stark and Flash Thompson meet without knowing what they have in common, and this leads to some interesting situations.

Under the Surface (ao3) - Dwoality G, 10k

Summary: Flash overworks himself to sickness but luckily Peter, the angel that he is, is there to take care of him.

Walls (ao3) - faerialchemist T, 7k

Summary: “Miss Jones-Watson, you’re partnered with Mr. Thompson.”

Flash’s eyes found hers from across the classroom, and MJ gave him a curt nod to acknowledge their pairing. When his upper lip curled in distaste, she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

MJ was not looking forward to this.

We Can't Have Faith For Everybody (ao3) - Hale13 peter/mj T, 38k

Summary: It starts like this:

MJ and Flash, hands cuffed to each other and Peter, wrists and ankles held to the wall by thick metal cuffs and dangling in a way that’s surely to leave his shoulders aching.

The first week Peter, verbally, gives as good as he gets. He never lashes out physically and always does what their captors want the first time they ask. He still spends most of his time that he is in the cell chained uncomfortably to the wall. After the first week someone, apparently, decides that Peter is weak enough from the constant abuse and malnourishment that he is no longer chained up after his sessions; just dropped unceremoniously onto the dirty floor and left for MJ and Flash to care for.

Or:

Peter, Michelle and Flash get kidnapped to get information on Tony Stark.

You Will Be Found (ao3) - faerialchemist T, 13k

Summary: Peter snickered, shaking his head as he tucked his phone into his backpack before Ms. Ricci could catch him with it out in class.

Seriously, though, who would’ve thought?

Maybe “nice” was a word to describe Flash after all.

Or: 5 times Flash made an effort to be better, and 1 time he realized kindness begets kindness. After all, there’s plenty of love in the world for those searching with open arms.

(A Flash Thompson-centric 5+1 set between the events of There’s a Fine, Fine Line and If I’m What You Choose.)

#themculibrary #marvel #masterlists #mcu #flash thompson #flash thompson redemption #flash thompson masterlist #flash thompson redemption masterlist

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emberdoodle · 6 months ago

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And finally, here is the first human in the Galactic Self Defense System and the protagonist of Beyond the Galactic Boarders. I was trying to find techniques in hiding her prosthetics and still have not people batting an eye in a "this woman is hiding something" kind of vibe. Then I saw this arm sleeve thing on amazon and I thought it would be really cool on her. I then gave her a pink t-shirt with 3 bright green stripes of her lower right side because I thought it'll fit her personality well, and also I think it would be cool. I then gave her flared jeans with fern green mid-calf socks to hide her prosthetic legs better. And finally, red sneakers with black midsoles in it.

I imagine after she got her prosthetics, she sort of got her old personalities back (like, 77% present of it). Which is that she can be mischievous and talkative sometimes. She can also not shut up about her favorite books sometimes, she's also a book nerd. But due to her cptsd, she can be short tempered sometimes and also get panic attacks when something remines her of her past. She really empathetic and understanding when people are going through trauma when it's physically or mentally. She's also getting back into baseball as the batter after she got her prosthetics. She gets really annoyed when Alitstin and Sozuo keep checking on her when she's not at work to make sure she's not telling anyone (that is not her friends) about her secrets with the GSDS.

Name: Mandy Rose

Nicknames: n/a

Age: 19

Species: Human cyborg

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Birthday: October 22, 2004

Height: 5’5 (169 cm)

Weight: 155 lbs (70 kg)

Weapons: Divine Prime shooter, baseball bat

Abilities: Healing, intelligence, speed (via prosthetic legs)

Home planet: Hillfar, Maryland, United States of America, Earth

Native language: English

Role: Cadet, jobless (home planet), baseball batter (dreams crushed), astronomer (dream job)

Family: Clara Rose (mother), Donatello Rose (father)

Friends: Alitstin Trejind, Sozuo Cacer, Phinna Yegner, Justin Brown (childhood friend/crush), Riley Hunter (childhood friend), Kyle Caesar (middle school friend)

Likes: Space, stargazing, reading, baseball

Dislikes: Reliving her trauma, romance books, math, Kyle not shutting the hell up

Bio: Mandy used to be a really good baseball player and is dreaming of becoming one when she graduates from high school. But that all changed when she lost her right arm from a rabid animal attack and had to get it amputated at the age of 15. As a result, she quit the school’s baseball team. Then while on her way to get her first prosthetic arm a year and six months after the incident, she got into a car accident which mutilated both of her legs beyond repair and had to get both of them amputated and is now confined to a powered wheelchair. She finally got the prosthetic arm, but it gave her a 3 second delay which she found extremely annoying and irritating. Three years later, she saw a flash of light coming from her backyard, and out came 4 aliens who are members of the Council of the Unknown. But before they can kill her, she is saved by two aliens named Alitstin Trejind and Sozuo Cacer who are members of the Galactic Self Defense System. Mandy was scared at first from seeing real life aliens. But the more she learned more about them and the GSDS, she started to calm down. She was then taken to the mother ship hiding in Earth’s atmosphere and was surprisingly given new prosthetics for her right arm and for both of her legs. After quickly learning how to walk again, Mandy returns home and was told by Alitstin and Sozuo that she must come with them if her secret must be kept. Mandy refused and told her friends everything who unexpectedly came to visit her. After finding new clothes to hide her advanced prosthetics. Then all of a sudden, a Council of the Unknown alien kidnaps one of Mandy’s friends and Alitstin and Sozuo help Mandy rescue him which caught the attention of the leaders of the GSDS and Mandy defends Alitstin and Sozuo while also defending her actions. After a bit of talking, the trio were out of trouble and offered Mandy to join the GSDS. Mandy said yes, but on one condition: she must return to her homeplanet and have days off like a normal job back on Earth. They agree, but she must hide her prosthetic from the rest of her planet except for her friends. And the deal was set. Mandy is now a cadet with Alitstin and Sozuo being her mentors and the very first human to be a member of the Galactic Self Defense System.

#beyond the galactic borders

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taiblogcomics · 10 months ago

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As Good As Green

Hey there, deer crackers. Well, it's Thursday, and that means it is another comic review and not a terrible soda. Frankly, I'm not sure which is worse. Both leave a bad taste in your mouth. Finishing a single issue of Countdown is quicker than drinking that soda, but finishing all of Countdown takes much, much longer. And in today's example, both of them are even green! I guess I'll leave this one to the philosophers~

How green is my cover?

Hey, a few months ago, do you remember me early on alluding to the idea that Kyle Rayner might show up in this series? Surprise, Kyle Rayner has finally shown up in this series. You can't escape editorial mandates forever, Kyle! And while this cover does look good (let's get that out of the way), it won't save this series! And while we know you were the Jesus metaphor of the Green Lantern books, it won't help you here. At least we're getting that imagery from someone other than Superman for once, though~

Recap time! Donna Troy, Jason Todd, and pals are looking throughout for Ray Palmer, this series' saviour figure, but got caught by a magical queen. Pied Piper and Trickster were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Wally West won't forgive. Karate Kid and Una are on a long fetch quest to heal the sick. Mary Marvel got the Judas treatment for over-trusting Klarion the Witchboy. Jimmy Olsen receive magic god powers he doesn't know how to use. And Holly Robinson and Harley Quinn are the chosen champions of a different pantheon altogether. Now let us pray we can get through this issue~

So we open right where we left off for once, with Flash interrogating Trickster and Pied Piper after having beaten the hell out of them. They're still trying to beg for both mercy and belief on their tale of the attack on Green Arrow's wedding. Here's another weird bit: Piper also claims they've been implanted with explosive chips in their necks (standard Suicide Squad setup). How or why this happened when they already have a lethal electric handcuff to keep them in line, I don't know. But Wally vibrates the chips out of their necks and blows them up over the harbour.

With the revelation that the explosive chips were true, Wally is inclined to believe them about other things they're saying. For now, at least. Wally then demands details, but all Piper and Trickster know is that Deathstroke is planning "something", and will kill them if it gets out they squealed. Wally calls up Zatanna for help, and the instant they hear her name, Piper and Trickster panic about mindwipes and try to run away. However, they get caught up in whatever teleporter Wally is using, and beam away with him.

So the mindwipe thing is a reference to Identity Crisis, which was already on the required reading for Ray Palmer's backstory leading into this. Long story short, Dr. Light used to be a much more reprehensible villain and attempted sexual assault on Ralph Dibny's wife back in the day. He was caught mid-act, and the Justice League voted to mindwipe him to make him more docile. Dr. Light eventually recovered his memory, but I don't know how or when this became public info among the supervillain community as a whole, particularly reformed ones like Piper and Trickster. But it's hardly the only goof in Countdown's plotting, now is it~?

Speaking of Ray Palmer, the Multiverse Crew out looking for him sure seem to be in a spot. Donna Troy and Queen Plot-Irrelevant are still fighting, and Ryan Choi (now full-size, not trapped, and not a bug) keeps Jason Todd from jumping in. Jason instead opts to help Bob the Monitor. Bob is also inexplicably freed from Queenathon's control. Thankfully, before this can get any more confusing, Kyle Rayner descends from on high to deus ex machina our way out of this plotline. He knocks out the queen, pulls Donna free from the multiverse hole, and joins the party. He's also uncharacteristically flirty with Donna, which stood out to me as a Green Lantern reader.

So Mary Marvel is being held prisoner in a magic bubble, with the intent of being sold. But then Klarion suggest she covers her ears, and as she does so, she's suddenly struck with some sort of sonic spell. Turns out, the bubble Klarion made was a shield, as she was being targeted by another magician, who didn't like her approaching his stall uninvited. Klarion's just playful with his intentions. He doesn't have any ill intentions or desire for compensation himself, he's just a good witchboy. Well, except for maybe a tiny bit of her own power…

So you want confusing shit, huh? We join Jimmy Olsen as he's running through the streets, doing things. Most of these things include dodging a blue sedan tailing him. Truly the most sinister of all cars. This is just very confusing, as it drops us into this instead of building up to him noticing he's being followed as he leaves Steel's lab. Either way, this is all pointless, as his escape gets cut off--he's a guy trying to avoid a car on foot, after all--and a guy steps out. He explains he's the director of Cadmus Labs, and wants to throw his resources behind helping Jimmy solve his problems. Surely this meeting could've been an email~

So Flash has teleported Piper and Trickster to Zatanna's mansion, where guests are staying for the wedding. He assures them they don't mindwipe anyone anymore, and he's just stashing them somewhere safe until he can look into their lead. He also refuses to undo the handcuffs, since he doesn't fully trust them yet. As soon as Flash leaves, the two of them start fighting again. Trickster thinks it's still a trap to be mindwiped, and Piper wants to stay put. So Trickster punches Piper out, and tries to escape, only to trigger one of Zatanna's magical defenses: a mummy with a sword. The finest in home security!

So, to finish up, we return to our cover group. Say, does following five characters around seem like a lot? The comic sure thinks so, as suddenly a giant hand reaches out of the sky, picks up Ryan Choi, and pulls him out of the story. This is probably explained in his solo series, but I haven't read it (I should fix that some time). Kyle and Donna want to go after him, but Jason points out that he's not the Atom they're looking for, and they should move on. Bob concurs, and while the other two don't like it, the comic ends with the four of them heading off for more filler. I mean, adventures.

Well, I'll admit, this isn't an awful issue or anything. Kyle's introduction and promotion to main cast member feels really out of nowhere, even if it was technically foreshadowed way back. Ryan Choi's departure is also very abrupt, and the comic never even gives you a "Find out what happened to Ryan in All-New Atom #whatever", which would at least be something I could look up. Pretty sure that's his last appearance or even mention in Countdown, so fuck you if you wanted closure, I guess~

#comics #reviews #Countdown #Countdown to Final Crisis #Taiblog

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shawnxstyles · 2 years ago

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panty stealer 2

DATE: JULY 12, 2023

summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.

requested: so many times yes!

words: 11.2k!! woah

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff

note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again

—

so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.

he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.

was that dramatic? maybe.

you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.

peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.

every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.

and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.

peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.

in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.

not much of a treat, huh?

outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.

flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.

—

knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.

you were becoming important to him, a priority.

he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.

ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.

the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.

after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.

like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.

for you.

peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.

you have got to be fucking joking.

your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.

god, he wanted to touch you so bad.

he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—

“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”

well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.

using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.

without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.

peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.

he came back.

“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”

“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.

“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.

“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”

“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.

“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.

“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”

peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.

“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.

“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.

“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”

close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.

his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.

who is peter parker?

fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.

“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.

“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.

your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.

“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.

your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.

without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.

although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.

peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.

“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.

“y/n.”

“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.

“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?

“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.

“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”

your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.

“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.

a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?

you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”

“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”

“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.

how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?

“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.

no time for beating around the bush.

“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.

“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.

“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.

“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.

“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”

“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.

he must live at the gym.

“you started talking about sex first!”

he’s not wrong.

“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”

your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”

just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.

“you have to go, don’t you?”

“i’m sorry—”

“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.

he is obsessed with kissing you.

however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.

“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”

you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.

a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.

“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.

ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.

you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.

not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.

“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.

you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…

“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.

you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.

—

those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.

you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.

you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.

at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.

you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.

without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.

violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.

“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”

“what? who said anything about a guy?”

“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”

“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.

“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.

not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.

“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.

“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”

“but the party is in–”

“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”

–

for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.

your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).

and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.

you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.

you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.

violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.

however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.

she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.

“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”

“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.

you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.

–

peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.

he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.

why would you?

peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?

you were moaning his name.

he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.

god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.

like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.

taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.

is that you? how did he miss you?

moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.

but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.

he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.

releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.

he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.

even though that’s all he really wants.

“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.

he nearly faints when he sees your costume.

short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.

maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…

“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.

“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”

there’s no dancing around it.

now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.

“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”

peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.

“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”

“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”

“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.

“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”

“superman is a great superhero—”

“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.

“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.

“nothing,” peter shrugs.

“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”

“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”

“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.

and just like that he’s in control.

“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.

“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.

“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.

“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.

“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.

but tonight everything is different.

unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.

looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.

peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.

he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.

“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.

“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.

“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”

“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”

“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”

“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.

“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”

“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.

why was it so much easier when he broke in?

he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.

“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.

“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.

“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.

“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.

“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.

when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.

your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.

you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.

when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.

“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”

just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?

after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.

“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.

“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.

so why are you nervous?

but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”

after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.

his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.

trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.

“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”

you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.

lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.

“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.

“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.

a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”

with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.

“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”

you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.

but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?

“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.

“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.

“do you care if i rip them?”

“what?”

“can i rip them?”

“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”

“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.

“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.

peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.

his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.

“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”

“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.

“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”

“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.

“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.

“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.

you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.

your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.

his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.

you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.

“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”

“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”

so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.

he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?

“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.

“yeah, just… thinking.”

“good or bad?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.

“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.

“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”

you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.

“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.

“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?

“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”

“don’t think you’re really capable.”

“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.

as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.

you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.

“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.

“i-i can’t,” you whine.

“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,

“it’s too hard.”

“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”

peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.

“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”

you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.

“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”

“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.

before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.

he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.

the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.

peter hoped the same thing.

“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.

“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”

“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.

“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”

peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.

“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…

for another time.

his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.

“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.

“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”

“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”

“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”

“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”

the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.

peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.

“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.

“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”

“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.

“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.

“i would–”

“oh, there’s a but coming.”

“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.

he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.

peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.

once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.

“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”

although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.

his girl.

“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”

“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”

he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.

–

“what are you doing? come on!”

“what if they see me?”

“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.

it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.

you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.

you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.

“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.

“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”

“definitely.”

“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”

“uh… yeah. sorry.”

“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.

you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.

even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.

“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”

“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.

“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?

peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.

“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”

“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.

“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”

your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”

and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?

within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.

“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.

“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.

when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.

as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.

your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!

is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.

when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.

wait… love?

–

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.

note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @sylum @harrys-humble-housewife @blurazbabe @introverbatim @piperparker7 @graceberman3 @tommy-braccoli @fioooweeooweeeoo @conrad4life13

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#shawnxstyles #peter parker #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland smut #peter parker fics #peter parker fanfics #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fics #tom holland fanfics #peter parker one shot #tom holland one shot

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mari-positas · 2 years ago

Text

to hell and back l two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, reader has a flashback, mentions of slavers, implied threat of assault, guns, reader gets groped, reader has a panic attack, a lot of angst, trauma. soft Joel, protective Joel, and i even threw in some domestic Joel because just imagine that old man making you a nice lil late night snack. 🥹 i think i got most of the major warnings out of the way, i’m sorry if i missed anything!

Word Count: 8.7k

Smoke was coming off my jacket

and you didn’t seem to mind

I left a long trail of ashes and

you said, I like your style

California l Spring, 2023

Your hand trembled slightly as you gripped your pistol and aimed it at his chest.

You’d never pointed your gun at another human being before. At least not one that was still alive.

“Hey now, it’s alright. You can trust us.”

Anxiously, you glimpsed from the man who had just spoken to the woman who stood beside him.

Surely the two had to be related. Both possessed the same fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and vivid green eyes. They stood before you with their weapons lowered in an attempt to show you that they weren’t a threat to your safety.

The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, moved to step forward, but halted in his tracks when he caught sight of the way your finger had twitched over the trigger. “My name is Mark,” he said, carefully gesturing to himself with his free hand. In his opposite hand, he clutched his rifle, an assault style weapon that made your gun look like a fucking toy in comparison. Still, it was you who had the upper hand, at least for now. “This here is my sister. Her name is Jessa.” He paused and when you said nothing, he asked, “Can you tell us your name?”

Chewing your bottom lip, you shook your head at him in response.

You didn’t trust them.

Not quite yet.

Jessa, who was younger and looked to be closer to your own age, offered you a kind smile. “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell us your name until you feel comfortable.” She took a look around at the small, makeshift camp that you had made for yourself. “Are you all by yourself, sweets?”

You quickly wracked your brain.

“No,” You fibbed. “I’m with my father. He should be back any minute now. He’s armed and he does not take all too kindly to strangers, so you’d best be on your way before he sees you.” You added in a steadier tone, “He won’t even think twice. He’ll just kill you on the spot, so you better leave right now. Or else.”

Amused, Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, come on now, dollface. You don’t have to lie to us,” he stated, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again and let’s be honest this time, alright? How long have you been alone?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed harshly.

Fuck.

He had seen right through the bullshit threat.

“For about three or four days now,” You admitted, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I was with my father and my sister. The three of us were on our way up north. We were trying to get to Seattle to the quarantine zone, but then they were—”

You suddenly stopped.

It felt like someone had driven their fist right into your gut, knocking all the wind out of your lungs and hindering your ability to speak.

You couldn’t even say it out loud.

Gruesome images of them being torn apart limb from limb flashed through your mind. Bile slowly started climbing its way up your throat and your stomach churned violently.

You were going to be sick.

“Are they both dead?” Mark questioned you.

You nodded, whispering shakily, “Yes.”

Jessa frowned. “I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. If it’s any consolation, me and Mark know exactly how it feels. We lost our entire family about three years ago. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.” Swinging back her own rifle behind her, she approached you and reached out, placing her hand over yours—the one that was still clutching your weapon. She didn’t even so much as flinch at the way the barrel was now pointed at her, how it was just an inch or two away from her chest. It didn’t seem to faze her that all it would take was you bringing your index finger down a bit harder on the trigger and she would be dead. “We know you must be fucking terrified, but it’s okay. You can trust us. We’re good, honest people and we just want to help you. But we can’t do that if you try and kill us, now can we?”

Slowly, Jessa guided you to lower your gun. She then looked over her shoulder, exchanging a look with her brother, as if asking him to back her up.

“Yeah. She’s right. We just want to help you,” he repeated after her. “We aren’t going to hurt you. If we wanted to, we probably would have by now, don’t you think so?”

You let out a tiny breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding and loosened your iron grip on your pistol.

He did make a fair point.

Now that your gun was pointed at the ground, he could have easily killed you. And yet, he’d made no move to blow your fucking head off.

Maybe they really were good people.

But what if they weren’t?

What if it was just a trap?

You didn’t know what to fucking think.

All you knew was that you were so helplessly lost now that your family was gone.

You were afraid.

Alone.

Jessa turned back to you. “Listen, we’re part of a settlement,” she informed you. “It’s not all too far from here, maybe six or seven miles tops. We’ve got a really big group of people and we’re always looking to bring in anyone in need. Come with us, sweets. There’s plenty of food, water, and we can you into some fresh, clean clothes too. How does that sound?”

You momentarily hesitated, still unsure whether or not you could trust the two strangers.

How did it sound?

It sounded too fucking good to be true.

“It’s a safe place,” Mark assured you from behind her. He could see the reluctance written all over your face.

“It’s as safe as safe can be,” Jessa promised. She touched your arm and flashed you another smile, one that was more kind than the first—one that was so comforting it made you feel like you could actually trust her. “So? What do you say? Will you come back with us? Will you let us help you?”

You nervously bit the inside of your cheek.

Scared, starving, and exhausted, their offer for a safe haven was much too tempting to decline.

Besides, how long could you possibly survive out here all on your own?

“Alright,” You finally agreed after a moment. “I’ll come with you.”

“There’s just one condition,” Mark stated, falling into step beside his sister in front of you. “We’re going to need you to hand over your weapon.”

“What?” You stared at him. “Why?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s protocol,” he said, waving a hand dismissively at you. “It’s purely for safety reasons. Anyone who comes into our group must surrender their weapons. We want to be sure that we’re bringing in someone who isn’t going to be a threat to our people. We have children, so we just want to be cautious, you know?”

“I guess that does makes sense,” You admitted.

“You’ll get it back,” Jessa reassured you. “Once you speak to the council and they determine you aren’t a threat, you’ll get your gun back. Okay?”

Left with very little choice, you agreed. “Okay.”

Mark held out his hand for the weapon.

Slowly, you placed your pistol in his open palm.

“Perfect.” Jessa chirped. “Now grab your things and let’s get going. If we hurry up, we can make it back before nightfall.”

Nodding, you turned around to grab your pack.

The second you turned your back, the barrel of the same gun you’d just handed to Mark poked you between your shoulder blades and you froze, your blood running cold in your veins.

“Hands up, bitch,” Jessa commanded. Her warm and friendly tone had vanished. “And turn around towards me slowly. Now.”

Terrified, you did as you were told and you lifted both of your hands, turning around on the heel of your sneaker to face her.

Her expression, much like her tone, was frigid.

Hostile.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say when I say it.” She held up her rifle, aiming it at you. “And if you don’t, you fucking die. Do you understand?”

“Please,” You choked out. “Don’t—”

“Do you fucking understand?” Jessa repeated in a hiss, her finger hovering over the trigger. When she was met with a small, meek nod, she turned to look at her brother. “Cuff her.”

Mark smirked. He tucked your gun away into the waistband of his jeans and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of rusted handcuffs. He walked around and stood behind you, instructing, “Hands behind your back.” Once he had both of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to slip on the cuffs, tightening them so hard that the old oxidized steel dug painfully into your skin. “She’s a pretty one,” he murmured. As soon as he made certain the cuffs were securely fastened, he put a hand on your ass, groping it roughly. “Oh, you’re going to be popular with the guys, dollface. Kind of makes me want to break you in, right here and right now—give me a few minutes with her, Jess.”

Completely paralyzed with fear, all you could do was stand there in silence as his hands continued to roam your lower body, feeling you up through your jeans. He squeezed at your inner thigh, then brushed up over your zipper.

“Mark! That’s not what she’s for, you idiot,” Jessa reminded him, rolling her eyes. “Now quit fucking around and let’s start heading back to camp.”

She whirled around and started leading the way.

Mark grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear as he whispered in cruel reassurance, “Don’t you worry, now. I’ll get my chance with you—we’re all going to our chance with you.”

He grabbed you by your upper arm and roughly shoved you forward, leading you to what would inevitably be hell on earth.

Joel leans against the tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes are fixed intently on you, carefully observing you from where he stands, more so out of concern rather than curiosity. Something isn’t right.

It’s late in the afternoon and the two of you had been about halfway into the six hour trek down south to Jackson when Joel offered to stop for a while, just long enough for the both of you to rest and take a quick breather, find a second wind before finishing the journey—but as he continues watching you, Joel starts to realize that perhaps stopping had done you much more harm than it’s done you good.

Just a few feet away from where he’s standing and keeping a watchful eye on you, you sit perched on top of a small, flat boulder hugging your knees up to your chest with both hands wrapped tightly around the grip of your pistol.

You’re in a trance like state, staring straight off into the distance at nothing in particular. Your face is completely blank. Emotionless. It appears that while all the lights are on, nobody is fucking home.

Squinting against the sunlight, Joel takes a closer look at you. He sees it so clearly, the faraway look in your eyes.

You are gone. You’ve checked out and completely disconnected from reality.

He would go as far as saying you’ve disconnected from this fucking planet.

You’re sinking, slowly drowning in some kind of thought or perhaps it was a memory—whatever it is that’s currently preoccupying your mind, it sure as hell isn’t anything good. He has no fucking clue how he’d managed to clock it so easily, so quickly, but Joel had sensed something was wrong the instant you’d drifted off.

The deeper you go and the further you lose yourself, the harder your hands clutch at your grin, the thin delicate skin on your knuckles stretching taught over the bones. It’s not until Joel notices the way your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as your breaths quicken, the way you start struggling for air, that he knows it’s time for him to intervene before you worsen and suffocate under the weight of whatever it is that’s sitting so heavily on you.

Pushing himself away from the tree, Joel begins to approach you, taking extra care so as not to spook you into turning your pistol on him and pulling the trigger in a moment of panic. He lifts both of his hands and holds them out in front of him. Cautiously, Joel makes his way over towards where you’re sitting on the boulder, his footsteps slow and careful.

“Hey,” he calls out to you, keeping his tone firm, but somehow still gentle as he tries to garner your attention. When you don’t even acknowledge him or his presence, he tries again, speaking a little bit louder. “Hey. S’okay. S’alright. Everythin’ is alright—come on back now.” Joel draws closer and closer to you, taking tiny step after tiny step on the steel toes of his worn, black leather boots. “S’alright, darlin’. I need you to come back to me now, okay? You ain’t where you think you are. You’re alright—”

The sound of a twig snapping underneath his boot startles you. Jumping to your feet, you aim your gun at him with shaking hands and wild, terrified eyes.

Even as your finger trembles over the trigger, Joel remains calm. “Hey, c’mon. Take it easy. S’okay. You’re alright. Look, it’s me. It’s just me and I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to hurt you,” he swears. He shows you his empty hands, hoping that you would be able to snap out of it and realize that he isn’t a threat. That you aren’t in any kind of danger. But as you hold your weapon, chest heaving as you panic, Joel knows it doesn’t matter that his hands are empty. It doesn’t make a fucking difference. He knows it isn’t him who is standing in front of you.

It’s someone else. Whoever you were seeing standing there in his place, it’s someone who had done god knows what to you. Joel has a gut wrenching hunch it had something to do with the marks he’d seen around your wrists back at the cabin. The mere thought of it is enough to send an unpleasant chill up and down the length of his spine.

Joel speaks again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He feels the sudden urge to reach out for you, but knowing it would be unwelcome, he resists it. All he can do is try and use his words to bring you back to the present. Back to him. “Breathe. You’re safe. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me? Do you think you can breathe for me, darlin’?”

Somehow, his voice penetrates its way in through the thickness of the white fog that you’d been lost in. You had been stumbling around helplessly in it, desperately searching for a way through. Joel’s heavy, deep Southern drawl permeates the memory, causing the haunting images from that fateful day when your life had taken a sharp turn for the worst to dissolve into nothing.

“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Inhale through your nose, then out through your mouth. Easy does it.” Joel controls his own breathing, slowing it down to demonstrate. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth.

You stare at him with wide eyes as you fight to get the rise and fall of your chest to match his. How the hell do you know what to do?

Joel can practically hear your question ringing in your mind amidst the chaos. “My kid, she gets these awful nightmares sometimes. Wakes up in a panic thinkin’ she’s somewhere else, somewhere she ain’t safe. So my brother’s wife, Maria, well she was kind enough to show me what to do whenever it happens. She taught me a couple different breathin’ techniques that help soothe Ellie and calm her down. Told me it helps if I do them with her,” he explains to you. He can tell that you’re now coming out of the worst of it and that you’re finally starting to get some oxygen back into your lungs. He lowers his hands. Your pistol is still aimed at him, but Joel trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off. “C’mon, breathe. There we go. That’s it. Easy does it, now. In through your nose and out through your mouth, that’s it. That’s a good girl.”

It takes you a good minute or two, but your breaths fall into sync with his own and before you know it, the two of you are breathing together in harmony.

Oh. You’re not in California.

The man standing before you doesn’t have red hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have that twisted smirk on his face. He isn’t putting his hands on you. He’s not hurting you. He’s helping you.

Swallowing dryly, you lower your weapon. Your gaze meets Joel’s and somehow you find the courage to look him in his eyes for the very first time. Even though you had turned your gun on him, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it all. He isn’t upset or angry. The look of worry on his face has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you could have easily killed him just now. It’s as if he’d known for certain that you wouldn’t pull the trigger.

“There we go,” Joel says after another minute passes by. “You see? You’re alright. You’re safe.”

There’s comfort in his words, in his deep brown eyes.

Fuck, there’s comfort in him.

Still. Your mind refuses to allow you to accept it.

At least, not completely.

Averting your gaze, you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other and then back again.

Joel clears his throat lightly. “It’s gettin’ real late,” he murmurs. “We should get a move on. We’ve still got a bit of a way to go and we really don’t wanna get ourselves caught out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere after dark for too long, y’know?”

You give him a small nod and start to gather up your belongings. You pick up your canteen, which is now almost completely empty after you’d shared your water with him during the first leg of the hike, and shove it into one of the side pockets of your back.

“S’kinda cold,” Joel states. “And it’ll only get colder as nightfall approaches. You, uh—you warm enough in that little denim jacket?”

You shrugged a shoulder at him, not thinking anything much of the question. I’m fine.

However, as if on cue, a chilly breeze blows its way through Wyoming’s plains, causing you to shiver.

Joel quickly shrugs out of his brown jacket. “You mind if I—?”

You toss him a confused glance.

Do I mind if you what?

Joel steps towards you and lifts his arms as if he’s going to put them around you. Flinching, every muscle in your entire body goes rigid and he halts. “S’alright. I’m just gonna give you my jacket, that’s all,” he assures you, his arms frozen midair. He patiently waits for a small nod of approval. Once he has it, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and then takes several steps back, giving you your space. “Should keep you from freezin’ your ass off out here.”

As he turns around and walks over to where he had set his rifle down, you stand there somewhat stupefied over what he’d just done. Something so simple, and yet you can’t seem to wrap your fucking brain around it.

Willing yourself to move, you carefully slide both of your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping it around your body. The scent of him, a mixture of earthy sandalwood and whatever soap he uses to wash his clothes, fills your senses and a strange, but pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest, gradually spreading itself to the rest of your body from head to toe.

Ignoring the feeling, you pick up your backpack along with your bow and quiver of arrows, slinging everything over your shoulders.

Joel slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and turns back to you. “Ready to get goin’?”

Pistol in hand, you gesture for him to go ahead and walk in front of you, much like he’d done for the first half of the trip.

He lets out a small sigh. “Alright, I get it. Still don’t fully trust me. Well, we’ll keep workin’ on that, then.”

A couple of hours had gone by. The slanting rays of the setting sun give a warm orange tinge to the skies as late evening begins settling itself in.

“Y’wanna know somethin’?” Joel asks, breaking the silence between you.

You look up at the back of his head, your eyes fixing themselves on his mop of thick, unkempt salt and pepper waves. Occasionally, as you’d been slowly trudging along behind Joel, you stole glimpses of the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and brushed against the collar of his henley.

Despite the lack of a response, Joel continues to talk. “Earlier at the cabin, just when I was startin’ to come back around, I heard a woman singin’ to me. At least, it sure seemed like she was singin’ to me. It was a real pretty song too.” He glances over his shoulder at you with curiosity. “Was that you?”

You blink at him, keeping a straight face.

“Hm, no I s’ppose it wasn’t you,” he answers his own question. He turns his attention back to the path ahead of him. “I reckon that it must have just been some sorta dream I had while I was out cold. But it sounded so vivid, y’ know? It sounded so fuckin’ real. And the strangest part of it all is that I don’t know how it’s even possible for me to dream of a voice like that,” he muses aloud.

Oh? Unable to help yourself, you move yourself from behind Joel and fall into step beside him. Now it’s you that’s riddled with curiosity. What do you mean by that?

Joel glances down at you. He grips the leather strap of his rifle and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice quite like that in my whole entire life,” he tells you. He shrugs once more, his arm brushing against yours by accident. Joel half expected you to deck him for it, but much to his surprise, it doesn’t seem like his touch had bothered you. “It was too fuckin’ gorgeous. So beautiful that part of me wonders if it was someone or somethin’ out of this world.” He pauses and peered at you, detecting a slight glimmer of light in your eyes. “Felt like I had a real life angel singin’ to me.”

You feel the corners of your lips threatening to turn upwards into a smile. Turning your face away from him, it takes everything you had in you to force them back down.

“Well look at that. You’re walkin’ right next to me,” Joel observes after a minute, raising an eyebrow.

Your head whips back around.

“Must mean that I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh darlin’?”

You snort and roll your eyes.

I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.

Still, you remain at his side.

The rest of the trek is silent.

Night had just fallen by the time that you and Joel finally made it to Jackson. The moment that you set your sights on the massive wooden gate out in the distance, your heart begins to pound, slamming against your ribcage.

The closer the both of you draw to the barrier, the easier it is for you to see the men and women who are standing on a platform on top of the gate, heavily armed as they keep watch—their lights illuminate the perimeter of the settlement and light up the velvet purple sky.

You stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck that.

Joel shakes his head. “S’alright. Don’t be scared.”

There’s six people standing on top of that gate armed with fucking assault rifles. And you don’t expect me to be scared? Are you for real?

“Look, things might be a little tense at first when the patrolmen see us,” he admits, raking a hand through his hair. “None of them have any idea that I’m still alive, but as soon as they see that it’s me, they’re gonna stand down. All I need is for you to stay calm and follow my lead, alright?” He nods at the pistol in your hand. “M’also gonna need for you to put your gun away and out of sight.”

You glare at him, your eyes flashing angrily in the darkness.

You said I could have my weapons on me.

Joel holds up his hand. “I promise that I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you, alright? I swear it on my fuckin’ life,” he vows. “You have my word. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. Just stay calm and do as I say. Please,” he adds, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. “Y’think you can do that for me?”

Your mind is screaming, begging you to run and run fast. Instead, you find yourself reluctantly tucking your gun into the waistband of your jeans, concealing it just like Joel had asked you to do.

“Stay behind me,” he instructs, shoving his own rifle behind him. He begins leading the way towards the gate and beckons for you to follow close.

The second the two of you step out from the darkness and into the light, the sound of firearms cocking breaks through the silence of the night.

“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Freeze! Or we’ll fucking shoot!”

“Melissa, it’s me!” Joel calls out, holding up his hands. “It’s Joel!”

“What?”

He huffs and yells again, “It’s Joel!”

“Wait a goddamn minute, everyone fucking stand down!” Melissa loudly barks the order at the five other patrol men and women who are standing on either side of her with their firearms aimed and at the ready. “Joel? Joel Miller, is that really you?” She leans her body forward over the gate and squints at him, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Well butter my fucking ass and call me a goddamn biscuit, the man is fucking alive! Quick, open up the gates! Somebody go and get Tommy! Let’s go, fucking move it people!”

Joel drops his hands, sighing in relief.

You, on the other hand, are scared shitless and wonder if it’s too late to make a run for it.

“Remember,” he says, looking back at you. “Calm. Okay?”

You force a small, tight nod of your head.

Okay.

The gate’s doors pull apart and he leads you up to them and through to the other side where you and Joel are met with a frantic crowd of at least two dozen people—the obnoxious, overlapping chatter coupled with the blatant stares you’re receiving cause an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to wash over you in a massive wave that, if you allow it, is going to drown you right there on the spot. Refusing to make eye contact with anybody, you fix your gaze on Joel, keeping it focused on the broadness of his back as more and more people circle around the both of you, caging you in with nowhere to run.

“Joel!” Melissa elbows her way through the large crowd, rushing up to him. She grabs him by the arms, giving him a quick once over. “Holy shit! We thought you were fucking dead! I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Where’s Tommy?” Joel asks her.

“At home with Maria. Lisa went to pull him out of bed—where the hell have you been, Joel? It’s been three fucking days!”

Joel purses his lips together tightly. He can feel you inching yourself forward, trying to stand as close to him as possible as more people join the scene. The toes of your boots touch the heels of his, your chest lightly brushing against his back. While Joel doesn’t blame the people of the town for being curious, he isn’t all too fond of the way they’re staring at you—the gestures and the finger pointing, the mutters and the whispers. He doesn’t have to see you to know it’s making you uncomfortable, and his priority is to get you out of there and somewhere where you would feel safe. “Listen, it’s a real long story that I ain’t got time for right this minute. I need Tommy—”

“Miller!”

A loud, booming voice comes from behind Melissa.

It belongs to a tall, bulky blond haired man—his mere presence is intimidating, proven by how it had taken absolutely nothing for the crowd to part and make room for him to pass through. Smirking, he saunters up to Joel and remarks, “I thought you were a fucking goner.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

The tension between the two men could be sliced with a fucking machete.

His blue eyes flit over Joel’s shoulder to you. “Well, well, well. Who is this sweet little lady?”

You step even closer to Joel, pressing yourself against his backside and taking a fistful of his shirt.

“None of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”

Keith’s smirk widens. “Actually, as head of safety and security for this community, it fucking is my business,” he reminds him. “She infected?”

Joel raises his eyebrows. “Does she look fuckin’ infected to you?”

“You know the commune’s rules, Miller.” Without tearing his eyes away from you, Keith calls over his shoulder, “Bring out one of the hounds! Now!”

Behind him, Joel hears a small gasp.

Hounds?

Joel whirls around. “Hey, s’alright,” he says quickly before you can start to panic. “We have dogs that have been trained to sniff out the cordyceps infection. S’just gonna smell you, that’s all.”

The crowd backs away as a woman with cropped hair brings out a large black dog on a chain leash attached to a brown leather harness. Once it catches sight of you, the unfamiliar newcomer, the animal begins to bark and growl, thrashing around as it tries to lunge towards you. The dog tugs and pulls at his leash so violently that he nearly knocks his handler over. The woman unclips the leash and sets the dog free—it approaches you, snarling and baring its teeth.

You start to back away, but Joel stops you.

“Relax,” he mutters to you under his breath. He moves to stand beside you and holds out his hand, offering it in an attempt to comfort you and ease the fear. He hadn’t expected you to accept it, so when you place your hand in his and lace your fingers with his own, he’s taken by complete surprise.

You squeeze his rough, calloused fingers as the dog comes closer towards you. Nervously, you hold your other hand out to it, prompting it to snap at you, its teeth snapping together. Somehow, you muster enough courage to hold your hand steady and the animal growls, but then gives it a sniff. When it doesn’t detect what it’s searching for, the dog happily wags his tail and gives your hand a friendly lick before running back over to its handler who puts the animal back on the leash.

You breathe out in relief.

“There,” Joel snaps at Keith. “You satisfied?”

Keith clicks his tongue. “Almost,” he drawls. He walks over to you, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What’s your name, dollface?”

Your stomach drops at the nickname. Looking down at the dirt, you don’t reply.

“Aw, she’s shy! Well isn’t that just adorable.” Keith lets out a raspy laugh, causing a couple of the onlookers to laugh along with him. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? Hm? Cat got your tongue?”

Joel drops your hand, his nostrils flaring. “Back off asshole or else—”

Ignoring him, the blond patrolman eyes the weapon hanging on your shoulder. “That’s a really nice bow you’ve got there,” Keith states, cutting off Joel’s threat. “But we do have rules here. Newcomers have to surrender their weapons so they can be stored away securely. We don’t know you and until we can know for sure you won’t be a threat to the people of this town, you’re going to have to surrender that bow along with all other weapons you’re carrying.” Keith lowers his voice as he adds, “And I would advise you not to try and hide anything because I’m going to be the one to pat you down—and I’ll be thorough. I don’t take all too kindly to liars, so keep that in mind.”

“You just threaten her in front of me?” Trying his hardest not to cause a scene with so many people watching the three of you, Joel keeps his voice low and quiet—but the sharp, dangerous edge to his tone can’t be missed.

“Of course I didn’t,” Keith responds, innocently. “All I was doing was letting her know how we work around here in Jackson. We’ve been operating the town the same way for years now for a good reason. The rules we set in place apply to any and all newcomers, regardless of who they came here with.” He holds out his hands to you. “Surrender all of your weapons to me. Now.”

Shaking your head, you take a step back. This was not what you’d agreed to. This wasn’t the promise that Joel had made you back at the cabin.

Joel glares at him. “She ain’t surrenderin’ a goddamn thing—”

It’s too late.

Keith steps towards you and goes for the bow. As his hand shoots out to take it from your shoulder, you quickly turn your body and swiftly dodge it. He feels his face burn with red hot anger as several onlookers gasp at your act of rebelliousness. Furious, Keith reaches for you again and grabs you, taking the upper part of your arm in a harsh grip that makes you squeak out in pain.

You lift your opposite arm and swing a curled fist up towards his face, but he catches your wrist in his other hand before it can connect with his jawline.

Joel!

You try to say his name, but you fucking can’t.

Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. For as hard you push and try to force it, you can’t find your voice. Instead, all that falls from your lips is a pathetic, strangled little cry. You yank and pull, struggling as you try to tear yourself out of Keith’s grasp.

Livid, Joel nearly goes fucking blind with rage. He snatches Keith by the collar of his leather jacket, ripping him away from you. Though he’s still sore as from the fall off of his horse three days ago, he uses every ounce of strength he has left in him to throw him down into the dirt at the feet of a fellow patrolman named Wyatt. “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.” He barely manages to bite out the words through gritted teeth. “Ever.”

Wyatt helps him up to his feet. “You alright, man?”

“Get the fuck off me!” Keith snarls, pushing him away. His chest is heaving and his face turns a deep shade of red. Whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s angry, no one can quite tell the difference. One thing is for damn sure, he isn’t used to someone going against his authority and everyone watching holds their breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. After all, the man going against him happened to be their leader’s brother in law. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem, Miller? It’s protocol—”

“Not today it ain’t.”

Keith approaches him, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He stands so close that the two of them are chest to chest, ready to tear each other to shreds. “Do you think just because your fucking brother is second in command, you can just do as you please? Is that it?” He questions, bitterly. “It doesn’t fucking work like that. We have rules set in place for a reason, Joel. We are going to do this by the fucking book whether your little girlfriend here likes it or not, got it?”

Stepping around him, he starts towards you but Joel is quick to block his path. He stands in front of you and squares his shoulders.

He speaks, his voice dangerously low. “You listen and you listen good. If you even so much as think about layin’ another fuckin’ finger on her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of tonight pickin’ up your teeth off the ground. You understand me?”

“That a threat?”

“It ain’t a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

Keith pulls his arm back and he’s about ready to take a swing when he’s stopped by the sound of Tommy Miller’s frantic voice.

“Joel! Where is he—where the fuck is Joel?”

The much younger, raven haired man approaches the scene, shrugging a blue denim jacket over his cotton white t-shirt. The instant that he spots Joel, he runs up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders. “Fuckin’ Christ, I thought I fuckin’ lost you out there! What the hell happened?”

“Where’s Ellie?” Joel demands. “She okay?”

“She’s fast asleep at my place with Maria and the baby. She’s been with us this entire time.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief.

Tommy looks around, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s everyone doin’ out here?” He then sees you and raises his eyebrows at his older brother. “Joel? Who’s that?”

“Look, I’ll explain everything, can we just—can we talk in private?”

Although he’s confused, Tommy nods.

“Of course. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy states as soon as Joel had finished recounting the story—well, what he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t much.

You’re sitting beside Joel across the table from Tommy and Maria in the kitchen of their home. All three of them speak in quiet, hushed voices so as not to wake Ellie and Samuel, Tommy and Maria’s infant son. Maria had offered to go upstairs to pull Ellie out of bed so that she and Joel could reunite, but when Tommy mentioned tonight had been the first night since Joel had gone missing three days ago that she had finally managed to fall asleep, everyone agreed it would be best to wait until the morning.

“So, she saved your life,” Tommy concludes. His brown eyes, even darker than those of his older brother, flicker over to you once again. You sit there in complete silence, staring at the top of the wooden table, refusing to meet his gaze—or that of his wife.

Joel nods. “She did, Tommy. I don’t fuckin’ know how, but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be sittin’ here at this table right now.”

You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair. Though the couple had been kind to you, it didn’t make it any easier when they stared at you like you had a second head.

“She saved your life and you don’t even know her name?” Tommy’s in complete disbelief.

“No. She doesn’t talk.”

Maria hums. “I have an idea. Let me find her a notepad or something to write on,” she suggests after a minute. She stands up, wrapping her cotton blue robe around herself, concealing her pajamas as she walks over to the kitchen counter. It takes her a bit of digging around, but in one of her junk drawers, she finds a pen and a small notepad. She makes her way back over to the table and sets the items down in front of you. “Can you write down your name for us?”

You don’t move a single muscle.

“It’s okay, honey. Just write down your name—”

“Best we don’t push her too much,” Joel warns her, holding out his hand to stop her from coming too close into your space.

You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “You ain’t gotta tell us anythin’ until you’re good and ready. Alright?”

Tommy clears his throat. “Joel? Can me and you have a quick word in private please?”

Your heart skips an anxious beat.

No, wait! Please don’t leave me.

Less than eight hours ago, you’d been wary of this man, unable to fully trust him. Now, just the mere thought of him leaving your side puts you on edge.

“S’fine, we’re just gonna be out in the hallway,” he assures you. “It’ll only be for a minute or two.”

Realizing you didn’t want to be left alone with her, Maria jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards the gas powered stove. “I’m going to make myself a hot cup of chamomile tea. I can boil water for an extra mug if you’d like some?” she offers, warmly.

You’d turned down food and water already, much too afraid to accept anything from her. However, a warm drink did sound tempting and truth be told, Maria did seem like a nice woman. She’s Joel’s family—maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at the very least try and trust her too.

Finally, you nod your head.

“Great,” Maria smiles, looking pleased. “I think it’ll do you some good. Chamomile is very soothing. It helps me relax—something that’s hard to do when you have a fussy six month old,” she kids as she whirls around and goes about preparing the tea.

After making certain that you’ll be fine without him, Joel follows Tommy out into the hallway.

“Joel, what were you thinkin’ bringing her here?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy sighs. “We need to be careful about who we bring into Jackson—”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? You worried about this girl bein’ a threat?” Joel stares at him in complete shock. “You serious, Tommy?”

“For all we know, she could be a threat. She didn’t want to give up her weapons, Joel! She even took a swing at Keith!” He hisses. “And she did it in front of a fuckin’ crowd!”

“He put his fuckin’ hands on her—”

“She didn’t cooperate, Joel. You know damn good and well what happens when someone isn’t willin’ to cooperate with the rules. It leads to nothin’ but trouble and you know it as well as I do,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her first impression here wasn’t a good one. And to make matters a whole lot worse, we don’t know anythin’ about her. It’s a risk takin’ her into the community.”

Joel can’t even believe what he’s hearing.

“So you’d rather I just left her out there alone?”

“Look Joel, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” Tommy reminds him, quietly. “If she’s managed to survive out there all on her own for this fuckin’ long, then who the hell knows what she’s done or what kind of blood is on her hands—you might be thinkin’ that she’s some helpless little victim, but maybe she’s not. Hell, we’ll never know because the girl can’t fuckin’ talk. Or maybe she just won’t talk. Either way, we’re runnin’ a huge risk by takin’ her in without knowin’ who the hell she is or where she came from.”

Joel glares at him. “Listen here, whether she can’t talk or just won’t talk, that doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he says. He pauses briefly, long enough to take a peek back into the kitchen where you’re still sitting at the table. After she’d finished making the tea, Maria took the two steaming mugs and sat down in the chair beside you. She’s now trying almost desperately to get you to write down your name on the notepad. He immediately notices the way that you’d started wringing your hands together anxiously in your lap and he knows you’re debating in your mind whether or not you should reveal your identity to the stranger. He turns back to his brother with a frown. “She ain’t a helpless victim. She’s a survivor. She saved my fuckin’ life out there, Tommy. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead right now.”

“And where is she gonna stay?”

“With me and Ellie, of course.”

Tommy almost laughs. “Wait. You’re gonna be in charge of her? Someone who won’t fuckin’ talk to you? Whose name you don’t even know? Are you serious?”

Joel doesn’t even think twice about it. “Yeah.”

“Look Joel, I know you can be kind of a fuckin’ dumbass, but you can’t possibly be this goddamn dumb, big brother. Think ‘bout it—”

“I already have thought about it. She’s stayin’ with me.” Joel shrugs. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but maybe I can get her to trust me enough to talk to me.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think she can talk and she’s just choosin’ not to?”

“I think she wants to talk, but she can’t. She’s too scared right now. But if I can get her to really trust me—”

“That girl ain’t gonna fuckin’ trust you, Joel.”

“She trusted me enough to come to Jackson,” he says, fiercely. “That has to mean somethin’, I just know it does.”

Tommy exhales a long and heavy sigh. He already knew just how fucking stubborn his brother could be. There’s no changing Joel’s mind once it was made up.

Maria steps out into the hallway. “No luck,” she tells them, shaking her head lightly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. If she’s too terrified to even give us her name—”

“It must’ve been somethin’ real bad,” Joel finishes for her. He places his hands on his hips. “I think I might have some idea of what happened to her.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Joel lowers his voice as he briefly tells Tommy and Maria about the scars he’d seen around your wrist. “Like she’s been in handcuffs or somethin’,” he murmurs. “Think it could’ve been FEDRA?”

“Possibly.” Maria thinks it over for a moment. “There’s also a good possibility that she’s been a prisoner in a slave camp.”

Slavers.

Joel’s stomach churns at the thought of it. He’d heard about those kinds of groups, about the cruel and inhumane things they did to their prisoners.

He fucking hoped that wasn’t it. But something in his gut told him not to be so goddamn naive.

“Listen, we feel for the girl, Joel. We do,” Tommy admits. “And we’re willin’ to give her some time to adjust, same as we did with you and with Ellie—same as we do with all newcomers. But regardless of what she’s been through, she’s still gonna need to pull her weight around here, just like the rest of us. She’s expected to take on work duty just like everybody else. It’ll be hard findin’ the right job for her if she’s not gonna talk to anyone so the sooner you can get her to break her silence, the better it’ll be,” he advises. He points a finger at his brother. “From this point on, she’s your responsibility.”

“I can handle it, Tommy.”

“For your sake, I really hope you can.”

“Good to know you’ve got faith in me,” Joel makes the sarcastic comment under his breath, but he’s certain Tommy had heard it. “It’s gettin’ pretty late now. She’s exhausted and so am I. M’gonna take her back to my place and get her settled in for the night.”

“What ‘bout Ellie?”

“Best she just stays here with you two tonight. As soon as she’s up in the mornin’, you can bring her on over to mine if that’s alright with you and Maria?”

Tommy nods. “You got it, brother.”

“Besides, I figure it’ll give me a bit of extra time to think of how I’m gonna explain everythin’ to her.” Joel suddenly realizes that he hadn’t given much thought about how he was going to tell Ellie about you—how he was going to explain your condition to her and how you’d be sharing a roof with them from this point on.

Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that one.”

Rolling his eyes, Joel roughly shoves past him and back into the kitchen.

You hadn’t drank the tea Maria had made you, but you’d wrapped your hands around the ceramic red mug to warm them up.

“C’mon,” he beckons to you with his hand. “Let’s go. M’gonna take you home now.”

Home.

The word rinds oddly in your ears.

You stand up from the table.

“Wait.” Maria picks up the notepad and pen, handing them over to you. “Here. Take these with you. Just in case you decide you want to use them.”

Joel pushes through the front door, switching on the lights in the foyer of his home before stepping aside to let you in. He watches as you stand there at the door looking rather apprehensive. “It’s okay, darlin’. S’just me and you here tonight.”

Carefully, you step over the threshold. When was the last time you’d even set foot in an actual house? One with running water and electricity?

You couldn’t remember.

Joel shuts the front door behind you and locks it. “Let’s go upstairs.” He gestures for you to follow him up the cherrywood staircase. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow in the mornin’,” he promises you over his shoulder. At the top of the staircase, Joel switches on more lights that illuminate a short hallway. He points to a door at the end of it, stating, “That one there at the end, that’s mine. This one here is Ellie’s. We also have a third spare, it’s right across from her.” He nods with his head towards the door of the bedroom he’d been referring to. “Go on. Open it up and check it out for yourself.”

You want me to open the door?

Seeing your expression, Joel chuckles. “Go on. It’s alright. There’s nothin’ bad in there. I promise.”

You momentarily hesitate. Fingers trembling, you reach out and grasp the brass door knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. You peek inside and flip the light switch next to the door frame.

You gasp. Holy shit, is this fucking real?

The spare bedroom is fully furnished with light oakwood furniture—a dresser up against one wall, a desk nestled in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the most comfortable, full sized bed that you’d ever seen. The décor is minimal, but whoever had occupied the space before had a clear adoration for simple, warm, earthy tones. You nearly smile at the shades of mud brown, forest green, and autumn orange. Setting your things down on the hardwood floor, you make your way over to the bed and sit down, planting your hands firmly on either side of you. You relish in the softness of the cream colored duvet comforter.

“I’m guessin’ you like it.” Joel can’t help but grin a little. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if I can get you one of my shirts or somethin’ that you can sleep in. Make yourself comfortable.” He spins around on the heel of his boot, disappearing into the hallway.

Unable to resist, you lay back onto the bed. Your body sinks into it, melting right into the mattress. It feels like a fucking cloud.

Joel reappears in the room just seconds later. “I can see you took what I said about makin’ yourself comfortable quite literally.” His voice causes you to shoot back up into a sitting position. Joel stands there at the door holding a long sleeved, navy and white flannel shirt in one hand—in the other, he’d been holding a gray hooded sweatshirt and from his arm swings a brown canvas tote bag. “Not too sure what you would prefer to sleep in. I figured you might want somethin’ on the warmer side. Here’s a couple options to choose from. I’ve also got t-shirts if you’d rather sleep in one of those.”

Standing up from the bed, you walk over to him and he holds out the articles of clothing for you to see better. It’s his flannel you gravitate to the most. Taking it from him, you run your fingers over the fabric.

“I can throw your clothes in the washing machine for you first thing tomorrow so they’ll be clean by the time you wake up,” he adds.

You breath out shakily.

A fucking washing machine.

“Overwhelming, ain’t it?”Joel drapes the hooded sweatshirt over a nearby chair, deciding to leave it for you as well. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same when I first got here with Ellie. It took a lot of time for the both of us to adjust to this new way of life after being out there for so long,” he confesses to you. “The important thing is to take it one step at a time, darlin’. And somethin’ is tellin’ me the next step for you is probably takin’ a nice hot shower?”

Your mouth falls open. A hot shower? Hot?

“You’ll have to share a bathroom with Ellie.” Joel leads you out of the bedroom and to another door adjacent to yours. He shows you the bathroom, telling you which knob in the shower was for hot water and which one was for cold water. “You can use Ellie’s shampoo, m’sure she won’t mind. I’d offer you some of my own, but I don’t think you’ll wanna walk around smellin’ like sandalwood and spice.” Joel hands you the canvas bag he’d had draped over his arm. “Here. Should be pretty much everythin’ you’re gonna need. There’s a bar of soap, a couple clean washcloths, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. There’s also a razor.” He pauses. “It’s a men’s razor, one of mine I’ve never used, but I reckon it does the job just the same as a woman’s razor.”

Amused, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What the hell are you trying to say? That I need to shave?

“Not that you have to use it,” he adds quickly, his cheeks burning bright red at what you thought he had been insinuating. He shifts awkwardly from boot to boot. “I tossed it in there just in case you’d want to, but you ain’t gotta use it, that’s not what I meant at all—”

Deciding you don’t want to see him squirm, you lift a hand up to stop him and shake your head.

Truth be told, you actually couldn’t fucking wait to shave your legs.

Calm down, cowboy. It’s all good.

Realizing he hadn’t offended you, Joel relaxes. “I’ll let you get to your shower. You take as long as you want, but just try and leave some hot water for me since I’m next,” he chuckles. “As soon as we both get all cleaned up, we can meet downstairs in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed. Deal?”

Deal.

He’s about to leave you to it when you stop him, grabbing his arm. Wait a second, Joel.

Joel’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”

Thank you.

Your gratitude might have been silent, but it was there and he knew it.

Feeling brave, Joel reaches up and places his hand over yours for a moment, his thumb brushing against the softness of your skin. “No need to thank me, sweetheart.”

Letting his hand drop away from yours, Joel then turns and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy.

Once you have the hot water running, you kick off your boots and start to peel off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor near the door. Completely naked, you turn your back towards the oval shaped mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, unwilling to take a look at the scars on your body—painful reminders of the cruel punishments you’d endured during your time in captivity.

You grab the toiletries from the tote bag Joel had given you and set them on the side of the tub. Pulling the yellow floral curtain aside, you step into the shower and position yourself directly underneath the scalding hot water, letting it burn your skin to give you an entirely different kind of pain to think about, even if it was just for a minute until your body adjusted to the temperature of the water and it no longer hurt.

You begin washing yourself, trying your hardest to keep from crumbling. But you couldn’t. Lump in your throat and a tightness in your chest, tears brim your eyes, ready to fall.

You’re willing to let them.

Two years. For almost two fucking years, you had been suppressing your emotions. You’d been in a constant survival mode, there had been no time to feel anything. And now here you were, standing in a fucking shower with all the freedom in the world to just let it all out.

Silent sobs wrack your body, bringing you down onto your knees.

Joel’s shower had been a quick one.

You hadn’t left him very much hot water—but he couldn’t even be mad about it.

He pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He haphazardly dries off his hair and makes his way downstairs, knowing you would be heading down there any minute now to meet him like you’d agreed. Without much time to make a proper meal for you to eat, Joel goes about the dimly lit kitchen and prepares a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. He’d just plated them and set them on the table when the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor prompts him to look up.

His breath catches in his throat. You stand there in the doorway wearing nothing but his flannel shirt. The hem of it falls to the middle of your thighs, and it takes everything in him not to think about the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt. His fucking shirt.

Clearing his throat lightly, he makes sure not to let his gaze wander where it’s not supposed to. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you?”

You sigh softly. Oh, you have no fucking idea.

Noticing you’re holding your hands behind your back, Joel shoots you a puzzled look. “What’cha got there?”

You bring your arms forward. Clutched in your hands is the notepad and pen that Maria had given you.

Although he takes it as a sign that you are willing to communicate with him, Joel knows better than to get too far ahead of himself. He’d wait until you were ready to make the first move and he’d follow your lead. “I made you a sandwich to eat,” he tells you, pulling out a chair at the table. “C’mon, come have a seat.”

After you sit down, Joel goes over to the sink and fills two glasses of water, one for you and one for himself. Setting them down on the table, he finally takes a seat across from you—that’s when he notices the redness in your eyes. You’d been crying. Even though he wants to ask you if you’re alright, Joel decides against it for the time being and the two of you eat in comfortable, tranquil silence.

“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry,” Joel offers when you polish off the last couple bites of your sandwich.

Shaking your head, you place your hands on your belly signaling that you’re full. You’re not, though. You’d eagerly scarf another three of them down if you could, but you were a lot more exhausted than you were hungry and you couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed upstairs and get some sleep..

Joel studies you. “You okay, darlin’?”

You shrug. This has just been a lot to process.

“I know it’s gonna be tough for you. It’s like I told you earlier, it’s gonna take some time to adjust to your new life here in Jackson. But I need you to know you ain’t alone anymore. I’m gonna be here to look out for you. And trust me, I know you don’t really need me to.” Joel pauses and shoots you a crooked little grin. “Hell, you took a swing at Keith. You’ve got bigger fuckin’ balls than half of the men in this town. Includin’ myself.”

You let out a huff of amusement from your nose and the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile—you don’t try to force it down.

Joel blurts the words before he can even think to stop himself. “You’ve got a real nice smile, y’know.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you move your empty plate off to the side and grab your pen and notepad. You swiftly scribble something onto the blank page, then slide it across the table to Joel.

He picks it up, an odd sensation fluttering inside his chest when he realizes what you had done.

You’d written down your name for him.

He says it out loud, and then looks up at you.

“That’s a real beautiful name.” Sincerity drips from his tone, going hand in hand with his compliment.

Cheeks burning, you glance down at your hands, which you’d begun wringing together on top of the table. It was out of nervousness, but this kind was different. You couldn’t quite explain it.

“I know it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a hot shower and a sandwich to get you to trust me. But I swear that I’m gonna do whatever I can to show you that you ain’t got anythin’ to be afraid of. Not with me around. Okay?”

Okay.

You open your mouth, trying to repeat the word back to him.

Joel’s eyes widen slightly. You wanted to talk to him—you were actually trying to talk to him. But it was a clear struggle. Something wasn’t letting you find your voice.

Clamping your mouth shut, you sigh and sink back into your chair. I’m sorry. I can’t.

“It’s okay,” he says, softly. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time. Together.”

#to hell and back fic #to hell and back #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller comfort #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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bookish-whore · 3 years ago

Text

Falling Part IX

Azriel x Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Discussions/Allusions to SA, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Lots of Cursing.

A/N: Hello Lovelies! Thank you all for your patience with this chapter it has been a crazy two weeks for me. Considering we are on Chapter 9 now I can safely say that this fic will be a bit longer than the 10 chapters I initially anticipated (oops). Thank you all for your continued support on this story and as always, my requests are open and I am slowly making my way through them!

My Masterlist -> Here

Falling Masterlist -> Here

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I was on the mend.

Since arriving back in the Day Court, Helion put me on a strict regimen, he was taking my recovery very seriously. I had a daily routine now, granted it had only been a few days, but Helion said that a establishing a routine would be good for me to have. He told me that knowing what’s going to happen throughout my day would decrease any anxiety and keep me from panicking and having any other episodes. So far, he has been right. I haven’t had any panic attacks since waking up that initial time. He also said that fresh air and sunlight can do wonders for my physical body, and for my mental health, which is why I was currently making my way downstairs to meet Lucien for our daily walk through the gardens.

I saw Lucien pacing at the foot of the steps, as he had done since we began these walkabouts.

“Good morning Vanserra” I said, the male halted his movements when he heard my voice

“Good morning my dearest y/n” he said, extending his arm to me with a smile. I hooked my arm under his and together we made our way outside.

We walked for a while in comfortable silence, Lucien knew how much I loved the gardens here. They were full of such vibrant colors and such a vast array of flowers it was like I was in a different world; it was like a brief escape from all of it.

I led us to one of the stone benches placed throughout the space, it was my favorite spot in the garden. There was a clear view of the pond, sparkling in the sunlight and where we sat, we were under a canopy of wisteria. I enjoyed the sweet, floral, and slightly musky scent as it wafted through the gentle breeze. Lucien was the one to break the silence.

“Are you ready for the big reunion?”

I wrung my hands in my lap “Not really” I said looking down at my hands

“Why is that?” he asked turning his head towards me to meet my gaze

“Well, if I’m being honest, I feel nervous. I know it’s just Feyre and Nesta and I am so grateful you wrote to them, but I’m worried they will see me like- like I’m damaged or broken. That they will somehow think of me differently. Think of me as- as weak after what happened.”

“They would never see you as weak, or broken, or damaged. Not after what they have been through.” He took my hand in his “and regardless of what anyone thinks you are strong, one of the strongest people I know. What happened to you wasn’t because of anything you did, or didn’t do, and I know you are trying to cope by pushing people away but we- the people who love you- aren’t going anywhere.”

I nod my head “I know” I say, just loud enough for him to hear

“Now, come on” he jerks his head over his shoulder “lets finish at the pond I know how much you love feeding the ducks”

I flash a smile at him, and we make our way toward the pond. I can’t help but feel a sense of calm about the big visit later. Lucien’s words had managed to put my mind at ease.

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I took my time getting ready for this meeting.

I had an extra-long soak in the bath, until my fingers were wrinkled, and the water had become tepid. Once getting out I put on an outfit I felt comfortable in, which happened to be an oversized cream sweater that hung to my mid-thigh, dark leggings, and thick wool socks. After getting dressed I sat at my vanity to fix my hair, I decided to put it in a simple braid to keep it out of my way but as I looked in the mirror, my eyes were drawn to the faint circle of purple, black and blue around my neck. As I stared at the markings I began to reconsider.

I brought my hand up to graze my fingers across the lingering bruises, all at different stages of healing but still visible were anyone to look at me. I suddenly felt self-conscious at the idea of my friends seeing the evidence of that night. I could feel the panic rising and remembered the breathing exercises Helion taught me and began to ground myself, mostly by reminding myself that I was here in the Day Court, that I was safe, that what happened was over. After a few minutes I regained my composure and stood. I wouldn’t let that male take anything else from me, I wasn’t going to cower from the bruises or the scars that I carried with me. With a final deep breath, I made my way downstairs to meet my friends.

I opened the double doors and entered the room I had picked for this meeting. I had chosen an intimate library with tall shelves lining two of the walls, the other wall housed a massive ornate fireplace, and the final wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rose gardens. It also had a comfortable sitting area with two long couches, two large armchairs and a table in the center, which was perfect for tea and cakes which Helion insisted we have, something about sugar being calming for the nerves. I didn’t dare argue.

I took up my seat in one of the armchairs, facing the doors when a soft knock sounded. I shouted for the visitor to enter to find it was just Helaena, one of the housekeepers, bringing the tea and desserts for me and my guests. Once she was finished, she promptly left, closing the doors behind her and I was once again alone. I looked at the clock atop the mantle on the fireplace and realized my guests would be arriving any minute, the thought had me picking at my cuticles as I did when I was nervous.

I found some comfort in the knowledge that Lucien would be there, I had asked him this morning if he would stay for the reunion, to intervene if he saw it was too much for me, and like the good male he is he agreed without complaint. However, I was still nervous to see the others. I know that Lucien was right this morning when he said they would understand but so much has happened since we last spoke that it seems like another lifetime. I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard faint voices down the hall. They were here.

I stood from my seat, wiping my palms on my thighs to get rid of the sweat that had accumulated in my anticipation of their arrival. A soft knock sounded.

“Come in” I shouted, my voice cracking at my choice of volume. The double doors swung open and there they were. We all stood frozen, just staring at each other.

I locked eyes with Feyre first, she was smiling at me, a faint flicker of silver lining her blue-grey eyes. Knowing her, they were tears of relief, tears of happiness. My gaze shifted to her right to find Nesta with her usual smirk that never gave away her true emotions, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. They were both looking at me as they always had.

And finally, I shifted my gaze to the other female who had accompanied them.

I immediately recognized the auburn hair, sparkling teal blue eyes, and warm smile. I had to fight the tears from spilling because Gwyn had come. Gwyn who had only begun leaving the House of Wind a few months ago – and had only gone so far as Rita’s – had made the long journey to a new place to be here for me. My knees threatened to buckle under me, and I immediately crossed the room pulling all three of them into a bone crushing hug. I couldn’t stop the swell of emotion as we stood there, simply holding each other.

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After what felt like hours spent in a tight embrace, We finally took our seats around the table; Lucien chose to sit across the room to give the impression of privacy. We sat silently, pouring tea, and rationing out cookies and cakes from the assortment that had been brought in. After everyone was served, I decided to initiate the conversation.

I cleared my throat “I feel like- like I owe you an explanation for why I left the way I did”

Feyre interjected “Y/n, there is no need for that”

“I know that” I say flashing Feyre a small smile “but I’m sure you were worried sick at the fact that I just vanished, that I only left that note. I know that I shouldn’t have taken my anger at Azriel out on you guys and for that I’m sorry”

“After what happened” Nesta took a sip of her tea before continuing “and after what he said, I don’t blame you y/n. In fact, I let him know exactly what I thought about his actions the other night”

“What is she talking about?” I asked looking between Feyre and Nesta for any indication of what had happened between them.

“Well, after you left, we all had dinner at the House of Wind and your whereabouts were a point of conversation” Feyre said “Tensions were running high and after a suggestion that you be brought back to the Night Court Azriel made his opinion known about our plan to visit…Nesta made her opinions on his behavior quite clear.”

“What could he possibly have to say on the matter?” I asked

“That Feyre and I shouldn’t come; he made a comment to that extent…but enough about him” Nesta said “We are here for you”

Feyre and Gwyn nodded at that as the attention shifted back to me.

“How has it been here?” Gwyn asked gently taking a bite of lemon cake.

“Lucien and Helion have been amazing. I mean they rarely leave me alone, not that I particularly want to be alone right now, but they have treated me so well.” I paused a moment before I could continue “but even though they’ve been nothing but accommodating. I still have this feeling…just this overwhelming feeling of nothing, its like an endless pool of numbness. I can plaster a smile on my face, and laugh, and act normal but it’s not really how I feel.”

The three females all nodded in understanding.

“And I am terrified that this feeling is all I am ever going to feel again. Like, that night has irrevocably changed something in me. Changed who I am, how I see the world.” I wiped a tear that cascaded down my cheek “and I don’t want it to, I don’t want to give that male any more than he’s already taken but I don’t know how to get back to who I was before.” I dropped my head into my hands as the tears began to fall.

Before I could register what was happening, the three of them were at my side. Feyre on my left, rubbing comforting circles along on my back as I cried. Nesta on my right holding my arm as she tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear and Gwyn sat in front of me, her hands cupping my face while her forehead rested against mine.

Nesta was the first to speak after my admission. “Do you remember that day all those months ago after you first saw Azriel and Elain together?”

I wiped my nose on my sleeve, nodding

“Do you remember what I told you then?” I nodded again looking directly at her. I thought back to that morning, the words repeating themselves in my head

“What did I tell you?” she gently prodded

“You said” I took a shaky inhale “I can’t tell you when…or how; but it will get better. That I will get through it, as long as I am willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it. That I need to push through my pain to come out on the other side.”

“That’s right” Nesta said “I would tell you the same thing now y/n. You cannot change your circumstances, nor can you fix the past. All you can do is continue to move forward.”

Gwyn spoke then “Nesta is right, healing isn’t linear, and some days will be worse than others, but you aren’t alone in this you never have been, and you never will be.”

I nodded my head in recognition of what she said but went silent as I heard a faint commotion in the hall and the familiar scent wafted into the room and I froze.

...night-chilled mist and cedar.

Azriel was here.

As quickly as the thought crossed my mind, the double doors opened and there he was. I couldn’t help but look him over, he was wearing his fighting leathers, his siphons giving off their usual cobalt glow and his wings flared behind him. His hazel eyes burned into me as he stalked his way across the room.

Lucien stood first intercepting the male by placing a hand on his shoulder, halting him from moving any closer.

“Back off Vanserra” Azriel barked under his breath.

“Not a chance Shadowsinger” Lucien said, pushing Azriel back towards the door. Lucien jerked his head and a fae guard approached taking hold of Azriel’s other arm, helping Lucien haul him out.

“I just need to talk to her” Azriel said, his voice raised as he fought the two males restraining him “please y/n, just- just give me five minutes- please” the shadowsinger pleaded as the males hauled him away.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough” Lucien snapped “haven’t you hurt her enough?” he growled into his ear.

“Lucien” I said softly, the male stilled at my voice “it’s alright, I’ll talk to him”

I could practically feel Azriel’s sigh of relief, but I pushed it out of my mind because I wasn’t doing this for him.

No, this was for me.

I was taking my friends’ advice and confronting my pain, Azriel being only one of my problems right now but I felt that he was the one I could face, at least the one I was most ready to face.

I made my way through the palace to my bedroom, I wanted to be far away from prying fae ears. I could feel the tension rolling off Azriel as he followed silently behind me. Once arriving at the door, I paused a moment taking a deep breath before turning the knob and gesturing Azriel to enter first. He does so silently, tucking his wings in behind him as he passes me. I step in after him closing the door behind me with a soft -click-

I lean my forehead against the door before turning to face Azriel to find that he is already staring intensely at me, his hazel eyes boring into me as he waits for me to speak first. I can’t help but notice how they flick down to the faint bruising still visible on my neck. I clear my throat, which draws his attention back up to my eyes.

“You wanted to speak to me” I say, surprised at how strong my voice sounds “so speak”

He clears his throat “I- I do want to talk about other things with you, but first I just need to know, how you are or rather how you’ve been”

“How do you think I am Azriel?”

“I know that was probably a stupid question, but y/n I was worried about you. I have been worried sick about you. so much so that I haven’t been able to sleep, or eat, or-or think with you gone and after what happened I just-”

“That must have been hard on you” I snap

He goes silent. Turning around to face the large floor to ceiling windows that covered one wall of my quarters. I make my way closer to him, sitting on one of the couches in a lounge area that faces the fireplace.

“It must have been hard to continue living your life as you had been for months” I say, the rage slowly building as I think to all the conversations we had, conversations where he knew about the bond and told me about how he had fantasized since childhood about having a mate, how he thought he was unworthy and undeserving of one when he knew. When he knew that his mate was sitting across from him.

He turns around to face me “Y/n, I know that’s how it seems but-”

“I’m not finished yet” I interrupt “it must have been so difficult, to know about the mating bond and sit back and live your life while I was suffering. Do you even know what it was like? To watch you and Elain together, to know you shared a bed, to know you were in love. While I was practically torturing myself?”

I could see the tension building in him as his jaw clenched “Don’t put all of this on me y/n. You knew about the bond too, and I don’t recall you making any public declarations. I didn’t see you make an effort to tell me about the bond either.”

“I was going to” I practically shouted “on the winter solstice. At the party, I told Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, and the entire Inner Circle about my plan, that you needed to know to make an informed decision about what to do with your life, regardless of the outcome”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “And do you remember what you did that night Azriel? Do you?” I asked. He made his way across the room, sitting on a chair opposite of me, bringing his hands to ruffle through his hair. I could’ve sworn he cursed under his breath. His silence only encouraged me to continue.

“You got engaged. You proposed to Elain, and I had to watch, Lucien had to watch.” I wiped a tear that fell at the memory of that night. “I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell you so many fucking times Azriel but how could I? You seemed so happy and all I would do is ruin that, ruin a choice that you made. A choice that Elain made, and I had made my peace with it. That you chose her, and the bond wouldn’t change anything because it didn’t. You knew the whole time. The whole fucking time and you clearly didn’t want it”

“I fucked up y/n I know that now, but you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you”

“You know a few months ago I might have believed that. I used to think that you would never hurt me Azriel, from the moment the bond snapped into place for me I had this idea in my head about who you were and- and I was wrong because I trusted you, I got to know you and I started to have feelings for you”

I couldn’t help the tears that lined my eyes as it all came pouring out of me. “But you- you betrayed me, and you have turned into someone I don’t recognize”

“I know that I fucked up y/n, I know that but if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. please just- just give me a chance”

“Fine, here’s your chance. Why did you choose that moment to tell me about the bond? In that place after I was attacked”

“Y/n…” he began “Do we really have to talk about that”

“Don’t treat me like I am this fragile, broken female. I can handle it. I have been handling it. So either answer my question, or get out”

“Fine…I- I didn’t choose that moment, it just came out. I was so panicked and worried about you. that night…I felt you get hurt and I don’t know, when I saw you and when I smelt your blood, I was just so relieved you were alive. I didn’t have a filter on my emotions, and they got the best of me”

I nodded “Did you ever think about telling me, that you knew that the bond was there?” I said softly

“y/n” he says like a warning

“Don’t y/n me Azriel. Did you consider it or not, it’s a simple question”

“Yes” he says desperately “of course I did, but I decided against it”

“Why?” I asked

“Why?” he repeated, his voice sounding confused.

“Yes Azriel, I had a good reason not to tell you. What reason did you have not to tell me?”

“I thought- I don’t know I convinced myself that you were better off. I thought that it was too dangerous for you to be bonded to me for life and that I was protecting you”

“That’s bullshit” I quip

“That’s the truth” he shouts back at me

“It’s an excuse, it was too much for me, but Elain could handle being married to you. Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

“FINE” he yells pinching the bridge of his nose as he finally lets his guard down.

“I was in love with Elain, and I wanted to be with her. I didn’t want to hurt anyone okay…I really didn’t and I hoped deep down that you didn’t know. I convinced myself that you had no idea and that all the signs that you did were in my head. I didn’t want to have feelings for you, I didn’t want to acknowledge it.” He took a deep breath “but then you were attacked, and I felt like a complete asshole because maybe if I hadn’t pushed you away then you wouldn’t have almost died. If I was with you, maybe that male wouldn’t have dared touch you and…the more I thought about it the more I realized I was in the wrong. Everyone fucking knew already, and here I was playing fucking house with Elain.”

I wiped away the tears that had involuntarily fallen during his confession.

“And in the end Elain is the one that ended things, because I was still too much of a coward to admit that I was developing feelings for you. and before you say it’s out of pity or a feeling of duty, I was developing feelings for you long before that night.”

“Then tell me something Az” I say quietly

“Anything” he says, his eyes meeting mine. I can see the desperation within them.

“If she hadn’t ended the engagement. Would you have married her?”

His face fell, his body going rigid at my ask. That seemed like answer enough to me. I nodded in acceptance and stood going to leave the room. He reacted quickly, running in front of me and dropping to his knees, tears freely falling down his face.

“Please don’t go y/n” he begged “Not like this please just- fuck I know how it seems but I have been honest, doesn’t that count for something? I know- I know I hurt you and I hurt Elain but If you just give me a chance, I can fix this, I can fix us.”

“I can’t Az” I said, my own tears falling in tandem with his “maybe someday I can forgive you and we can move past this, but not right now” I made my way to the door, reaching for the knob to leave when his voice halted me.

“I’m not giving up y/n” he said “I promise you; I don’t care how long it takes. Even if it takes an eternity, I am not giving up on this.”

I didn’t respond. I simply opened the door and walked back to the library, leaving him kneeling on the floor.

Next Chapter-> (Coming Soon)

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{Taglist is Temporarily Closed I'm going to be updating it and changing some things around here soon}

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psychotic4ghost · 2 years ago

Text

:Siren & The 141:

A/n: This chapter is some fluffy moments between the 141. Basically flash backs of Mykie's time with the 141 before the big accident. WC: 2.8K Masterlist prev pt next pt

🚨 Warnings 🚨 Fluff! Panic Attack, Anxiety, mentions of PTSD, tears

Chapter 8 - The Months Go On

:Mykie joined the 141 in mid February:

March-

It was a quiet day in the common room. Everyone was lounging around after a particularly grueling day of training and were just trying to relax.

“I’m heading out. Anyone want something from the café?” Gaz asked as she pulled on his light coat.

“Black tea. Thanks.” Ghost mumbled.

“Oh, an americano?” Soap requested.

“Black coffee.” Price chimed in.

A little bit of silence hung in the room for a moment. “Mykie? Do you want anything?” Gaz asked with a cocked eyebrow. He expected her to pipe in right away.

“Oh, are you sure? Um, I don’t really have cash on me right now.” She stumbled.

“Cash- what? No. I’m offering to buy you something.” Gaz let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh…Um, a latte? Iced?”

“You got it.” Gaz threw a warm smile Mykie’s way. They all wanted her to feel included in any way they could. Gaz promptly left the base as he tapped his phone, writing everyone’s orders into his notes.

“That’s a pretty normal thing, by the way.” Soap mentioned to Mykie. Soap was spread out on one of the armchairs in the common room, Mykie was in the one next to him.

“Oh.” Mykie mumbled before returning to her phone. She wasn’t used to people doing kind things for her of their own volition.

“I’m back! Black tea for Simon, Black coffee for the Capt., americano for Soap and an iced latte for Ms. Mykie.” Gaz said as he placed the drink tray on the coffee table. He handed them out one by one.

“Thanks Gaz. This actually means so much to me.” Mykie thanked him.

“It’s just a cup of coffee, Mykie. It’s no big deal really. But I’m glad it brightened your day.”

April-

“Happy Birthday!” Soap shouted as he slung his thick arm over Mykie’s shoulders, nearly knocking her over.

“How did you even know it was my birthday?!” Mykie shouted, shock coursed through her. No one should have known her birthday, no one except…Price.

“Price! You told Soap my birthday?” Mykie busted out as she kicked in his office door.

Price shrugged his shoulders. “You have no proof.”

“You’re the only one who knows! I kept that off my record!” Mykie was still in shock from being told ‘happy birthday’.

“You’re a team no-”

“Don’t give me that ‘we’re a team now, gotta spread love and joy’ spiel Price. What’s your motive?” Mykie pointed a finger in the man’s face. The only thing keeping her from shoving it in his nose was the desk between them.

“I have no motive, Mykie. I just want you to know you’re cared about here. Now go back to the common room please. I’ll be over there shortly.”

Mykie leaned back, her eyes were staring daggers into the poor Captain as she left the room.

Mykie pushed open the common room doors only to be greeted with a banner and balloons that read ‘Happy Birthday Mykie’ in call caps. Mykie’s lips parted in awe of the bright red decor, her favorite color. Her eyes glanced around the room. Gaz, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy and even Ghost all sat around one of the tables. A medium sized cake decorated with red and gray frosting sat in the center of the table.

“Happy birthday!” They all shouted as she burst through the doors. Ghost only mumbled the words of course as the rest of the team went wild.

Some of Mykie’s other favorites sat around the table as well, a bottle of DeKuyper Sour Apple Pucker Liqueur, sour candies, sushi platters, chocolate peanut butter ice cream and even a tub of strawberry sorbet as if one ice cream wasn’t enough.

Small tears began to form in Mykie’s eyes as she cautiously moved towards the table. “Y-you guys did this all for me?”

“Of course! I had been keeping track of some of your faves throughout the last few months, Price helped me get all the stuff. I wasn’t sure your favorite alcohol since we really only have whiskey here so Simon helped me pick that out. Didn’t expect a sour one though.” Soap rambled on and on about the set up.

Mykie’s eyes trailed to a small pile of presents all wrapped in various red wrapping papers. “Are those…gifts…?”

“Well duh, it’s your birthday, chica!” Alejandro added.

“No one has ever done this for me before.” More tears brimmed Mykie’s eyes.

“Seriously? What did you do before?” Gaz asked as Mykie sat down next to Soap.

“My sister would steal me a muffin from the bakery. We used the same candle for years and we would hide in one of the tallest trees we could find. We’d do it for each other every year.” A single tear left Mykie’s eyes as she recalled the memory. “Could I…could I make one request?” Mykie asked, rather nervous.

“Of course, it’s your day.” Price ushered, he knew what she was going to ask, he was the only one other than Simon who really knew about her but, “Could we, if it’s okay, celebrate my sister too? It’s her birthday today too. She’d be turning 25 this year.”

Everyone agreed and loved the idea. Mykie shared her name with the boys and they all started to sing for Mykie and Jade. Soap did the thickest Scottish accent he could muster, Alejandro and Rudy sang in Spanish and even Ghost hummed along. Gaz and Price were locked arms and swaying together as they sang. “Happy birthday dear Mykie and Jade! Happy birthday to you!” They all sang in unison.

Everyone dug into the food and eventually it was time for cake. Simon did the cutting since he didn’t trust Soap to not ruin the cake. He was also the most sober of them all. As he slid the thick knife into the cake and cut out a sliver, it was revealed that it was a red velvet cake, another favorite of hers.

It was present time. Soap insisted she open his first. It was a smaller box, inside was a brand new tactical knife, it was fitted with cherry oak and engraved to say ‘Siren & The 141’. Mykie flung her arms around Soap, it was absolutely beautiful and threatened Mykie with even more tears.

Next was Gaz who got her a new pair of combat boots, a pair she had been eyeing for awhile. Price got her three pairs of tactile pants, all in varying shades of dark gray and black. Alejandro and Rudy combine theirs and got her a sleek new cherry oak handled Colt 1911 handgun. And Ghost handed her a card, he told her to read it privately. The note said “Meet me in the back of the training field at 0000.”

“Really, a card?” Soap cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s $500 for her favorite sushi place, bug off.” Simon growled towards Soap who threw up defensive hands. Mykie giggled at their banter.

The night was coming to an end. As the boys insisted on cleaning up, Mykie slipped away to her room. There, she had a small box with a single blueberry muffin inside. She pulled a very short candle, one that had been lit many times, out of her nightstand drawer. She gently dug the candle into the top of the muffin, lit it and sang softly, a small happy birthday song for her sister before blowing it out. Tears flowed down her cheeks. So many emotions mixed inside Mykie. She was incredibly happy for her team and what they did for her, she was sad for her sister but she was also scared that she was going to wake up and it all would have been a dream. A hopeful dream like she had had before when her sister died and she spent her birthday alone, curled up in a ball on her bed in her empty apartment.

A soft knock sounded at her door. She quickly wiped her tears away and checked her watch, it was 0005. It was probably Simon.

“Sorry, I lost track of time.” She admitted as she swung open the door. She was met with Simon’s honey brown eyes boring into her jade green ones.

“It’s fine. You were crying, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Birthdays are just a little tough for me.” She admitted the truth.

“Oh, um. Can we go for a walk?” He asked cautiously.

Mykie nodded her head softly as she grabbed her coat from the back of the door. They headed into the tree line along the base. The fence was still a good few meters away from where they were but they were also far enough away from the base for some privacy.

“I really did have a gift card to your favorite sushi restaurant in London. It's not $500 but it is €200.” Simon handed her a small card from inside his pocket.

“Thank you Simon…I really appreciate this.” Mykie said as composed as she could be. “Wait, this is for Subarashī sushi!” Mykie nearly started jumping up and down as she read the words on the gift card.

Simon let out an enthused laugh. “Yeah, I remember you going on about it while drunk one night.”

Mykie pocketed the gift card as the two walked. It was silent for a while, just how they liked it. Ever since Mykie had opened up to Simon, they started taking walks together in silence as they just enjoyed each other's company. Silence was one thing they had agreed they both enjoyed. Her night ended with them talking a little about how neither of them really got to have birthdays much and how things like that made them uncomfortable but how something was different about this one. It felt right. It felt; okay. Everything was okay for once.

May-

Nothing of importance

June-

Their first proper mission was a go. Spicy started.

July-

Mykie had her first breakdown after the mission, during training.

“Soap, take point.” Ghost ordered as he picked Mykie up. She had dropped to her body low to the ground, she was hugging around her knees as her eyes locked on the dirt, a terrified look spread across her features.

“Mykie, what’s wrong?” Ghost asked as she he set her down on the bench of an empty locker room. She didn’t answer. “Mykie, tell me what’s wrong?” He pressed. Still no response.

Ghost sat next to her on the bench, he pulled her close to him and held her as she stared into space, fear still all over her face. After about 15 minutes, her breathing started to slow down, her eyes softened and her limbs relaxed. Her head fell over onto his shoulder as she let out a big exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Soap is carrying on the training.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry you had to sit through that.” Mykie admitted. She kept her gaze away from him.

“I don’t mind. I’m no therapist, but I understand PTSD.”

“This is the second time you’ve seen me like this. I’m really sorry.”

“Mykie, look. I don’t mind. Here, let’s make a deal, yeah? From now on, whenever you are going through it, a panic attack, mild anxiety you don’t wanna deal with alone or even a full blown PTSD fit, call me.” Simon took her phone from the velcroed pocket on her combat pants. He pulled up his contact and shoved her phone back at her, “I know you can make my contact like a speed dial thing on your main page. I don’t know how to do it so you gotta. Do it. That’s an order.”

Mykie took her phone back, she glanced up at him to see if he was being serious. He was, as usual, so she made his contact an icon on her home screen. “You do the same then.” Mykie mumbled as she reached for his phone.

Simon handed his phone to her. She tapped on the screen a few times until her contact was on his phone screen as well.

The two of them went over the best ways to support each other or deescalate a situation if they were to ever use this new safety line. After a little bit more talking, they rejoined the team, training was almost over and as the team usually does, they acted as if nothing happened to help Mykie ease back into the group. Lunch was after their showers.

August-

Mykie bolted upright. Sweat dripped down her temple and neck. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly. Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes darted around the room. She had been sleeping in this room for almost a year now but the walls felt coldly unfamiliar in her panic. She fought with her muscles to allow her to move. She reached for her phone, still in a panic.

They had a system. One either of them could use. She tapped on the shortcut to Simon’s contact and tapped the call button. Her and Simon had grown very close after she had a panic attack in front of him back when he was helping her with some extra training a few months after she joined the 141. She didn’t trust anyone with her emotions the way she trusted Simon. And, to both their surprise, he felt the same towards her. Though their pasts were different, they felt they could relate to each other in a way the rest of the 141 wouldn’t fully be able to comprehend.

The phone rang. She could barely hear it as her mind raced. She was fighting back memories as it rang. It only took a few rings until Simon’s gruff voice sounded softly through the phone.

“Mykie?” No response. He knew what that meant. She was having a panic attack. One she couldn’t regulate on her own like usual. He pushed the covers off his form, slipped on his hoodie and a black surgical mask and headed for her room.

He didn’t bother knocking. He knew he wouldn’t get a response. He pushed open the door and shut it quickly behind him. Simon wasted no time as he rushed to her bed. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Her eyes were focused on one spot of the room, her lap. Tears gushed from her eyes as he sat next to her. They had discussed how to handle each other's mental breaks, what to do, what not to do. Simon wrapped his large form around her small body. He buried her face into his shoulder and began rocking.

As soon as her joints relaxed, he picked her up and sat her in his lap while continuing to rock. “Shhh.” He would hush every so often. “I’m here Mykie…it’s Simon.” He would say his name as much as he could. Having an unfamiliar man cradling her could make the trigger worse as she would start imagining her father.

“He isn’t here. He can’t hurt you. It’s me, Simon.” He would coo until her breathing slowed and the tears stopped flowing as harshly. Slowly, she would gain control of her eyes and muscles.

“S-Si…?” now conscious, she would burst into tears as she balled his hoodie in her small fist.

“I’m here, Mykie. I’m here.” Simon cradled her tightly to his chest.

“He was…He killed…” Mykie choked on her words.

“No, don’t even tell me. I don’t need to know.” Simon cut her off. “Reliving it again and again won’t help anyone.”

Mykie pawed at his mask, as she shut her eyes so as to not see him. Simon pulled the mask down to his chin. “I’m not him. Just plain ‘ol Simon.” He gave her a weak smile. He didn’t like having his mask down, especially during emotional moments, even with her eyes closed, it made him feel more vulnerable than he liked but he would do anything for her in this moment.

“Please…” She mumbled out as she tugged at his neck. He obliged her request. They weren’t exactly in a relationship but they definitely had feelings for each other, whether they wanted to admit it or not was another task. Simon slowly and cautiously lowered his face to meet hers. She quickly closed the gap, attaching her lips to his. She needed more proof he was real. That she was safe with him.

He kissed her back, deeply. Neither of them fought for dominance and they both just enjoyed the feelings of each other. He continued to hold her for an hour more before finally retiring to his own room. He insisted on staying but she wasn’t having it. She knew it was more comfortable for him to be in his own room, where he felt truly safe. He didn’t want to push. As he entered his room, he slowly closed the door and leaned his back against it. He let out a long sigh before a small smile crept onto his lips. She felt safe with him and only him.

#call of duty #cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley #mw2 simon riley #oc

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