#“You are a part of who I am” “you are the only thing worth fighting for” that just BREAK ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 6 months

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IT'S A NEED - CHOSO KAMO

✴︎ summary: after you take an attack meant for him, choso can't seem to understand why -- so you show him just how important he is to you. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, angst then smut, choso is confused about human emotions, he doesn't know if he deserves love, making out, groping, sex (p in v), handjob (f! + m! receiving), semi-public sex (sort of), pet names (love, pretty, lovely) ✴︎ wc: 1,965

“Why did you take that hit for me?” his words come out in a hiss, a rush of breath that he forces out between gritted teeth, as if he was both afraid to ask and afraid not to, “it was foolish, it was unnecessary—”

You blow out a sigh between your pursed lips, as you rest against a damp sheet against cold concrete of a corner of Shibuya that currently wasn’t under attack — the not too distant groans of other injured not too far, but far enough for your privacy, “You know why I did it, so why are you asking that, when you mean to ask something else?”

And you knew him — knew him a little too well for someone who only had known him a few weeks now? Is that how long it had been since he had joined up with sorcerers? Switched sides to protect his little brother — and somehow, he ended up here — sitting next to you instead of him. Yuji could handle himself — he had faith in his brother — and he knew you could too. A skilled sorcerer — he saw your skill firsthand from a distance during the fights in shibuya, and then up close when you nearly caved his head in when you found out how he almost killed Yuji.

Is that when he first started to like you?

He didn’t know.

Could he even have such emotions? He had never known any sort of love, except for that of his brothers. But that was natural? To care for his family, to watch after them, to protect them, to avenge them. And anything that helped him achieve that goal, was worth it was it not? Even if it came at the cost of a different life, right? His eyes slid to you again, so why did it huqrt so much when he saw you crumpled on the ground, blood pooling on the cement around your abdomen, the same blood he didn’t think twice about when it spilled from other humans or sorcerers alike. Now, it was different.

He was different — maybe you were, to him.

“What question am I asking then?” he finally asks, as you only sigh again, eyes fluttering open to look at him with that same gaze that felt as if you were looking right through him.

“You’re asking me why I thought you were worthy of being saved in the first place?” and his mouth parts — words ringing in his ear.

It was true — he was a cursed womb — a mixture of curse and human blood that never was supposed to exist in the first place, a thing that has no other purpose in this world, aside from his brothers. And especially after the things he’s done, the people he’s killed, the harm he’s caused, and even the body he walks in now isn’t his own, but a person killed for his gain — how was he worthy of saving? How was he worthy of the risk of your life?

“And what’s your answer?” he asks, his voice growing raw, as he can’t bear to look at you, his gaze fixed on his lap, and he doesn’t see you push yourself up, sitting, as you stare at him, lips curling in a small smile, as you leaned over, fingers brushing against his cheek, that finally pull his gaze back to you.

“Because you’re Choso, because you deserve to be saved, you deserve the same kindness you’ve given to us,” your fingers are so gentle against him, had he ever been touched so gently before? His eyes almost feel the urge to shut, and just indulge in the feeling of your skin against his, “you didn’t ask to be here, you were manipulated, you were controlled, and you were forced to be a pawn,”

“But that doesn’t change—”

“It doesn’t change the hurt you caused, no, but that’s not who you are now,” you force him to meet your gaze, lips curled in a smile, “and who are now is definitely worth saving,”

“But why?” he still doesn’t understand, he still doesn’t see his worth, and you give your third sigh, before your other hand finds his shoulder, pulling him closer, a breath away.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Choso?” your words warm his lips, and send warmth to the tips of his fingers, warmth he hadn’t known since he had been forced to come back. And all he can feel is your hands against him, all he can see are your eyes gazing at him the way he thought anyone would, and all he can think about is when your lips are finally going to touch his, “because I think I can only show you now,” and your thumb finds his lips, dragging down the bottom one, “would you want that?”

And his eyes flutter, a sharp intake of breath when your finger touches his lips, “I don’t think I’d like anything more,” he whispers, his eyes falling to your lips, as you lean forward.

Your lips brush his, featherlight, as if you worry he’d recoil, he’d run, he’d leave, but he does none of those things. Your lips part from his and he’s staring, as you do, before his lips seek yours again. And this time, he’s sure.

His lips surge against yours, as you melt into his touch, as gentle as can be — those same hands used to slaughter, now grazing your sides as if you’d break apart in his hands. And he didn’t care if the world was falling apart — and it was all around you both — if he could have this moment with you, maybe it’d be worth it.

“What is this hold you have over me?” He murmurs, and you’re pulling him closer to your tattered blanket against the concrete, fingers running through his hair making him shiver, “you touch me and I can’t think straight, I can’t—“

“Then don’t,” you murmur, your lips pressing butterfly kisses to his jaw, “give in, let me love you,”

And he does, relinquishing his thoughts and worries in exchange for your touch, and his hands find your waist, as you move slowly, climbing into his lap, making him grunt, before concern flickers across his features.

“Your injuries—“ he starts, but your lips brush against his ear, lips curved against the soft flesh.

“Are not as serious as how much I want you right now,” your words send a shiver down his spine, as your lips find his again, and you swallow his groan with pleasure. Your tongue parts his lips, as you taste him, fingers carding through his jet-black locks, fingers pulling at the ties in his hair, pulling them around your wrists, “I’ll keep them safe,” you tease, you tug teasingly at his hair making him gasp.

You’re pulling moans and whines from his lips, as you part from him for a moment, breaths coming as pants, as you press your forehead to his, taking in his now kiss ruined lips and violet irises glazed with lust, “so pretty,” you coo, “too pretty, Choso, how am I supposed to resist?”

And your fingers find their way to his belt, pausing, “is this okay?” Your hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing the length, and he’s nodding wordlessly, as his fingers find yours, undoing his belt and letting his robe fall open.

Your breath catches as you see him, your fingers dragging over his bare chest and abs, your eyes finding your way to his cock — it was so pretty, long and thick with a pretty pearl of precum. And your gaze is hot, hypnotized, “all this f’me?” You murmur, making him swallow, and then gasp as your fingers trace the vein running up the side. Your lips curl, “oh we’re just getting started, baby,”

Your fingers curl around his cock, your thumb rubbing against his slit, making him hiss, “I—“ his hips stutter against you, bumping against your damp shorts, making you groan. And he was so good in your hand, how good would he feel inside?

No, not yet, you wanted to make him feel good first.

“It’s okay, just breath,” your fingers tease his head, smiling as his head lolls back, and your hand begins to stroke him, spreading the precum along his length, “I got you, let me make you feel good,”

And your hand squeezes at the base, and he’s groaning your name, like a curse, as your other hand teases his balls, before you’re slipping off his lap, pressing his tip against your lips, painting them with his precum.

“You taste so good, Choso,” you lick your lips clean of him, tasting his salty precum.

“Please, love,” he’s murmuring, a whine in his throat, his fingers pulling at your clothes, “I want you—I want you to feel good too,”

And you smile, guiding his hands to your shorts, “Are you sure?” You murmur, kissing his neck, “we don’t-“

He’s pulling your shorts off, as he’s lowering you onto the sheet gently, tugging them off, his calloused palms parting your soft thighs. And his gaze darkens, half lidded with lust, “You’re lovely,” his fingers brush against your soaked folds, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp, “you like that?” He hums.

And he’s leaning down, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, “Choso, please—“ and his breath warms your cunt, pressing a kiss to your dripping pussy, drawing a gasp from your lips, “I need you—“

“What do you need, pretty?” His velvet words are thick and slow like molasses, settling warm heat over your skin, as his hands draw up your thighs around his waist, “do you want my hands? My lips?”

And your hips roll against him, his tip bumping against your cunt, “what do you think?” And he’s hissing, before he’s grasping as his dick, teasing you with his head, “fuuuck, Choso,”

“Not so loud,” he murmurs, “someone could hear us, see you all spread out for me, and this view is just for me, lovely,” and his cock is parting your folds, both moaning in synchrony, your walls fluttering around him, “so tight, pretty, so fucking wet,”

You think he’s even prettier, brow furrowed and forehead slick with sweat, kiss bitten lips parted in a pant, and his violet eyes fluttering. And he’s bottoming out in you, his hips pressed against you, “so good, so perfect,” he’s murmuring, and he’s pulling out only to thrust back in. His strokes are languid at first, before he’s fucking you in earnest, hips snapping against yours, “.

“Choso, fuck, please, I’m close—“ your back is arching against him, and his lips find yours again in a searing kiss, as his fingers reach down between the two of you, and press against your clit, just as his hips piston into you just right with deep long strokes, until your walls are clamping down. He doesn’t last much longer, his hips stuttering against you, until he’s moaning, his hot load painting your walls white, as he fucks his cum into you.

And he’s panting above you, as you pull him into a sloppy kiss, pulling him beside you, as he slips out of you, making you whine at the emptiness.

“Don’t think that was part of Shoko’s instructions for recovery,” you murmur against his lips, as you grin, “but it was definitely needed,”

His lips curl, as he’s pressing kisses along your jaw, “So you need me, huh?” and the question fills him with warmth, just as you have, a sort of purpose he had never had, aside from his family — a want for him that he had never thought he’d be lucky enough to have.

And you only smile, pulling him into another kiss, “Why else do you think I took that hit for you?”

✴︎ a/n: new episode did something to me. i have a longer fic planned for choso, but this will have to do for today :). yes i'm posting this in the middle of the night, sue me.

✴︎ tag list: @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @kemitoi, @thecooldino, @moonnime, @bontensbabygirl, @wretchedinfinity, @lemonpoppy-seed, @ichikanu, @snowscaping, @kamikokii, @fwankieero, @ssaraexposs, @astridyoo15, @cascading-escapist, @sniffsnoffsniff, @raddiplomatshepherdhero, @nverwashere, @n00v4, @unohanaswetdream, @staygoldsquatchling02, @anime9ja,

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mirnightghost · 9 months

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Tw: blood

...it was supposed to be a comic, but a lot went wrong, so..keep this little description:

Sticky, warm blood spread across his chest, trying to hide the terrible wounds left by the cold metal. The eyelids grew heavy, and the boundless darkness crept up to forever take the knight into his silent realm of death. "Ambrosius...I'm...sorry."

Hands gently but tightly wrapped around his body. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay"

Oh, that voice. So dear to him voice now repeated these words with pain like a mantra, as if it could change something. But breathing became harder and harder every moment. “Oh no no no no don’t leave me. Bal, please don't leave me alone!"

Now it was like a prayer. A prayer that heavens will never hear. But the knight in dark armor heed this prayer. And hundreds of thoughts and words that he would like to say ran through his mind. And then everything went quiet. And he plunged into darkness.

I have to say that I am not a writer, so the structure of the text and the words may seem strange. Sorry~

Anyway, I would like to share with you the context of what is going on here and why!

I thought that, as in all existing societies, there will always be those who are against changes. It so happened historically that not all people are ready for changes, because changes are always scary. And, of course, no matter how heartbreaking the scene with Nimona is, you can never get the respect of the entire kingdom. Especially the elite, which can lose control. Since Ambrosius remained the only "main" person of the kingdom, he did the main work of changing people's minds. And that part of the elite that was against it, saw it as a conspiracy. Allegedly, Ambrosius did this not for the benefit of society, but for the benefit of his partner. Therefore, the ranks of the conspirators grew and became stronger. And when they gathered enough strength, the uprisings/resistance to new arrangements and power began.

And it is in one of the clashes with these conspirators that Ballister is mortally wounded...or not?

Yes, yes, you understood correctly, I have two endings. Of course.

Anyway, I find this concept more interesting, as it brings me a little closer to political things, making things darker and therefore more interesting. After all, what is happiness worth if you don’t have to fight for it?

▪︎

Oh...I don't think I want to write about how difficult it was to draw all this...just say i'm glad I finished it.

Thank you for your attention

See ya~

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sickuma · 10 months

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SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back.

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

��My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?”

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance.

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent,

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours.

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him.

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while.

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe.

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body,

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you.

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel.

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone."

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him.

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail.

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug.

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you.

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

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decolonize-the-left · 1 year

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Ive seen an influx in posts asking the LGBT community to hold itself accountable for ace/aro bigotry and they're fucking right.

How are we supposed to hold homophobes and transphobes accountable and demand they do better when we won't even do that for each other?

We're a community right? A family who's supposed to look out for each other? What happened to everyone being valid? Is a sibling saying "you hurt me, please correct it somehow" not valid?

For my part I'll admit I was part of this.

I was on the side of the asexual exclus back in the late 00's/early 10's. I was deep in the belief that oppression had to be systematic in order to count and at the time I didn't see any systematic oppression faced by aces. I even identified as ace and I didn't consider myself oppressed for being asexual. I saw the hostility and vitriol directed at aces everyday...but I didn't see it as wrong. I didn't see it as bigotry. I saw it as righteous anger.

I know how awful things were because I was one of the people making them that way. There is Real trauma that was experienced. There's no fucking way that a normal person could be invalidated that much and take the vitriolic bigotry aces/aros did everyday and have it not leave a lasting impact.

I fucked up. That was wrong and awful of me and I'm genuinely so fucking sorry.

I see the broken trust and promises between us now in 2023 and I see how shattered the community is and it's partly my fault. That gap is there because of me and people like me.

We should have loved and supported and welcomed you. We should have saw the way you were being treated and said something. You deserved to be protected and loved and supported from people who treated you that way.

And you weren't. We didn't. And it was normalized.

We absolutely fucking failed you as a community and as human beings. I need to own that. And I need to be one of the first people to trying to repair that.

And I know an apology is barely even a first step and I know it's just a drop in a giant bucket but I am sorry. For everything it's worth to you, I'm sorry.

Because of me and people like me you experienced the kind of identity trauma that typically only homophobes are capable of. And you experienced it at the hands of the community that's supposed to be fighting specifically that sort of ignorance against a-typical sexualities.

We fucked up

And it'd just be hypocritical salt in the wound if 10+ years later we ignored your asks for accountability and didn't do anything about it when it's resurfacing.

So yeah.

I was a bigot. I hurt people. I hurt my own community. I thought I was right and I wasn't. I was wrong. And so is everyone who insists on continuing that today.

There is no excuse or justification for it. I thought there was too but I was wrong and I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making up for it.

Whatever justification you find for treating people with a-typical sexualities and genders is shit. It has no leg to stand on and it sure as hell isn't being done for the sake of the community.

The LGBT community was founded not by people with checklists on how to be a Good Gay or Acceptable trans woman but by people being treated like shit for who they were choosing to love or not love. It was founded by people who's gender didn't fit in cishet boxes. It was founded by people who just wanted to be free to exist as themselves.

You can't treat asexuals or aros or bisexuals or pansexuals like shit and say that it's in the name of the LGBT community.

It's not.

It spits in the face of everything our community is supposed to be and it's time someone besides aces and aros said it.

None of us should be okay with how they're treated and all of us should be part of stopping it

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gr1mstar · 3 months

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Timeless lover - part II

notes: this is a second part of an one shot i did a few days ago. i don’t think it will be a part III because my account is dying? i think i was reported once and from then my post don’t get much the attention anymore. how can i fix this?

contains: sukuna ryomen x f!reader, reincarnation, past lovers, curse words (not a lot of them), sfw, human sukuna (from that time when he was actually human), flashbacks, lovers to strangers, mentions of death, sick reader (in the past), sorcerer reader (present time), sukuna has sentiments?, sukuna is soft for reader, past sukuna looks kinda like itadori yuji, not the same tho, but very similar, mention of pills, slightly an au because sukuna will never be this nice, reader is older than yuji but sukuna is older? that makes sense?

check out the first part first if you didn’t already - here

“sukuna”

“sukuna. that’s my name, keep that in mind, doll” the man in front of you spoke, taking your chin in his big hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

‘what a shade of red…’ you thought, analyzing the irises that looked at you with almost hatred. ‘i despise red.’ you continued, continuing to look in his direction, seeing that he was not backing up.

“not afraid, i see. what a particular sight,” he muttered, finally leaving your chin alone. after some time, he took a few steps back, running his hand through his hair. “what are you exactly?”

“what do you mean?” you found yourself asking, now looking at the tree that stood tall beside you two.

“are you not afraid to die? people usually are scared of me, fearing that i would fight them and win, resulting in their death.” the man continued, taking a few steps just to be beside you.

thinking back, when you were younger you were afraid of death. it was a terrifying thought, but after all the bullshit you went through, you found yourself not having the exact same mentality.

your time was limited, death being the only thing you were certain it was coming for you. what did you have? nothing. so that’s why you set out to live your life to the fullest, or well… how much is left of it.

you were strong. stronger than others.

“no. only the weak are afraid.”

the familiar man that stood in front of you, one intimidating, now was a big puppy, his eyes showed emotions, emotions that a curse should never have. so what was different?

“my love, no time no see…” he stared, taking a few steps in your direction, his arms parting, beckoning you to come closer to him for a hug.

‘is he crazy? what happened to yuji?’ but you were never able to answer your question, because he interrupted your thoughts.

“didn't you miss me? i've been waiting for you for hundreds of years… love-”

“don’t. i am not such a thing.” now was your time to interrupt him, taking a step back. looking at your surroundings, you found megumi looking at you with shock, a light line of blood staining his face. “megumi,” you continued, addressing the back-haired boy, “run.”

“i think i will remember you always,” you confessed, looking at the man who stood behind you, a hand on your waist and the other in your hair.

looking at the sky, you could see the millions of stars smiling happily back at you. the night was peaceful, but you knew well that the following morning would not be.

“and you will never forget about the scolding you will receive tomorrow” he continued, placing a sweet kiss in your hair.

“maybe. but it was worth it. you deserve all my time”

“and you deserve all the world, my love.” was his response, closing his eyes and praying that you would be fine.

the stars were bright and you could not stop yourself from asking: ‘when i become a star too, i will shine this beautifully?’

“so. where is it?” the white-haired man asked, hands in his pocket and looking between me, megumi, and now-yuji-really-yuji.

there was a moment of silence, the sensei looking funnily at the three sorcerers. you found the silence ironic, so you tried to break it using a fake cough, but yuji beat you to it, speaking.

“i- i kinda ate that thing.”

another pause. now you were eyeing megumi, who looked somewhat constipated. it was true really, it was a very shitty moment-

“really?”

“yes, really. i am fine, kuna. you don’t need to worry, go to your mission, beat some ass, and came back to me for my cuddles, okay?” you tried to make a compromise, but the red-eye man that stood in front of you didn’t want to listen.

“i’m not going. the maid told me that you were feeling lightheaded all morning, i want to be with you-”

“but people would die if you’re not going, sukuna. i don’t want-”

“let them die fucking hell. who is more important?” he interrupted you, his angry face making you roll your eyes. he was a stubborn bitch when he wanted.

after a moment of silence, he started approaching you, taking your neck gently with his hand and making you look at him. “answer me. who is more important?”

you wanted to scream in his face that ‘the rest of the world is more important than me. who i am? a sick woman simping over a handsome man”, but you could not do that. it was going to make him more angry than he was already.

“me. i’m the important one.”

“good girl”

“so… what’s your relationship with sukuna? the king of curses, really?” the principal asked, looking from behind his glasses at you, with an eyebrow raised.

“i really don’t know. he looked at me… somewhat differently than the rest. i think he knew me from somewhere, but i don’t know.” was your response, signing and putting your head against the couch cushion.

“in any case, we must be careful. it's sukuna after all, we have to expect anything.” gojo responded, playing with his blindfold.

it was strange to see gojo wearing a blindfold reader than the glasses you were used to. the first time you saw him, you asked about it, his response making you feel bad for him.

at the same time, you could not resist asking him: “kinky much?”

“gojo is right. let’s be careful.” yoga spoke, and then continued. “now, what about yuji?”

“what about him? he would not be a part of the jujutsu high?” you found satoru asking, his now naked eye looking at yaga.

he looked so… intimidating without something covering his eyes.

“the elders want him killed.” the principal continued.

“no”

“what do you mean no?”

“i said no, kuna. meeting my parents would be a bad thing,” you said, looking at your pale hand. sukuna was playing with your fingers.

“but why?” he complained, looking like a kid who just got his candy stolen. “it could be a great opportunity to show them you are in good hands-”

“no, sukuna.” you interrupted him, taking a break from his attitude. “they would freak out and probably never allow me to meet you ever again.”

“i could kill them-” he started speaking, but you interrupted him harshly.

“absolutely not.”

“how are you feeling?”

“the same really. i mean it was pretty gross at the beginning but it went away.” yuji spoke happily, making his way to sit beside you on a bench.

the conversation you had a few minutes ago was still fresh, but you were glad that gojo was able to convince the higher-ups to not execute yuji.

“i’m glad you are okay, yuji. i heard you can control him too?”

“yes and no. i feel his presence in my mind, i can feel him too.”

“so you… you have any idea how he knows me?” you asked, a little bit of hope lingering in the air.

“not really. he always bothers me about you, but at the same time he doesn’t want to talk with you.”

“why you don’t wanna talk with me? kuna!”

you were met with silence. you could feel that he was annoyed, but somewhat you liked how he looked all… angry. he was sexy. the red eyes that stared at you a few minutes ago were now filled with jealousy, and the little crease on his forehead was just too cute to ignore.

“are you jealous?” you continued your question, tilting your head a little bit to the right to look at him better.

‘i would kill for this man’ you found yourself thinking, admiring his attractive features.

“no. i just don’t like the way he looks at you.” and then he continued, taking your head in his big hands, leaving a little kiss on the tip of the nose. “you are mine.”

“yours always.”

“he what?” you shouted, tightly clutching the phone to your ear as if it was ready to fly out of the blue.

“he ripped his heart out.” magumi answered again, then continued “you should come here, maybe say goodbye? i don’t really know.”

and so you did, and in a few minutes, you were at the jujutsu high, ready to see a poor boy who fell pray in the hands of a curse.

“you were with him?”

“yes.” the black-haired boy answered, immediately sighing. “i saw everything.”

“where was gojo?” you asked again, getting on your feet and ready to kick the white hair man’s ass.

“i don’t fucking know.”

seeing a dead person on the table was not something you were planning to see on your holiday in tokyo. yuji, now fully naked, was lying cold on the operating table. gojo just left the room to bring shoko to examine the boy, so you were all alone with a dead corpse and possibly a curse inside.

“sukuna…”

you were not sure what got into you, but somehow you found yourself talking with yuji and in the same time with sukuna.

“i know, you hate humans and shit. and i’m sorry i don’t remember you, or that i know you? i’m confused. i just… can i ask something?”

you sighed.

“can you bring yuji back? for me?”

a few minutes passed in silence. it was childish, really. thinking that ‘the king of curses’ would respond and listen to a human.

but it did. sukuna brought yuji back.

“happy birthday, princess.” started your lover, holding out a bouquet of wildflowers to you. it was not well done, some flowers were poorly placed and some even had some weeds next to them, but you appreciated the gesture.

“it’s so beautiful, kuna.” you responded, making your way to him for a kiss. “when did you have time to make thus?”

“i’ll always make time for you, you know that.” he responded, taking another sweet kiss from you. “nos, make a wish.”

“a wish?” you asked, “but didn't we need a cake for that? and candles?”

“just pretend, you know. we don’t have a cake right now, and it’s almost midnight. you show to make a wish.”

“okay, okay.” you laughed, taking the bouquet and hugging it.

‘i wish… to be with him forever’

“no! i can’t be with you. you are-”

“i’m what? last time we met, those weren’t your words, love.” the red-eyed man spoke, taking a few steps in your direction.

“it was all in the past. last time we met? that was a few weeks ago, sukuna. i don’t know you!” you shouted, keeping a fair share of distance. “i’m not your love anymore, so just give up, forget all about it.”

“i can’t do that. you know that, my love. i can’t”

“bring yuji back,” you commanded, looking at the man in front of you with despair.

he told you the truth. all your dreams and all your nightmares were just memories. memories from your past life, and so you lied to him that you didn’t remember anything, too afraid to tell the truth.

your life has just been turned upside down by a boy who ate your ex-boyfriend's finger. what a beautiful life you have, isn't it?

“kuna,” you asked, playing with your lover's hair.

“yes, princess?”

“i want you all to myself. i want to always be with you, together.”

“bring yuji back, you monster!”

“you are not a monster, kuna. you are a beautiful man, with a big heart. people just misunderstand you.”

“i hate you. i hate you, you broke me. because of you, i have insomnia, because of you i’m miserable. because of you, i used to think i’m crazy, you piece of shit”

“i love you. i will always love you. because of you, i smile more, because of you i feel alive again and because of you i will die at peace, knowing that you will be here when i wake up again, waiting for me.” you spoke gently, taking his rough hand in yours.

“promise me, kuna. promise me that you will find me in my next life, and we will be together again, even though i will not remember anything.”

“i’m not breaking my promise, princess.”

the photos were taken from pinterest

tags: @wr4inn @cyzvx @sunnshinie @guinevere666 @periodbloodmanipulator @esauritamaviva @uhnanix @shadowstar123

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xmalereader · 10 months

Text

Miguel O’Hara X Black Cat! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors Note: Took some inspiration from Felicia Hardy and Selene Kyle, let’s be honest Selene is my mother and will let her whip me whenever she wants 😌, so why not make this shot full of sass and perhaps some slight sexual tension? Also all Spanish words are correct, I am fluent in Spanish and Latino myself!

Summary: Every universe had a black cat, weather it ends in a good or bad outcome every Spider-Man had at least experienced being around a black cat. Miguel had his own variant back at his universe, but his story with black cat is interesting.

Warnings: ATSV Slight Spoilers! Some angst, mentions of time travel, breaking and entering, kissing, language, Miguel is tired, mentions of past divorce, mentions of Gabrielle, timeline, loop holes, miles wants to be adopted, reader is trying to bring hell, reader is protective of Miles, breaking the rules, toxic Miguel, Toxic reader, a negative plus a negative is a positive.

Word count: 4.1K

— || Part Two || Part Three ||

—

Noir didn’t know why he enjoyed watching the kid mess up, but it brought some joy into his daily task. Here he is standing on the edge of a roof top, staring down at the city’s number one hero trying to get himself untangled from his own webs. Both he and the little spider in red and black were chasing each other throughout the entire city, nearing midnight he was caught by the cities hero stealing a very valuable gem that was worth thousands, good enough for Noir to steal. How could he not? Now, after hours of chasing here he stands, head tilted in disappointment as he watches the little spider trying to escape his own webs after a malfunction in his own creation.

“Now this goes—wait, no…”

Noir tilts his head back, signing deeply to himself as he tucks the gems into his pocket before jumping down from the building and landing in front of the kid. He was a thief, not some cruel person who’s going to leave this poor kid stuck. “Kid—“

“I got it! I got it! Just have to—AH!”

The kid only get himself tangled into the web even more, causing the thief to roll his eyes, using his own claws to cut thought the webbing like it was nothing. The little spider looks around in surprise and smiles under his mask. “Hey, that worked!”

“Indeed it did.” Noir mocks him back, rolling his eyes from underneath his goggles.

“Now, I’m turning you in—!”

Noir holds his hand up to cut the kid off, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “Kid, we’ve done this too many times. We all know that you’ll never be able to get me so just let it go and go after someone who is actually causing harm.” He give the kid a pointed look before using his grappling hook to get back to the roof top and continue his way back home. Only for the kid to follow after him, he expects himself to get into a fight with the kid again, knowing that he would win the fight and end things quickly.

“Wait! Look, I get that what you’re doing isn’t entirely dangerous nor are you harming anyone but, why do it? Why steal when you can just get a job?”

Noir’s eyes widen and bursts out laughing, shaking his head as the kid stares back confused. “Get a job? Kid, I did have a job but, no matter where I worked it was never enough to survive. Not everyone has an easy life and if you have to take some risks then take it. You can try and stop me all you want, kid. But, it won’t make things better.”

The kid stays silent, taking in his words as Noir brushed past him and makes his way towards the other side of the roof.

“Wait!”

Noir sighs, hand on his hip and looks over his shoulder to see the kid standing his distance. “I’ll stop coming after you.”

That causes him to raise a brow, confused and surprised by the kids sudden words, before he could ask why the kid speaks up. “If you teach me how to fight.”

Of course.

That’s how the two have been getting along after a year of teaching the kid how to defend himself, he was new to the whole hero thing and Noir was the only one who was able to teach him a thing or two. It was rare for him to connect with people who weren’t trying to kill him or let alone take him to prison for stealing something valuable of theirs.

Currently both of the two are sitting on top of a clock tower, the kid eating some pizza while Noir sips his morning coffee, watching the sunrise after spending all night training the kid on how to land his punches. “Isn’t it too early for you to be eating that stuff?” He mumbled out, getting the kids attention who turns to him with a stuffed mouth full of pizza.

“…no?”

Noir chuckles at the kid. “Don’t come to me if you start getting heartburn.” He mumbled around his coffee cup before taking another sip, focusing on the view ahead. The two spend most mornings like this, eating ‘breakfast’ together and enjoying each others company. The kid had stopped trying to get him arrested and each time Noir was caught stealing he always made it out without an issue.

He’s known the kid for a year now and he’s grown onto him. The last time he was around someone he cared about he ended up losing everything and always pushed people away from getting too close, but the kid always found his way back into his life. Noir breaths softly, glancing at the kid who had just finished his box of pizza and closed the lid while whipping the grease from his fingers onto his suit, causing the older man to grimace at his manners.

“All done, so what’s the training today?” The kids voice is full of enthusiasm which causes Noir to chuckle. “No more training.” He sets his coffee cup to the side and stands from sitting on the edge of the clock tower, towering over the kid who tilts his head back, staring at his second mentor. “You’re ready to do things on your own and I am done here.”

“Wait what?” The kid tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean your done here? Are you leaving?”

Noir placed a gentle hand on the kids shoulder. “You’ll do fine on your own, I taught you nearly everything I know. I’m clearly not needed anymore and I have business to attend somewhere else.” Noir was reaching a deadline with his stay here with the kid and had to move onto his next task, wanting to avoid bringing the kid anymore trouble that he’s already dealing with alone in this city.

The little spider before him doesn’t know how to react to this situation, clearly not happy with the outcome but knowing that he can’t do anything about it. “Will you be back?” He asks.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Noir shrugs his shoulders, sighing deeply to himself. “I don’t know…” He really didn’t, one moment he’s here and the next he’s gone. That was his plan and always has been.

Noir can see how bummed out the kid is and can’t help but, pull the kid into a gentle hug. “I’m ever around I’ll make sure to meet you. Perhaps during one of our usual chases.” He gets the kid to chuckle at his humor before the two pull apart. He’s staring at the kid with a sad smile, with a clawed index finger he bops the kid on the nose or where he thinks his nose is at due to him wearing the mask.

“Take care of yourself kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

Noir chuckled. “You’ll always be a kid.” He picks up his empty coffee cup, making his way over to the ledge of the clock tower, facing his back towards the kid before looking over his shoulder to give the kid one last advice. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do, remember that.”

With that he jumps off the tower, leaving the kid on his own to continue on his own path.

Noir already planned to leave this place and couldn’t delay it any longer before he finds him. Upon arriving to his apartment, he slips through the window undetected from the neighbors and slips off his tinted goggles along with his gloves, letting out a deep exhale as he looks around the semi empty apartment that he was only planning to use for a short period of time.

He toss the gloves to the side and keeps the rest of his uniform on as he works around the apartment, collecting certain things to take with him while the other stuff he stuffed inside a trash bag, clearly not needing that stuff any longer and tossing it out the window, where it landed down below and into the dumpster.

Once the apartment is fully empty he reaches inside the bag he was planning on taking with him, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a silver bracelet. He stares at the blank screen, knowing that once he turns it on he will be traced, only giving him a few minutes to plan his escape. He zips up his bag and slips on his goggles again along with his gloves, slipping the bracelet over his wrist and with his index finger he taps on the blank screen, watching it turn on, activating.

“Five minutes.” He whispers to himself as he quickly types in Earth-42502, watching as a portal opens before him.

Adjusting his goggles, he takes a step forward only to freeze in place when another portal opens behind him. “The hell?” He looks over his shoulder, eyes widening under the goggles as a flash of red and blue zips towards him. He doesn’t have time to think as a hand wraps around his throat, knocking him back into the other earth.

The two are free falling through the air, grunting as his hand finds the others wrist and glares. He’s quick to use his strength, kicking him off as they continue to fall. “That was faster than usual.” He calls out, getting the other spiders attention who glared under his mask.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive to Earth-42502, portal opening onto the roof top of Oscorp Tower. Noir lands gracefully, but is quick to jump out of the way when the other spider lands where he once stood.

“Here I thought I’d never find you.”

Noir remembers that voice too well, remembering the days that the two would wake up next to each other.

“Seems like your desperate to find me.” Noir speaks up, taking cautious steps back as his eyes follow Miguels large figure. The man showed off his talons, taking dangerous steps forward as if stalking his prey.

“Let me guess, you were waiting until I activated this little guy, huh?” He raised his left arm to show off the bracelet he wore. The same bracelet that once belonged to Miguel and that he was able to snatch from during the time he was running away from Miguel. “Lyla’s not good at tracking.” He adds with a grin on his face.

“At least she found you before you can even open a portal to this earth. An earth that you don’t belong too.” Miguels voice is full of irritation, tired of having to chance Noir from different universes each time he disappeared off the radar.

“I know where I belong.”

Noirs voice drops down to a serious one, glaring under his own goggles as he takes steps back, slowly stepping on top of the ledge. “I’m not going back to that place, not after what you did.” He spits out.

“I was only trying to fix things.” Miguel sneers.

“By destroying a universe for our daughter? A daughter that wasn’t ours.”

“She was!”

“She belonged to another version of us and not us.” He points between himself and Miguel. The two have been chasing each other since day one, Miguels cannon affected him badly, causing him to lose his own child. Miguel had tried to find ways to fix it by going to other universe in hopes of getting their lives back together again only to mess things up badly and to cause a whole universe to be destroy. Their constant arguing grew worse as the days went on the two couldn’t be in a room together without trying to tear each other apart, leading to a divorce between the two. Well, a divorce wasn't really an option due to their universe being gone and instead was considered a break up between the two without having to sign he paper work.

In the public’s eye they were seen as married still. For them, they were separated.

Noir didn’t start stealing until after he stole Miguel’s bracelet, finding a way to stop Lyla from tracking him down and using it to escape from the man he loved. Giving himself a new life, stealing from every universe and only causing trouble for Miguel due to the constant anamolies being placed in the wrong universe, only giving the man extra work on getting it fixed.

You could say that it was Noirs way of showing revenge for all of the times Miguel blamed him for trying. Earning himself a reputation and treating it like a game.

“Y/n—“

“I don’t have time for you, right now.” Y/n hissed out, turning around and jumping off the building, getting Miguel to panic all of sudden and run after him, jumping off and diving down to wrap his arm around Y/n’s waist and using his talons to grip onto the side of the building also using his webs to hold on.

“What—?”

“I’m not letting you go that easy.” Said Miguel, grinning under his mask as Y/n’s eyes widen at the realization.”Don’t you dare!” Y/n uses his own claws in a threatening way only for Miguel to ignore his threatens, getting Lyla to open a portal back to their earth and quickly dropping his (ex) husband down the portal. Only for Y/n to land inside Miguels little anomaly prison as one of his traps is set around him, caging him inside a tight space as he tried to use his claws to claws his way through.

It wasn’t until Miguel drops down in front of him. The two could easily be face to face if it wasn’t for the barrier stopping them. “You’ll stay here until everything is fixed and then you can scream and yell all you want.” Said Miguel a hand on his own hip as his mask dissolves away, showing his real face to Y/n who frowned. “You can keep me here all you want, but I will always find a way out.” He was testing him.

This wouldn’t be the first time that he was trapped under Miguels watch, he’s escaped plenty of times before and he will do it again.

Miguel chuckled deeply. “Oh, mi amor. This time it’s different, because I’m going to make sure that I have a close eye on you twenty-four seven.” He looks over his shoulder to nod at one of the spiders from his society who turns around to type away on their computer. All of sudden Y/n is transformed to Miguels lab, appearing in the room in a flash as he yelps in surprise.

“Jesus…” He breaths out in surprise a hand over his beating heart as he falls back onto his bottom. “A heads up would have been nice.”

“Stop being annoying and be quiet.” Said Miguel, circling him like prey and focusing back on his work. Y/n grins, reaching up to push his goggles up and over his head. “Listen, cabeza de mierda. You brought me here in order to keep an eye on me, but never did you say that I couldn’t annoy you.”

“I—“

“So, I won’t stop talking your ass off until you let me go.”

Miguel stares down at his husband, knowing the man well enough to know that he was keeping that promise. The taller spider sighs in annoyance, already regretting his choice as Y/n grins at him and leans back against his elbows and crossing his leg over the other, lying down as he groans out loudly.

“Who would have thought, the two of us together again. After a year? Damn, it’s already been a year, I remember you slamming into a wall when chasing me through Earth-6574. God, the anger in your eyes was so satisfying!”

Miguel tried to focus on his work, ignoring the mans words as he continues on, rambling on about anything that will annoy Miguel until the man gives in.

The conversation went for hours, with Y/n changing positions every few minutes, one minute he’s lying down and the next he’s sitting. Another time he’s doing a handstand in the small space he’s trapped in or using his claws to try and penetrate the force field around him only to fail. He didn’t stop until he suddenly grew bored, lips sealed as Miguel finally takes in the peaceful silence, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“There it is.”

Miguel snaps his head towards Y/n, already knowing his plan.

“Enjoyed your five seconds of peace and quiet? Because, I was just getting started.”

Miguel wants to shout, opening his mouth to throw back an insult only for him to be disturbed by the sound of people entering his lab, getting his attention. Y/n also looks over to the group of teens approaching them, one specific teen getting the thief’s attention as he narrows his eyes, focusing on the curly hair and dark skin until his eyes widen in realization.

“Miles?”

Even though he’s only known the kid for a year and had trained him on the side, he knew who the kid was under the mask, but never said anything. Not wanting to freak the kid out. Whenever the kid wasn’t hiding behind the mask, Y/n would keep a close eye on the kid, making sure that he was focusing on school and attending his family diners and parties, somehow feeling responsible for the kids disappearance each time he skipped classes or lunch only to meet up with enthusiasm, excited to learn something new from the thief that the teen befriend somehow.

It didn’t take long for the platform to lower, reaching the ground and getting the teens attention. Before Miles could introduce himself or hand Miguel the empanada that he had in hand. The kids eyes fall onto Y/n, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Noir?”

This gets everyone’s attention, including Miguel who snaps his head in Y/n’s direction with a knowing glare that he knew too well.

“Hey kiddo!” Noir waves at Miles with a wide grin on his face, side eyeing Miguel as he feels his burning glare. Miles doesn’t think twice to quickly rush over and jump onto the platform, worry in his eyes as he ignores Miguel’s surprised look along with Gwen’s panicked looked and Hobie’s grin. The teenager was too focused on Noir to care about what the others were thinking about his actions, his palms against the force field that separated the two as he tries to find a way to get him out. “Why are you here? How are you here?” Miles began to ask as Y/n looked at Miles with a fond look and faint smile.

“Easy kid, I’m alright.” He tries to reassure the kid.

“Get him out.” Miles blurts out, turning to Miguel with a frown on his face. The sudden demand shocks the others, but not Y/n who can only smirk over Miles shoulder and towards Miguel who frowned deeply. “I’d listen to the kid.” He whispers, loud enough for his ex to hear.

Miguel grunts in disapproval and had no choice but to do as told as gets red of the red field around him, finally setting him free as Y/n stands from his spot, stretching his arms in the air like a cat and getting caught by surprise when Miles hugs the other man. “Whoa! Easy kid, I’m alright.” He reassured him, giving his back a soft pat.

His actions don’t go unnoticed as Miguel watched the two interact with each other, clearly reading the signs that Y/n had claimed this kid as his own, treating him with care and respect, knowing that if he comes between the two, Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to fight back like a feral cat. It’s happened before and it won’t stop him from doing it again.

“You said you had to leave.” Miles speaks up, getting Y/n attention who sighs deeply. “About that…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and giving Miles an awkward smile.

“Noir isn’t from your universe, he belongs in mine. He was caught breaking the rules and had no choice but to bring him here. He’s a slippery one and likes to get away, so letting him out of his cage wasn’t a good idea.” Said Miguel, getting an eye roll from Y/n and placing his hand on his hip. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve gotten away from it many times and you didn’t seem to mind.” Y/n said back, making his way around the platform and taking in Miguels work.

He takes notice of the videos and pictures of them both together along with this their daughter, causing a small sad sigh to escape his lips knowing that Miguel hasn’t gotten over the death of their daughter. Y/n was the only one who was able to move on from everything but Miguel, he couldn’t blame him. Everyone coped different with death and took their own pace in recovery. With a clawed finger he turns the pictures off, glancing over to Miguel who was watching him this whole time with a sorrowful look on his face.

Y/n quickly turns away, refusing to look at the man he once loved.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Gwen points between Y/n and Miguel, approaching the duo that stood before her, getting Y/n to smirk widely. “Actually were married.” He quotes out, getting a surprise look from both Gwen and Miles. “Divorced.” Miguel added, hands on his hips as Y/n pouts at his words.

“Divorced? Really, you two would look cool together.” Said Miles. “Adopt me?”

Y/n breaks out in laughter, throwing his head back as he laughs at Miles words. He jumps offer the platform and takes miles into his arms, pulling the kid close to him and squeezing him tight. “How did my ward become so adorable? If I could adopt you then I would!”

“Wait, your ward?” Miguel asks, clearly not likening this.

“Yep!”

“He’s taught me a thing or two.” Said Miles and with a proud smile on this face he extends his hand, opening his palm to show Noir the hard-drive that he stole from Miguel, getting a very proud Y/n to hug him again. “My child is learning!” He cheers in excitement while Miguel growls. “No, no, I refuse to let you take in a spider. You are enough trouble, let alone having a kid do it too?”

“If it wasn’t for me the kid wouldn’t have gotten better on his skills. I taught him how to defend himself and perhaps get away with a thing or two…” Even though Miles was suppose to be his universe hero and protector, he couldn’t help but, teach the kid a thing or two when it comes towards breaking and entering. Teaching Miles how to sneak back inside his room or dorm without being noticed and to pick on locks in case of emergencies.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself in disappointment. “No puedo mas, no puedo mas.”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He mumbled as he listens to Miguel ramble on while Miles is being saluted by Hobie, admiring the kids new skills form a very well known thief in many universes.

“Did you know that he stole this guitar for me?” Said Hobie, pointing over his shoulder where his guitar was strapped over his shoulder. “Mad genius.”

Miles laughs. “I don’t like stealing, but Noir once helped me with getting my mom a present for Mother’s Day. He stole a necklace for me, nothing too expensive but also nice.” Said the teen. Clearly he was nervous and ashamed for it when he first got handed the jewel from the known thief only for the anxiety and worry to fade away when he say how happy his mother was about the gift.

His father questioned him and all Miles told his dad was that he worked hard for it.

Noir smiles at the two before looking over to Miguel who stared with disappointment, but Y/n didn’t seem to care one bit wanting the teen to enjoy his life and he wouldn't mind breaking a few rules in order to give the kid what he wanted. Even if it meant bumping into his husband ever once an awhile.

#male reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel O’Hara x male reader #reader #Spider-Man #AU #black cat reader #marvel shot #marvel x male reader #ATMV spoilers #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers #black cat series #BlackCat tag

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randomshyperson · 4 months

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I Wanna Be Yours - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Once again separated, Wanda calls and brings news that changes everything, whether for better or for worse, it's still too early to say.

Warnings: (+18), making out, shapeshifting smut, intimate and unprotected s*x, creampie, fingering (both), slightly power dynamics, fluff and mild angst, avengers fighting like a family, brief mention of violence and injuries, some humor. | Words: 7.087k

A/N-> Am I getting too addicted to writing Shapeshifter Reader? Maybe. What can I do, it's so fun. Also, this is kinda late 'cause I spend the whole weekend watching Orphan Black (it's amazing). I hope you all like this, it took me some time, good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Limping and bleeding, you kept moving. The suspenders of your uniform were unbuttoned and hanging around your waist, and you grunted in pain as you leaned against the wall of the secure apartment, needing a moment to overcome your fatigue to open the door.

Cleaning the wound in silence was the worst part; your powers were messed up by the whole thing, and even though you tried to change, the blood kept coming out and you were forced to find a sewing kit and solve the problem.

Half an hour later, on the living room carpet still trying to stop shaking, your cell phone rang.

You thought it was Valentina, wanting to know if the whole thing had worked out. You almost cursed under your breath, this checking habit of hers always irritated you; the jobs always worked out, especially if the payment was made in advance. You were a professional, and the attitude carried an insinuation that you would fail, and if Valentina continued with it, perhaps it would be better for her to find someone else for the job.

But in a way, you knew that all this lack of patience had other reasons: with every stray bullet, every insult, and more difficult fight, you wondered what was the point of it all. You remembered Wanda Maximoff smiling at you, kissing you, and started to wonder if taking all that risk was worth anything, especially when crime made it so difficult to have moments with that witch who wouldn't leave your thoughts.

And as if guessing, it was Wanda calling. You smiled immediately, feeling a little excited for the first time that morning.

It had been so long since you heard her voice. After everything that unfolded with the Avengers splitting up and being chased, and this latest intense mission which, despite being very well paid, made it practically impossible for you to visit her. At last, Wanda was calling.

"Little witch." You greeted as soon as you picked up, only to hear a heavy sigh on the other end that made you frown in confusion. "Wanda?"

She sniffled, and you ignored the pain in your body to sit up straight. "I have to tell you something."

"Is everything all right? Are you hurt? Are you with your friends?"

"Detka, please." She interrupts you. "Just listen, okay?"

"Wanda, you're scaring me."

"I'm all right." She assures you straight away. "I'm safe, I promise. But I have... to tell you something. And I need you not to freak out, because I'm scared and if you get scared too, I don't think I can manage."

You sigh uncertainly, but end up agreeing. "I'm listening."

It takes Wanda a whole moment where the only sound is her breathing on the line. Until finally; "I think I'm pregnant." Your immediate reaction is to frown in a mixture of confusion and surprise. You don't say anything because you don't know what to say, and your silence makes Wanda sniffle again. "You have to say something."

You open your mouth, only to let out a short, nervous laugh. "I know, I just... I don't know what."

Wanda sighs, looking like she's trying to control her emotions. "Okay, I didn't expect, well I don't know what I expected. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, we, I can take care of this and then-"

"Wait, what?" you interrupt. "Wanda, take a deep breath, okay? Just give me a second to think." You struggle to get to your feet, and with the injury, let out an involuntary grunt of pain.

Wanda grips the phone tightly. "Where are you? Are you hurt?"

You chuckle weakly. "It's nothing, I've taken care of it."

"Detka..."

"No, that's kind of funny actually." You continue, stumbling around the apartment after your suitcase. "And I don't say this to worry you, love, but I've barely made it out of this mission. I'm losing my touch, I guess, or maybe I just don't want this anymore. And when I was shot, I just had this really sad thought that if I died on that island, no one would care. The shooter would probably be very glad, and my boss would be annoyed at losing money but would surely find someone else for the job. What I'm trying to say is that I had no reason to get up, but then I thought, if I die here, my little witch will see my picture in the news and I don't want to go without saying goodbye. Wanda deserves at least a goodbye. So I got up, shot a few more assholes, and managed to escape to this dingy apartment and sewed myself back together, all the while wondering if this is what I really want to do with my life. The answer is no, Wanda. I don't want to have hundreds of people targeting me and risk my safety for a handful of jewels or whatever other shit I have to steal from narcissistic billionaires scattered around the world. I just want to lie next to you, and watch you laugh at some joke on TV, or have meals next to you and kiss you, you know? And now you call me, to give me the best news in the world over the goddam phone. That's not how it should be." You zipper up a suitcase with a few changes of clothes safely inside. "My only purpose is to be with you, Wanda Maximoff. I don't want to have this conversation miles away from you, so just hold on. I’ll come to you.”

This time, you know she's crying with happiness. She laughs tearfully as she says, "I'll be waiting, detka. Don't be long."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Not surprisingly, the hardest part was getting to Wanda. Being a fugitive in the majority of nations has its disadvantages. It took almost two whole weeks for you to finally arrive at the address Wanda texted you, and unfortunately, you were late.

Only a very angry black widow was there to welcome you.

"I'm going to kill that girl." Nat declared as soon as she laid eyes on you. You tried to wave but ended up jumping in fright when a man's hand touched your shoulder.

Steve Rogers and his nomad beard chuckled at your reaction. "You shouldn't be here, kid."

Recovering from the shock, you grimaced and pushed his hand away with a pat. "Don't kid me, Mr. America. And this is a free country, I can be wherever I want."

Nat chuckled, a hologram coming out from her watch reflecting brightly in the dimly lit room. The Avengers needed better safe houses, not even in your first years of crime did you stay in such a crappy loft.

"That's a great one coming from an Interpol fugitive." He sneers back, but you lift your chin proudly.

"And what's it like being in this position? Have you come down off the moral high ground or do you still think you're better than the rest of us, Rogers?" You challenge, and although you sigh, Steve surprises you.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "She's just like Wanda." He says to Nat from across the room, who clicks her tongue.

"Yep, same punk-ass attitude." Grumbles the widow, but despite the grimace, it sounds more like a compliment than a curse. "I can't believe Wanda thought it was acceptable for her to share the location with anyone."

You snort incredulously. "I'm not 'anyone', Romanoff! I'm her…girlfriend!"

Nat rolls her eyes, ignoring your protest and Steve steps out of the doorway to approach his friend. "So Nat, is the place clean?"

The widow forces a smile. "Apart from the shapeshifter intruder, yes. We've left no clues behind. And considering the agent's new agenda, we're going to have a peaceful few weeks for the time being. Wilson and Maximoff can stop moving for a while."

"Good news at last." Steve commented, but you cleared your throat.

"Any chance of me catching a ride to the place Wanda won't have to flee from?" You ask, and their expression doesn't give you any more confidence. "Okay, I'll wait for her to give me the address and I'll go by myself."

Nat chuckles incredulously, taking a step forward. "It's astonishing how irresponsible you two are." She says. "I know it must be hard for you to think of anyone but yourself, but you need to stop putting her at risk."

You snort. "The only astonishing thing here is your judgment, Romanoff. Acting like you were born a hero. Have you forgotten everything you did before the Avengers or Shield?" You retort. "You're no better than me."

But Nat snorts, nodding. "The difference is that I never had a choice. I was trained from birth for it, I didn't know any other life until Barton and Fury gave me a chance. You revel in chaos."

You don't lose posture, even as emotion begins to rise in your chest. "You know nothing about me."

"But we know about Wanda." Steve interrupts the conversation, as accusatory as the widow. "After everything that happened in Sokovia, she's our responsibility. Our family. It's not something anyone who isn't an Avenger can understand. And I know that she was vulnerable with the loss of her brother and that you took advantage of it."

You take a step forward, shocked by such a low accusation. "Take that back! I would never-"

"Oh, cut it out." Steve insists. "We all know about the kind of work you do, manipulation and lies are your specialties. Your signature is to deceive." He accuses, and for the first time, Nat flinches. Because the whole conversation could easily be handed back to her, and perhaps already has been by other people. "What's all this about? What do you want from Wanda?"

"Not everything is about work. Maybe I just fucking love her!"

Steve laughs incredulously. "Oh please-" But Nat interrupts the whole thing with an annoyed snort.

"That's enough, both of you."

The captain looks at her with some surprise. "Come on Natasha, you don't really believe she's serious." He is careful to lower his tone, like a private conversation between the two of them, an almost silent agreement about letting you go or not. Still, in that empty place, it's easy to hear what they're saying. "Weren't you the one who always says that love is for children?"

The joke is not well received. Natasha takes on a hard expression as she faces Steve. "Do you really want to discuss this, Rogers? When we're all risking our necks over your feelings for Barnes?"

Steve steps away dumbfounded. "It's not like that! We're freeing someone innocent! The right thing-"

"Would be to bring him to justice." Natasha interrupts without losing her tone. "The morally and legally right thing would be to bring the person responsible for 100 years of crimes to justice. There's no other answer, no other way around it. But he's family, and you're family. And that's why I'm here, and all the others who will stand by your side and go against the law and risk their necks, jobs, and safety. Things aren't as black and white as this right and wrong discourse and by now I'd hoped you'd be able to recognize that better, Steve."

He looks away, embarrassed and thoughtful. Nat sighs and takes the opportunity to approach you again.

"I can give you a ride. Just don't make me regret it, okay?"

For the moment, that's all Natasha offers in solidarity with you. It's the kindest thing an Avenger - excluding Wanda of course - has ever given you. It instantly makes Nat your favorite.

Steve doesn't accompany you two to the safe place. He says he needs time to think, and from the looks he exchanges with Nat, it's not hard to deduce that he's going after the Winter Soldier. You don't know where Sergeant Barnes is, but you have the impression that they do. It's not your place to question or monitor Steve Rogers' movements, so you just respond to the polite nod of farewell he gives you.

He takes the stolen airship, which is a shame because you love riding in those - Valentina's vehicles were never that sophisticated, but you've already managed to steal one of those from Shield and the ride was a lot of fun until you had to dispose of the aircraft in the Caribbean.

Natasha gets a truck, which makes you assume that the location can't be that far away. It's an incorrect conclusion because she comments on buying train tickets.

You fall asleep in your seat. That must win you some points with Nat, who is surprised that you trust her enough to sleep because when you wake up from a very nice dream with Wanda, she starts small talk.

Accords, favorite crimes, and the morally superior attitude of some agents. Natasha giggles at one of your stories - about getting compromising items from government leaders - and you consider it a personal victory. She herself has stories about missions from her time as Black Widow which, if you don't consider the horror of her childhood, were kind of amusing. It's probably that you're the only person Nat can tell these things to without any kind of judgment. Equal to equal.

She's almost at the nearest station when, at the signal, she surprises you completely.

"I know about the baby."

You blink at her surprised eyes. "Did she tell you?"

But Nat denies it, without taking her gaze off the road now that the two of you are reaching a busier area. Even with the different appearance, the blonde hair being something to get used to, she has to be careful.

"They ran tests before admitting her to the raft. With all of us that they managed to capture at the airport, in fact." says the widow. "It was to categorize skills, check for injuries, but they ended up finding something else."

You sigh, also paying attention to the surroundings and any curious civilians who risk looking inside the vehicle. Everyone seems busy with their own problems, but you also check the streetlights for surveillance cameras.

"She must have been so scared." You whisper, and the guilt surprises Nat. You swallow dry before adding: "I should have been with her."

"What happened, happened. It wasn't really an outsider's fault."

You smile sadly, it's not exactly reassuring, Natasha doesn't seem to be very good at these things, but she's kind enough. She means that the Avengers' fight was something between them and that it wouldn't make sense for you to blame yourself for Wanda's imprisonment. Even so, you feel you could have prevented it if you'd convinced her to run away with you. But again, how different would the life you could offer her would be?

"When I heard about the Raft, she was already gone." You say. "I guess I should thank you for being so fast in getting her out."

Nat chuckles briefly, turning the steering wheel towards the streets beyond the parking lot. This car will probably be abandoned there.

"It wasn't me who got her out, so no." Retorts the widow. "You must have seen the fight on television, the way we were divided." She waited for you to nod in agreement before continuing. "The team that was left standing, Tony’s side I suppose, helped capture the others. Fighting with Steve. But when the tests were done, General Ross got very nervous. He was afraid the story would leak, and the image of a young terrorist that the media had planted would turn against him, now that it was a pregnant woman being beaten and handcuffed in front of the cameras. His anxiety alerted the others, and well, Stark may be many things, but as soon as he knew the truth, he got her out of there. Vision confirmed the whole thing, he's got some scanning abilities or something. And I think they come up with some story and Vision was supposed to chase her after the vehicle she was in left the route, but Wanda was never found by Ross again. I know Vision and Tony help her. And then she was the first of us to catch up with Steve."

Natasha parks the car. She almost thinks you're busy absorbing the story when you pull something out of your pocket and hold it out to her.

"It was sent to me while I was in Greece. I guess this is my way of making us even." In your hand is the file of a job you rejected a few weeks ago. To track and recover a package of stolen vials, of a defector last seen in Morocco. Unknown contractor, but payment of half a million dollars in advance.

"You should have taken it, the money was good." Nat commented as she grabbed the photo of the vials attached to a small one of her face with her hair still red, carrying market bags somewhere in Norway, the place where the last trace and possible suspect was seen.

You gave her a short smile, now that Nat had parked the car, she busied herself flipping through the old file.

"I missed my chance." You mutter. "What about you, Romanoff? Did you miss yours?"

She mimics your smile, shaking her head. "No. This time, I finished off the bastards." She assures you, nodding. "I didn't get the chance to kill Dreykov myself, but someone who deserved it more did it for me."

You nod, respecting Natasha's choice not to delve deeper into that painful subject. You know just enough about the Red Room, and one of the few things is that General Dreykov was the leader and that Romanoff should have killed him years before. If she did it now, the mission must have been to put an end to the whole thing.

"I kept monitoring Ross, after everything that happened. I heard you made a fool of him when you ran off alone from the team he set up for you."

She shrugged, a smile hiding the pride of her own abilities. From the car, you took only a backpack that she had prepared, and you weren't surprised to see Natasha take out a lighter and burn the files before throwing them in the nearest garbage can.

Side by side and with your heads down, you walked to the station.

-&-

Wanda has a bit of a meltdown. It's the hormones, you're sure of it.

She jumps on your neck, expelling a sort of magical wave of excitement that makes you almost too cocky to recognize how happy she is to see you.

Natasha gets worried because the windows rattle and the last thing anyone needs is to draw more attention to themselves. She and Sam exchange a quick nod, and the widow mumbles something about the two of them heading out to restock supplies and you know it's a favor so you and Wanda have time to talk alone. The Falcon is confused by the whole thing, and you hear some distant questions along the lines of "Since when do we call the bad guys to the team" before Natasha closes the door.

Not that Sam Wilson's opinions are worth anything when Wanda pulls your face to hers and kisses you with all the longing she's been feeling.

It's passionate and intense and makes your heart soar. You break into a dopey smile like hers, nearly dizzy with love to the point of not being able to say anything. Wanda, as close as humanly possible, speaks first in a husky tone:

"You took your time."

The teasing makes you smile, and without stopping smiling, you start playing with the loops of her jeans.

"Sorry, darling, you changed your address too quickly. You're getting good at this fugitive life, aren't you, Maximoff?" Your question almost goes unanswered when you decide to make a path of chaste kisses from her cheeks to jaw and to her neck. Wanda sighs affectedly, trying to keep her eyes open.

One of her hands goes to your hair, and she giggles when she feels it grow a few centimeters between her fingers. You nibble her ear before looking her in the eye and are greeted by dilated, curious pupils.

"Why have you changed?" she asks quietly, her fingers still assessing the new length of your hair.

You scrunch up your nose, a gesture that has become habitual with the witch snuggled up to you. "I'm just following your friend's safety tips." You explain casually. "All I need is a cap and sunglasses and my Avenger disguise is complete."

Wanda snorts good-naturedly, knowing full well that you're making fun of the bad disguise she was wearing when you two first met. To be fair, Natasha has always believed that the simplest is the most effective, and so far, most Avengers have managed to go unnoticed with just glasses and a cap, no matter how ridiculous it may seem.

"Maybe I should follow her example." Wanda then comments, and although she seems to be focused on what she's saying, you're surprised to realize that her hands have reached down to remove your belt. "What if I get some blue highlights?"

Your laugh is a little hoarse and distracted because Wanda has thrown the belt into some corner of the apartment and is pulling you both backward, probably to where her bedroom should be.

"I guess you either go big or go home."

She hums thoughtfully, perhaps making some mental note of the matter. You're more focused on the way she slips her hands inside your blouse and scratches your stomach, biting her lip as she feels your muscles twitch.

Wanda closes the bedroom door with her foot, and you don't put up any resistance to feeling her lips on yours, hungry and impatient this time.

The kisses are too hot for you to think coherently, but you hear the last remnants of reason to hold a half-naked Wanda by the waist.

She, as breathless as you, looks at you with some concern and confusion at the interruption.

"Is something wrong?" Wanda asks hoarsely.

You swallow dry, your hands on her waist. "It's okay, it's just..." And suddenly, you seem very shy. You can feel your cheeks flushing, and maybe you should force your body not to have this kind of reaction, but you never do that with Wanda. You don't have to hide things from her. She looks at you expectantly, her hands caressing your shoulders as a way of reassuring you. "Hm, I was wondering, are we supposed to be doing this when you're...." And you looked down a little, at her belly, until Wanda understood.

She broke into a shy giggle, then looked up at you. "Oh, darling, you're so adorable." She declares, stealing a kiss before tenderly explaining; "It's still early, very early. I imagine it's only going to start being a problem towards the end, and well, I'm going to be a nervous, angry, horny mess by then and I think you'd better not dare deny me that kind of relief!"

You nod foolishly, panting that you will certainly do whatever she wants. Wanda's face takes on a new color, and she bites back a smile, her eyes darkening.

"Whatever I want? I like the sound of that." She retorts, leaning in to break the distance again. The next kiss is almost a shut-up, charged with naughty intentions. She sucks on your tongue and you practically whimper. It's such a submissive sound that it surprises you both for a moment. "Oh, moya lyubov (my love), parenthood has turned you into a whiny mess..."

You groan in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, turning your face away. "And it made you quite mean, apparently."

She doesn't allow you to be grumpy. She grabs your chin and pulls off your pout with a kiss that's dirtier than the last. You can only moan in response, and when Wanda determinedly gropes her way into your pants, not bothering with foreplay, and is greeted by a dampness so massive it could be embarrassing, it's she who breaks into a moan.

"Fuck, I almost forgot how damn hot you feel on my fingers." You even try to regain some control of the kiss, to get that cocky attitude out of your girlfriend, but there's no way to do it when Wanda sinks two fingers inside you, as deep as the position allows. All that rips through your lips is a throaty moan. Wanda giggles mischievously at your reactions. "I really can't choose, baby. Having you squeezing my fingers or buried inside me. If you can keep up the pace, do you think we could try the second one later?"

It wasn't really a difficult request to comply with - until it was, because Wanda was more insatiable than usual. The first orgasm on the armchair was not even close to being enough for her. Neither for you, to be fair.

Wanda seemed to have discovered something new - a dominant attitude that you both hadn't yet explored. As far as you're concerned, whatever Wanda wishes will work for you. You're there to please her, simple as that.

She seems to have no restrictions on the ways this can happen. With her fingers deep inside you, her tongue swirling across your clit or changing positions, and sitting on your face and coming messily until she's squirming all over the sheets.

She already came four times when you sense a change of attitude, and the connection between you and her is so intimate, that Wanda has barely adjusted herself on the bed and you're already hugging her from behind, your arms around her and your mouth busy marking her neck. She gives you a sleepy smile, looking truly ruined for the first time all night. It suddenly occurs to you that she'll tire more easily now.

You kiss behind her ear and adjust your hips. Wanda sighs as she feels the familiar hardness rubbing up against her ass.

"Don't tell me you don't have some energy saved up for your own challenge?" You tease next to her ear, grinding gently into her. The friction elicits heavy sighs from both of you, and Wanda grabs your hand that rests on her belly before entwining your fingers together.

“Just one more, dorogoy (sweetheart).” She whispers as she guides your hands into her chest. Your free one helps yourself fit into her, and the same moment you grope her naked breast, playing with the hard nipple, you bury your cock inside her. Wanda lets out a sinful moan, her velvet walls welcoming you with a breathtaking heat. You nearly came with the mere state of being inside her - the way she squeezes you takes you off orbit for a moment.

You wanna be gentle, she’s a pregnant lady for god’s sake. But it seems that Wanda expects just the opposite the second you move - She takes the lead of the movements, your hips serving as a lever for her to rock back into your cock. You have to bite her shoulder to keep yourself from coming, and her response is to hold your hand thingly against her breasts, a single request for you to keep stimulating her nipples.

There’s no way to keep this peace for long - Wanda herself feels her body betraying her a short moment after, the deep strokes of your cock taking her to blinding pleasure now for her to do more than drool into her pillow. You found a sweet spot and she arches her back, a new wave of arousal dripping down her thighs.

She struggles to catch a breath - trying to tell you she's close. There’s no need, really. You can feel the tightness increasing, and it’s impossible for you to hold it when Wanda finally comes. She cries out your name and her body goes stiff the next second. Your cum stays inside her, just like your cock.

“That was… fuck…” She tries to form a thought, all tingly, with numb, tingling legs. You kiss her shoulder, slowly rocking your hips only to hear her soft protest. “Too much, babe.”

After so many orgasms, that’s not a surprise. But Wanda feels so tender, it’s so addictive. You move a hand down, to play with her clit between her fingers and she can’t help but whine.

“Who’s the whiny mess, now?” You tease and Wanda's attempt at response turns into a deep groan when you thrust into her powerfully, enough to shake the bed. She chokes into a moan next when you start to catch a rhythm. Your fingers, toying with her neglected clit almost bring her to insanity.

The next climax comes faster than the last, and it’s harder. You have your face buried in her neck, your bodies entangled together as you move inside her. Wanda presses her face into her pillow when she comes, pleasure tears wetting the bed like her squirt. You groan against her skin when you fill her up this time, balls deep into her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your rusky moans in her ear prolong her climax - she can feel herself squeezing the emptiness when you pull out. A mess of white cum coming out from both of you. It’s such a dirty sexual act to stroke yourself a little longer, to spread out every drop of your pleasure into her skin.

Everything, every drop, belongs to Wanda. It’s all hers, because of her.

Suddenly, she wishes she could do the same. Fill you up too, and own every version of your pleasure. This thought is written into her brain and pushed away so she can call your name. Your warm arms are around her before she can miss them.

“I should get you clean up.” You whisper and she holds closer.

“Later.” It’s all she whispers back, being defeated by her exhaustion next.

You kiss the top of her forehead once she falls asleep, a smile on your lips before you allow yourself to give up on the tiredness as well.

-&-

If it hadn't been for the memories of last night and the sweet scent you knew, your natural reaction would have been to jump away in alarm at the soft caress in her hair. But you knew it was Wanda, and instead of running away, you sank your face against her neck and felt her giggle slightly, her heart racing before settling down.

She adjusted a little a minute later, and with a husky voice in your ear, whispered; "You have to get up, darling. We should talk."

Despite the soft tension that rose in your shoulders, Wanda's request was really just that. As a matter of course, it made you almost displeased that she would hold something like that back so as not to bother you.

You hummed in agreement and placed a chaste kiss on her neck before pulling away. Wanda watched you expectantly, but you just stretched and pulled the covers off as if nothing important needed to be discussed.

She couldn't contain her own anxiety. "Are we going to talk now?"

You chuckled briefly, glancing at her for a second before looking around the room for your clothes. "I think we need to eat something first."

"Y/N..."

"I'm not avoiding the conversation." You interrupt her sincerely, to reassure the fears she can't hide from her eyes. You offer her a smile, your hands clutching the pants you've just found. "I'm just hungry. And I know you are too. This isn't an unpleasant topic, Wanda, it's just going to be difficult. For obvious reasons." You gesture softly, signaling to the hideaway room, so different from the fancy one she lived in in the tower. By instinct or not, once your pants are on, you also gently stroke the knife scar on your abdomen. Wanda knows exactly what you mean. "I think we're going to need a real plan. But I really don't want to come up with one on an empty stomach."

She nods, trying to smile but almost grimacing. Wanda is so nervous. All the passion of last night and the excitement of meeting you again are now calming down, and reality is coming back to her. You finish dressing and offer one last smile of reassurance before leaving the room in search of something to eat, and Wanda's immediate reaction is to put a hand over her belly.

She gasps softly. Her magic is able to feel life growing there. Her eyes fill with tears.

Looking around, she spots some mold on the walls. She notices some of Natasha's stolen surveillance equipment tucked away in a corner so they can track the agents and breaks down a sob.

How could she let this happen? How could she be so irresponsible as to think of having children in such a condition? Even before, she no longer had a home. Living with the Avengers was almost a favor, an employment contract. And what kind of mother could she be in a superhero routine anyway?

And on top of everything, her child won't be able to meet her uncle either, buried in a land she once called home.

Wanda only realizes she's in the middle of an anxious thoughts spiral because suddenly a voice is calling her name. Your face comes into focus again, and she realizes that you're trying to help her breathe.

Great, a panic attack was all she needed.

"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm here with you. Just breathe, okay?" you guided, gesturing for her to imitate your breathing. In a corner of the room, a breakfast tray smelled very good. Wanda tried to follow your lead, naming five objects she could see. She could see eggs, bacon, waffles, and orange juice. She could see a shiny chain with a small ring around your neck.

"Where did you get this?" She asks breathlessly about the item, and you smile pleased to see that she is coming to her senses.

"China, three years ago. I was working at the time, and I had a bad habit of keeping souvenirs." You say, stroking her hair. "It was in my pocket, and I put it back while I was in the kitchen. That's why you didn't get a chance to see it last night. Do you like it?"

She hums in agreement, having to close her eyes for a moment. You wait, wiping away her tears until Wanda has calmed down completely.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She starts as soon as she can speak without crying. You mumble that it's okay, but Wanda keeps talking. "I just started thinking about how we're going to do this. How are we going to raise a child in this kind of life? We don't even have a home, let alone money. What if I end up in prison again, and they want to take my baby away and-"

"Wanda, calm down, nothing like that is going to happen." You interrupt but she shakes her head.

Just a second later, she breaks into a sob. "I'm so scared." She confesses tearfully.

You look into her eyes.“I’m scared too.” You confess in the same, a relief laugh escaping your lips now that you’re both being honest with each other for good. “I’m nearly petrified, to be fair. But it’s alright, Wanda. It is. Because for the first time in my life, I am not alone. I have you and you have me, and as luck would have it, a bunch of grumpy superheroes as well. We don’t have to be so scared, we got this. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

She sniffles, getting shy all of a sudden. Her gaze goes to her lap before she finds your eyes again. And then she whispers: “I love you.”

You blink widened eyes at her, caught off guard. Wanda swallows, but then she smiles. She never needed words anyway; Your actions towards each other were always more than enough, not only for her but for the whole world to see exactly how much you cared for one another.

“You don't have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” You cut her out, a bit out of breath. Wanda can feel her cheeks growing pink and it doesn’t help that yours are doing the same. But you giggle shyly then, letting her go to cover your red face for a moment. “Shit, why does that feel so weird? My chest is so warm…” Your reaction elicits a hearty chuckle from her.

“Perhaps you’re allergic to love confessions.” She teases, receiving a playful warning stare before you bring your arms around her once more, to pull her closer and on your lap. Wanda doesn’t waste time in pressing her lips to yours, smiling into the kiss like yourself.

You break apart to tell her: “Don’t get so cocky, but you’re the first person I said that to.” She hums contently, her fingers playing with the hair on your nape. You stare at her eyes for a moment, just memorizing every aspect of her face as if she would ever leave your mind, until both of you are scrunching up your noses, making funny faces at each other and breaking into shared giggles the next.

You could marry her, right now at that second. Instead of asking, you just let out a deep breath and hug her again. The atmosphere of the room changed to a comfortable so intimate that for a second, you could believe that dirty hideout room was actually a home.

"We’re gonna be alright, Wanda." You whisper next. “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you again.”

She sighs, breaking the hug to look at you. Her soft hands caressing your cheeks. “You can’t promise that, and it’s okay. Because I love you and I can do anything with you here.”

You kiss her briefly. “I can promise. I just did, the universe can fuck off, I’ll stand by my girl.” It’s your stubborn response before you break the distance again to kiss her.

For the first time in a long while, Wanda doesn’t feel so scared. She trusts you entirely, even if your promise is impossible and the future holds a nearly dangerous uncertainty. You’ll take care of her and she’ll do the same for you.

She allows herself to push away real life, at least during breakfast. Sharing food in bed, giggling like two love-stuck teenagers. Making love in her bed all day, whispering sweet nothing to each other.

Until it’s time to get up and face reality.

Despite the evidence of your previous activities - matching set of hickeys and borrowed clothes - none of the Avengers pay any mind to that. Sam is clearly getting used to your presence, but he offers a grin at Wanda’s state before focusing on Natasha’s repeating security tips for him.

The widow is about to ask you and Wanda for a chat, you both can see in her expression that she wants to know how the whole baby thing will work out from now on when her cell phone rings. She steps out for a moment, muttering to whoever is on the other side - Wilson tells Wanda that’s probably Steve wanting to share locations and wondering if everything is alright. But when Natasha comes back to the room, she’s tense and serious.

She takes a deep breath and looks at Wanda.

“Clint decided to make a deal. For his family.” She says. Doesn’t take much explanation for you or Sam to understand that the Feds got him and instead of going back to the raft, he got himself some special conditions considering his service history. Wanda, out of surprise or denial, stares back at Nat with confused eyes. The widow sighs. “He’s not coming back.”

You don’t know everything about the Avengers dynamics, but you know about Wanda. And how much she cared for Clint since the man was some sort of mentor for her. That and well, Pietro gave his life for him so that has to mean something. Clint was supposed to take care of Wanda, not just turn his back on her like that. She didn’t need to join the team or this fight, but she did, at his request, and now he didn’t even bother to look after her, to make sure she was safe and well before taking deals that wouldn’t allow them to see each other for quite some time.

The saddest part is that Wanda understands it. Family comes first, after all. So even though it made her sick to her stomach, she wasn’t his daughter. Not really.

“It’s okay.” She forces a smile, trying to look “okay” for Natasha’s pitiful eyes. “Seriously, Nat. It’s fine. I hope it was a good one. Maybe Sam should try it too, he has family as well.”

Wanda is clearly taking the focus out of her, and because you can see her shaking, you take her hand. She instinctively leans into you, finding some calming comfort in your heat.

Sam scratches behind his head, a little unsure of how he became the center of attention suddenly. “Hm, yeah, but… I should wait a little. I mean, my sister is fine. She has nothing to do with any of this, so I think she can manage to be without my help for a few more weeks.”

Natasha merely shakes her head in knowledge, her attention on the witch pretending everything was fine. “Sure thing Wilson.” She mutters. “Wanda, I know Clint wanted to say goodbye, but he just… needed to make a choice.”

Yep, that definitely didn’t help Wanda feel any better. You offer Nat a look, but the widow is almost too terrible at the whole consolation thing.

“What I mean-”

“He chose his family. I got it the first time, Nat, I didn’t need it to hear it twice.” Wanda cuts off, very harshly. Hurt. “Like I said, it’s fine. I’m not a fucking child, I can understand why he did it. He was three kids and Nathaniel is just a baby.”

You try to ease the tension on Wanda’s shoulders by kissing the exposed skin of her neck. She smiles sweetly, still upset but appreciative of your gesture. The scene seems to make Nat remember something very important.

“Well, speaking of babies…”

Turns out the other Avengers forgot to mention that to Sam. He got very loud and excited.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff fics #heart shaped #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff smut

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vexxandra · 1 month

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what is coming? (timeless pick-a-card)

for those who need comfort, or dream of the future, this might be the pac for you ☆ 3-17-23 .

PILE ONE ; " i'm so tired " ...

how long have you been keeping yourself awake? it's up to you to decide whether that statement was metaphorical or literal, but the point still stands. can't catch sleep? it's not your fault. you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you deserve to rest. sleep is a blessing that you will catch up on soon. the mistakes of your past shouldn't stop you from rejuvenating yourself. i'm sorry this relief from life has been taken from you.

i can see that what's coming toward you is more closure. conflicts being resolved, and action being taken to prevent future problems from happening. peace is coming, and more spiritual peace- however you may find it. you are finding what is lost or missing; a confidant, a part of yourself you lost, or a sense of responsibility. this will make you feel a little less confused in this dark time. whatever you find, make sure it benefits you, not hinders you.

extra: the number 7 or 16, cheerleading, studying, driving/cars, violent - carolesdaughter, the need to please, disappointment, "you are more than your thoughts, more than your past" green, spring months, gaming to cope, betrayal, "you deserve love because you exist"

PILE TWO ; " i am fighting " ...

you are so strong. your strength is commendable, and so is your resolve. you are making me smile. things seem to be good for you right now, but have they always? no one is born to be so resilient, it's our experiences that shape us to be who we are, and yours have molded you into a warrior, pile two. you are so strong, have you heard that before? i feel like you don't get recognized enough. but you suffered, and i see that. i see that, and i see you. thank you, for never giving up.

stability is reaching you. i feel like you have a 'fake it till you make it mindset' in order to reach what you truly want. but i see that you will soon have whatever you desire. it will be unmistakably yours, and you'll know in your heart when you find it. you will be emotionally fulfilled, and reach a state of kind of 'enlightenment' where you're like, i know what im doing now, it all makes sense. it will be a moment where everything clicks, and everything settles down.

extra: pink, red, gold, orange, chains of pearls, instruments, stuffy, nostalgia, memories like the color yellow, may, june, 2018, "this feels right", back to the future/past, vintage, aesthetic, dream girl vibes, photos, "everything is okay"

PILE THREE ; " where is the sun ? " ...

you have lost your sun, pile three. you remind me of a sunflower, looking for the sun to turn to, but what happens if the sun isn't there? you are aimless and lost, trying to find what has been stolen from you. but it hasn't, has it? it's time to take off your lenses, and realize that this isn't healthy. you have been stuck in a cycle for a while, and i feel like you kind of actually trap yourself in it. i get it, it's better to be trapped than face the reality. but is the pain you're causing yourself really worth it? please find strength in yourself to break free. trust me, it's better than staying. im rooting for you, pile three.

what's coming toward you is the strength to pull yourself out of this negative situation. i see you putting yourself first, and sparing yourself of further heartbreak, disappointment, and sadness. i can see that this will sort of be a tower moment for you; the tower has always been shaky, but it's only now that you are fleeing from it, and i'm proud of you. it's hard, but you can do it. after, you might find yourself stuck in your own thoughts secondguessing, but you did the right thing. never forget that. i also see someone of importance entering your life, a little after this.

extra: dont worrry darling, omori, pink beats, neurodivergence, black, alternative culture, crosses, pinky promises, mother figure, chocolate, willy wonka and the chocolate factory, balloons, lamps, llamas, "why would you leave me?", "because i couldn't stay", polish

#pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile readings #pick a card readings #pac #pac tarot #pac reading #intuition #intuitive readings #intuitive messages #intuitive #tarot free reading #tarot reading #tarot readings

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

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Snowstorm

Summary: As you stay together in a small inn, you accidently do something that triggers Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game, trauma talk

TW: a mild description of SA, a mention of rape

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

You want him.

Your body pulses with heat, and your veins course with adrenaline, the aftermath of the thrilling fight. Whether facing a dragon, a troll, or a devil, your muscles are taut, and the desire for more blood, debauchery, and victories fuels you. The longing for the fight to continue is undeniable, but nothing can hinder the path of your sword.

Yet, when the battle concludes, a different yearning takes hold. Your body desires something more personal, more natural, and at this moment, it craves Astarion.

A snowstorm blankets the surroundings with heavy flakes. You shiver in the cold. You get inside the inn, the only one along this part of the Long Road and go upstairs to the room you and Astarion have rented. It's the first time in months that both of you will sleep under a roof.

Astarion is there. Sitting on the floor with a book.

It's something with beds, he once admitted to you. The only time I used to have a chance to sleep on them was when I was seducing someone. I slept on the floor at the mansion, often tied up or chained. Hard surfaces feel safer; I know it sounds odd. I-I will try to adjust to sleeping in beds. Cuddling with you is worth fighting another shadow from my past.

Astarion puts the book away, studying you. You see happiness in his eyes, absolute joy.

"How was it, my sweet?" he asks. His voice is tender and caring.

"I wish there was one troll more," you pout. "I am ashamed even to ask the reward for such an easy kill."

"How dare they bother with you with boring tasks?" Astarion chuckles, finally standing up before you, opening his arms.

You are a weird couple. You effortlessly embrace your feminine side when you're in front of him, feeling like a beautiful, desired woman. To kiss him, you have to tiptoe a bit, and you revel in the sensation of sinking into his strong hands. Yet, you are the warrior, wielding a formidable two-handed axe. While you could easily lift Astarion (his elven bones being light and hollow), you refrain, knowing it annoys him.

You hang around his neck, nuzzling the collarbone. His arms press you tightly. "I should be upset with you for leaving me here," he teases, kissing your forehead.

"Just wanted to give you some personal space. Besides, that beast really took a toll on locals."

"Such a brave little thing, always thinking about the others. I still have a lot to teach you about selfishness."

You want to say something else but can't. You turn your eyes to the small window. The snowflakes are dancing in the winter wind, and you shiver.

Astarion helps you remove the armor, and it falls to the floor with a loud thump. As his hand slips under your shirt, you realize he has desired the same thing you have.

You pull away a little and then lightly push Astarion onto the bed. He chuckles and lets you lead. You straddle him with your hips, feeling a hardening bulge between your thighs. You kiss him and then take his white shirt off.

Astarion raises his elbows, anticipating your next action. You place your chilly palms on his chest, and although he would shiver if he were alive, the contrast between your usual temperature and that of someone who's just been outside in winter is barely perceptible to him.

You are burning hot, darling, he once told you. You are constantly burning like a campfire. No, more like… sunshine.

You tease his right nipple with your tongue and then lick the left one. Astarion groans, but you push him back on the pillow when he tries to sit down.

You don't notice that he stops looking at you and turns his face to the window. But you are already too aroused to pay attention.

You firmly grasp his wrists, using all your strength to pin Astarion to the bed, effectively restraining him. As he mumbles something, you silence him with a kiss, anticipating a response, hoping for a passionate reply that would make you lose yourself in the moment's intensity.

"Let me go," he mutters through clenched teeth when you part your lips from his.

"What?"

"Let me go!" he yells at you. His body is rigid; his fangs are bare, ready for an attack. You weaken your grip, Astarion frees his hands, and the next moment, you find yourself on the floor.

"A-astarion", you whisper. "What is wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

He is trembling; anger is mixed with fear and disgust. His mouth is half open, and his eyes wander as if looking for a hidden enemy.

"Leave me alone- "his voice cracks as if he's been screaming too long. It seems he wants to say something else, but whatever fear gripping him is too intense.

He gets out of bed, snatches the shirt, and puts it on like light armor.

What have you done; you think. You scroll through the memories, trying to figure out what has hurt him. Gripping his wrists? It's not like it could hurt him…

"Astarion, my love, » you stretch your left arm to him, but he recoils as if you are holding a razor to flay his skin.

"Go away. Go away!" he collapses on the floor, pressing legs to the chest.

There is no point in arguing; you will hurt him even more if you try to touch or console him. At this moment, you feel like your heart is pierced with a spear.

You leave the room and go downstairs.

The tavern on the first floor of the inn is empty. The snowstorm rages outside, threatening to bury the whole town.

Your heart and mind ache as you think about Astarion being alone with his fears and whatever nightmare you accidentally awoke. You are sure it was about hand gripping, and though it doesn't sound like something awful compared to what you usually do to each other, still -

You should have asked.

You should have asked him, you stupid cunt.

Astarion is still healing his broken mind and soul, and even if you don't have to be extra careful around him anymore, it doesn't mean there is no trigger left.

But there is no point in returning right now. You know him. If you press any harder, Astarion will just run away. And who knows where he will go in such a snowstorm.

You spend sleepless hours watching the snowflakes fall. The winds are howling like hungry wolves. Finally, you decide to come back – if Astarion still doesn't want to see you, you will just rent another room and sleep.

Because gods know you are tired.

…Astarion lies on the floor on his back, eyes closed. There is no implication that he's tried to hurt himself (it has happened a few times before after enduring yet another nightmare), and you are happy that at least he is here.

"Hello, my sweet", he says, opening his eyes. There is no fear or disgust. It is only the exhaustion of a person fighting monsters within for too long.

"I just wanted to check on you. If you don’t want me here, I will go."

He sighs. "Sit with me," he finally says, and his voice removes the stone from your chest.

You can't help but notice he's rolled the sleeves down. "Tell me what I did wrong".

"You? Nothing. It was just a… coincidence. Something got into my mind, and…you know how it happens to me".

You feel the desire to hold him, to hug him. You haven't seen Astarion so vulnerable for ages, but you don't want to trigger him further.

"We both know it wasn't. Please, tell me. And I am sorry for making you feel whatever you felt."

He tilts his chin up, studying the wooden ceiling.

"It just reminded me" he avoids looking at you. "One of my victims."

Oh no.

"I don't know who she was. He usually gave me some time to hunt, to choose a victim. But that night, he wanted something soon, right away. He said he would carve another poem on me if I didn't bring him anything within hours."

Astarion makes a pause. "It was a very similar evening. The snowstorm. So cold even I felt it. No one was outside, so I just went straight to the nearest inn to pick up some unlucky victim. It’s not like I had many options in such weather. "

His gaze wanders the room as if he is ashamed to look at you.

"There was a woman. Some old prostitute, drunk and filthy. It wouldn't take me much to do the job, and I was in a hurry."

You recognize this emotion on his face. Utter disgust.

"Well, I didn't have to play any tricks on her. There was no point. She just dragged me to bed, stinking like a pile of dead rats. Ideally, I would prefer to forget all the intercourses I'd had before you. But if I had a choice to choose only a few to forget, this would be the first I would name."

"Did she do the same things I did?"

Astarion finally looks at you. A familiar light returns to his eyes. "Darling, there were so many things done to me and things I did to others. We would have nothing left to do in bed should I decide to avoid every detail about my past."

"But still?"

"Yes. She gripped my hands and pinned me to the bed. The prostitute was pretty strong, and I thought she would break my arms. Or something else. At least, I would not be surprised if it happened."

It is not precisely that, you realize. Something after.

"So," Astarion proceeds. "Since she thought I was her client, I needed to pay for the "unforgettable service." I said I would gladly give her extra gold, but we must go to my place, that rich mansion in the Upper City. And some people, relatives of mine, would want her services as well. She followed me despite the terrible weather. Things we do for money and sex, I guess."

Astarion is silent again. The light in his eyes is replaced by disgust again.

"For a moment, I actually thought he liked her. At least, her blood. He was pretty content in the process. I was standing about five feet away from them, watching life leave her body. And seeing the choice I had as usual."

"A filthy rat and a sharp razor," you mutter.

He chuckles. "The rat wasn't really bad looking. Less filthy than the victim, that's for sure."

Astarion's shoulders start trembling.

"When he was done, he made me approach him. The moment I was in his arms' proximity, he started beating me. I don't know why. Because he didn't like the victim, because she was too drunk, because I did my job too bad or did it too good. But it was violent even to his standards."

The tears flow through his cheeks as if his body re-lives those moments of pain. You stretch your hand to show your intention but don't dare to touch Astarion. He looks at you but doesn't see.

"I don't remember how long it lasted. I started dissociating. It wasn't me. It wasn't my pain. Cazador beat me to the state where even vampiric regeneration needed time to repair the damage. And when I fell down on the floor, he –"

You know what he will say. You know what happened after.

"-he raped me"

The silence is unbearable. The only sound you can hear is muffled sobs. You feel like crying, too, but you get yourself together. That is the moment when he needs you, when it is you who is strong. Because he isn't. Because the monsters of the past have won.

"Astarion", you finally say. "May I touch you?"

He looks at you in horror, and you think he will either run away or snatch one of his daggers and slice his own skin.

"I don't know what was worse. That it was so painful because every fucking bone in my body was broken, that the other spawns saw it, that this dead woman was just near me. Or that after he'd finished, he ordered me to stay on that floor. I remember the window – it was a dark night, and the curtains were open. It was snowing." He points outside. "Snowing just like now."

Silence envelops you, drowned in a mixture of sorrow and rage. It feels like you've witnessed every horror that has befallen the man you love, only to discover that his mind harbors yet another layer of torment. The weight of it all is crushing. If it were within your power to end Cazador's existence a thousand times more, each demise would be crueler than the last.

Twenty-eight stabs by Astarion weren't enough for such a monster.

"My – My sweet, it wasn't you. I just heard his voice again in my head. As if he was still alive and that he gave an order not to move. Similar place, same weather, the grip." Astarion looks away. "I am sorry, it doesn't seem like… I will be able… for a while."

Now, there is shame in his voice, which breaks your heart for the second time.

"It's all right, Astarion. Take your time. Do you want me to touch you?"

"Not - not naked skin – please," he mutters.

You finally hug him, and Astarion melts in your arms.

"I am here, Astarion. You hear me? I am not going anywhere. I don't care about your past, about all these awful things. I am not scared. I am not disgusted", you say firmly. "Take all the time you need. Just let me know what you need.”

He finally relaxes enough to hold you again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Astarion, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Can we just sit together?"

You sit on a bed, putting the pillow behind your back. Astarion sits between your lap, putting his head on your chest. You hug him as tight as possible, pressing him against you as you reach for the blanket.

"What are you doing?" he giggles.

"It's so cold I won't be able to warm you alone. Relax"

Astarion nods, and, in a moment, his whole body is covered by the warm blanket.

You start massaging his scalp, and he releases a sigh.

"You are the best thing that happened to me," you whisper. "I love you. I will do anything to help you with your memories and your past. I am not ashamed, not disgusted. I knew what I was getting into when you told me the first details of your life. I am not with you for your looks. I am not with you for sex."

«That is still the most surprising because if you were for me for these two things, I could understand it.”

"Honestly, I really fall into your looks, don't get me wrong. Never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. But the more we traveled, the more I loved you.”

You kiss the crown of his head and are pleased to notice that he is no longer tense.

"Do it again, that – thing."

You kiss him, burying your face in his silver curls. "My beautiful elf, my love, my man, so strong, so beautiful, so resilient. Every spawn in that wretched place was broken in pieces. You were the only one who managed to preserve himself. Everyone was telling me you were a mess that would drag me to hell, but I saw such strength in you! You survived. You did the most unimaginable thing. You survived where anyone would die. Preserved your sanity where madness was the only remedy. And what you did back then, refusing to become the very monster, is the thing that makes me proud of you. Astarion, listen to me. You are everything. I want you. I need you. Your presence makes me happy."

He looks up at you and raises his hand to caress your cheek. His face is red with tears. He wants to say something, but words are drowning in cries. He covers his face again, and you start cradling him in your hands as if he was a little child.

Eventually the sobs subside, and Astarion finally relaxes. He turns his head toward the window, watching the falling snow.

"Do you want me to close the curtains?"

"No. I am making new memories."

"What?"

"The next time I see a blizzard outside the inn window, I want to remember at once how you held me, how I felt safe and loved. In time, I will be able to replace everything. "

He touches your knee cup below the blanket. "Tell me about that awful troll you murdered yesterday. With all the gore details."

You plant a kiss on his cheek. "Just don't complain you weren't there."

"Of course, I will complain. Had fun without me, how did you dare?" he laughs. "And what if this troll had hurt my darling girl without me by her side to protect her?"

"I thought I was the warrior in our relationship."

"You are the most amazing woman a man dares to get. So, forgive me for being protective."

You squeeze him in your hands. You feel like falling asleep, and the last thing that comes to your mind is how grateful you are for having Astarion in your life.

Tag List

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession

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pedrointofolklore · 9 months

Text

This is me trying

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel hated you. he hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. he hated how much he worried about you. click here for part two.

warnings: detailed depictions of depression, heavily implied suicidal ideation, slight violence, angst with a sprinkle of fluff, no explicit smut but it does get very suggestive (minors do not interact), minor character death, enemies to lovers, poor communication, misunderstandings, these fools don’t know how to act, joel is an asshole but then he’s sweet, brief mention of drug use, lots of swearing, age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, boston era/ellie era.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hey y’all. i just wanted to thank everyone who supported my last story rosebud (here’s a link if you want to read it). this story is a lot different and a lot sadder. i got the title from my favourite pop girlie taylor alison swift.

Joel hated you. It had to be his worst kept secret.

You hadn’t done anything to him. You used to think about it constantly, desperate to know what his reason was for despising you like he did, but you eventually accepted that he didn’t need a reason. He just didn’t like you.

Joel wasn’t particularly likeable himself. He was rude and intimidating and one of the most morally bankrupt people you’d ever met, but you didn’t hate him the way he hated you. You were Tess’s lackey—Joel tolerated you, and you supposed he wasn’t obligated to do any more than that. Although, he didn’t do it very well.

You’d existed in each other’s orbit in the QZ for a while, and finally met one night in the boarded-up old mall when you’d gotten to a stash of painkillers just before them. Joel wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot you between the eyes if Tess hadn’t been there.

Tess saw something in you—not a friend, not a life worth sparing by virtue of humanity; a business investment.

And it was a smart investment. You were young, agile and clever, incredible at slipping by unnoticed and gathering information. You knew all the best routes, the best times to take them, and you could swindle anyone out of their rations just by batting your eyelashes. You were willing to take the lead, to be the first one in and out to make sure the coast was clear.

It wasn’t the threat of death or the promise of mercy that made you join them—it was the sense of purpose it gave you.

Joel was adamantly against it. Things worked fine the way they did them, and he saw no reason to add another person into it.

“Don’t need to fix something that ain’t broken,” was how he’d put it.

You didn’t dispute that. Joel and Tess had survived for years, and they were clearly more than capable of getting the job done, but what you lacked in experience, you made up for in stealth and speed—something their aging knees struggled with.

Tess convinced Joel, which you soon found out she was very good at. You also found out that his compliance didn’t mean hiding his resentment.

He thought you were a careless, impulsive loose cannon, and he’d told you so after a particularly dicey deal with a particularly dicey FEDRA agent.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.” He followed you into your apartment uninvited. Tess made him walk you home, and you were sure he only did it because he wanted to berate you.

“Why do you care?” you asked, tossing your keys onto the counter. They slid off and hit the floor.

“You’re with us,” Joel replied. “You'll get us killed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes—you knew that infuriated him. “Am I on crack or have you not doubled your profits since I showed up?”

“I think you’re dangerous,” Joel said, ignoring you. “Always sneakin’ around, goin’ places you shouldn’t, playin’ mind games with FEDRA. Your luck’s gonna run out sooner or later, and I just hope I’m not around when it does.”

Your face burned with red-hot anger as you tried to fight the stinging in your eyes and the blurring of your vision, but you were too far gone. The tears fell, and they were ceaseless. You felt pathetic, but you knew this would happen. You didn’t often cry from sadness or pain, but anger always managed to bring it out in you.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?” you hissed. “You’re saying you don’t sneak around? You’ve never scammed anyone? You’re a smuggler, Joel! Be fucking real with me.”

“It’s different,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“Why, because you’re older? Because you have more experience?”

“‘Cause I don’t think I’m fuckin’ special.”

If his words were the dagger, the pure contempt in his tone was what plunged it into your stomach, twisted it, and left a gaping hole for all of your despair to come pouring out of, leaving behind a puddle of melancholia for him to gaze at in all its miserable glory.

It was the only time you might have hated Joel as much as he hated you. Working with him and Tess wasn’t perfect, but it was all you had, and now he’d managed to make it all meaningless. Your help wasn’t helping.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat.

You should have quit then, and you thought about it. After pounding your fists into Joel’s chest and screaming at him to get the fuck out of your apartment, you sunk down onto the floor and cried. You cried until you ran out of tears and were left with a nothing but a throbbing headache. You took a pill, passed out, and woke up to you discover that you’d lost the energy to really care about any of it.

You didn’t quit. If anything, you became even more audacious, but you never confused it with courage or bravery. Bravery was perseverance in the face of terror. Joel and Tess were brave. You weren’t like them.

Joel laid off after that. He wasn’t anything close to nice, but whatever animosity he held towards you was only ever expressed as quiet seething, and you could live with that.

Any fulfilment you got out of working with Joel and Tess dissolved, but for what it was, it still worked.

Until it didn’t.

Tess was dead. The buffer between you and Joel was gone, and you had no choice but to work together and get the immune girl to Colorado.

You wondered if there was a silver-lining in this wreckage. You thought that circumstance might force Joel to finally get along with you, and so you did the one thing you never did—you tried. You tried to help him, tried to speak to him like he was someone you actually wanted to speak to, tried to rein in some of your more annoying traits so you wouldn’t get on his nerves.

None of it worked. All you could get out of Joel seemed to be irritated mumbles and blank stares, and you couldn’t even blame him after what happened to Tess.

You never really knew if Tess actually gave a shit about you, or if she only ever cared about having an extra pair of hands around. Either way, you cared about her.

So, once again, you tried. When Joel and Ellie were sleeping—or at least pretending to—you walked down to the stream and tried to cry for her, but you couldn’t muster the tears. You even tried to get angry, mentally cuss her out for leaving you behind, but your eyes were dry.

You stared into the water, gazing at the way it sparkled in the starlight, and thought that the world didn’t deserve such a pretty sight. You couldn’t cry, but a deep sadness overtook you, weighing you down like lead.

Joel didn’t hate you.

He just hated how impulsive and reckless you were. He hated that you were smart, intuitive, and so maddeningly beautiful. He hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. He hated how much he worried about you.

There was a time he had disliked you. He used to think it was arrogance—that you truly believed you were so special that you could get away with anything. It was when he called you out on it that he realised how wrong he was.

Your reaction was frightening. You cried and screamed at him, pushed him out of your space. He didn’t know you were capable of such a strong display of emotion, but he’d struck a nerve, and those were the repercussions.

He recalled how the blows to his chest didn’t hurt, like there was no force behind them. You weren’t weak at all, you just couldn’t find the willpower to really hurt him. He wished you had hurt him. Maybe getting it out of your system would have helped. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to feel so guilty.

It became so obvious to him what was happening, and he felt like an idiot for not understanding it sooner. It wasn’t that you thought you were special, or immune to the consequences—you just didn’t care what happened to you.

Now Tess was gone, and he had this horrible feeling that he was going to lose you too.

His way of dealing with it was to push you away even more. He told himself it would make things easier when you inevitably left him.

Things came to a head one night after the three of you left Lincoln. Joel had been driving all day, and he would be doing it again the next day. He was in desperate need of sleep, but as he stared out into the eerie darkness of the woods, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen if he didn’t stay awake.

He heard the rustling of a sleeping bag sometime after midnight. He thought it was you just rolling over in your sleep—something you often did—but then he heard the faint sound of dead leaves crunching under feet, and you were by his side a moment later.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you asked in a soft, sleepy voice that made his chest ache.

“Keepin’ watch,” he replied bluntly.

“But you’re driving tomorrow,” you said. “You need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve slept, so I can take over,” you offered.

“I just told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You backed off, hanging your head in shame, and he instantly felt horrible—you were being nice to him and he was still being a complete asshole.

Joel tried to tear his gaze away from you. He wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, that he hadn’t just done that, but his eyes stayed on you. He watched the shame dissolve and replace itself with indignation. You pulled your head up and glared at him with a fire in your eyes that threatened to burn right through him.

“I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I never meant for you to get stuck with me. I know it’s your worst fucking nightmare. If I could switch places with Tess—“

“Stop.” He wouldn’t hear that. He couldn’t. It would kill him. “That’s not—I’m not thinkin’ that. I’m glad you’re here, understand? I need you with me.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound hit his ears like a gunshot. “You just told me you didn’t. All you’ve done—all you’ve ever done—is act like I’m a fucking waste of space.”

Joel’s mouth when dry, his heart dropped to his stomach, and he thought he might vomit. It shouldn’t have shocked him like it did, but hearing you say it made him sick. He put the gun he’d been clutching down on the ground, disarming himself in more ways than one. “I don’t think that…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just—fuck—I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Are you gonna leave?”

“Leave this mission or this mortal coil?"

“Either, I guess.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Your voice was just a whisper, and it felt like you were ripping Joel’s heart out and crushing it in your hands.

Fuck no, he didn’t want you to leave, and that was what scared him the most; feeling attached to someone so detached (and yes, he was a hypocrite). He wouldn’t be able to take it if he woke up one day and you were gone.

But he couldn’t keep doing this to you. It was selfish and cowardly and it just made everything worse. He made everything worse.

“I can’t do this without you,” he told you. He hadn’t known how true it was until he said it.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.” He felt suddenly impassioned. “You can’t…if you…just don’t. Promise me you won’t.” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t let the words out of his mouth and into the universe. You both knew what he meant.

“I promise,” you said. You sounded oddly tranquil, but Joel was destroyed, even though he knew he didn’t have the right to be—this was entirely his fault.

“Can you let me keep watch so you can get some sleep?” you asked again.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Just need to know where you are.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and glossy, and for a second he thought you might start crying. Before he could think of something to do or say, your hands were on either side of his face, pulling him down into an urgent kiss.

He didn’t know what was happening, what you were thinking, or what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter, he just knew he needed to kiss you back. One of his hands found your waist while the other splayed out across your back, pulling you flush against him.

It was nowhere near sweet. It was intense and unyielding—a frantic clashing of teeth and bruising of lips. It was intoxicating, earth-shattering, but felt so right, like it was always meant to happen—or needed to happen.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, somehow bringing him impossibly closer to you. You hiked a leg up around his hip and tugged his pelvis forward. He ran a hand down from your waist, brushing it over your ass and gripping your thigh.

You rolled your hips into his, eliciting a deep, involuntary groan from him. He was painfully hard. He knew he would regret this, but he set your leg down and managed to tear his mouth away from yours.

He missed the feeling immediately, and he didn’t have the self-control to pull away completely. His hands were still on you, pressing you against him. You looked so pretty and ruined gazing back at him; breathless and flustered with pink, swollen lips.

Fuck.

You had just kissed Joel Miller, the man you hated.

You didn’t hate him.

You kissed the man who hated you.

He didn’t hate you.

You kissed the only person you had left. You kissed him even though it made no sense. You kissed him because you wanted to.

You started it, but then he stopped it. His eyes were dark, his face was flushed, and the bulge in his jeans was not going away. He looked like he was in pain, struggling with his own conscience.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He grinned softly and reached a hand up to tangle in your hair. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture. “I liked it.”

Your heart melted. He was so lovely, so dear. You never imagined in your wildest dreams that Joel Miller could be like this.

“Just don’t wanna take advantage,” he said.

“You’re not. I kissed you,” you reminded him.

“I know, but you're upset, and you don’t like me much, and you’re tired. Don’t want you doing anything you don’t actually wanna do.”

You did want it, but you were also overwhelmed and exhausted, and more importantly, it would have been a majorly fucked up thing to do with a 14 year old sleeping 20 feet away.

“But if you still want it later”—he gave you another chaste kiss—“you can have it.”

You giggled, kissing him one more time. You didn’t know when you'd be able to again.

His gentle smile faded, and he looked into your eyes with devastating sincerity. “I got you now, okay?”

“I know, Joel.”

“Do you have me?” he asked.

“I’m trying.” You hoped that would be enough, because it was all you had.

“That’s all I need, sweetheart.”

a/n: so i wrote most of this when i was sick with the flu and i fully intended for it to be a one-shot, but i love this dynamic and i’m thinking of exploring it further. let me know if y’all would be interested in seeing more of these two. (edit: this a/n is now redundant bc i did in fact write the sequel).

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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