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syoddeye · 3 months

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big game

ghost x f! reader | ~5k words cw: simon lies, mean simon, red flags? what red flags, hunting, animal death (discussed), predator/prey, knives, bad restraints, bad suspension, rough (arguably bad) sex, clothed man & naked woman, blood, murder, italic abuse. please tell me if you need something tagged. a/n: a cross between this post and this post. banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

Simon lets slip that he owns a cabin nearly a year into the relationship. It’s the kind of thing where you could and maybe should be upset, but you play it off as no big deal. You have to. This is Simon. The man didn’t show his entire face until the sixth or seventh date.

(He joked about it, too, that first time—Breathe a word about this mug, and I’ll have to kill ya. You laughed, delirious as he split you in two. He didn’t.)

It’s a few hours away from the city, on the far edge of the boonies. It’s long beyond the truck stops and hog refineries that dot this part of the country. Far from delivery and traffic lights. Deep in an unincorporated village, in an unincorporated area. Its remoteness would make one wonder how a foreign ex-soldier found such a location, but again. This is Simon. Ages ago, you learned questions earn neither his favor nor answer.

The property is impressive for its locale. Two bedrooms. A decent kitchen. Heating and cooling. A garage and a shed. Renovated within the last decade and upgraded piecemeal when Simon has time. It sits on a lake shared by only two other cabins, both residing around a reedy bend and well out of sight.

Upon arrival, Simon doesn’t offer a tour, telling you to poke around as he unpacks the car. Well, a jerk of his head and a gruff, “Go on in.” Since you started seeing each other officially, he doesn’t often let you burden yourself with chores. No lifting a finger if he’s available.

The place is sparse. Occupied but not lived in. While stocking a cupboard, Simon explains the previous owner, an older gentleman with cheap taste, left behind what decoration remains. A few tacky fishing signs hang on the walls, intermixed with sun-bleached squares on the wood paneling. A curio box collection of novelty keychains in the hall to the bedrooms, full of states and a couple of names. The lumpy pillows on the sofa pouf tobacco-scented dust when you test its cushions.

Tiptoeing into the main bedroom, you imagine how you might spruce up the austere space. Considering he moved into your apartment after three months, you assume it’s a matter of time until this becomes your cabin, too.

(It was incredibly romantic—the move. Near sunset, Simon appeared like a specter in the pouring rain, with his few worldly belongings in tow. Kissed you hard and fast, told you he couldn’t stay at his place anymore. That he needed you. You. All your effort paid off.)

The memory brings a smile to your face.

You’ll turn the cabin into a cozy love nest like your apartment. Blankets, candles, a rug or two. Though he’ll never admit it, Simon must desire comfort like anyone else. The first night he burrowed into your duvet, luxuriating in the cotton and silk, he fell asleep like an old hound freshly sprung from a shelter. He tossed most of his stuff the next day—said you had everything he needed.

Looking around, you realize you have your work cut out for you. The austere room more a cave than a refuge. The man's bed doesn't even have a frame. Just a neatly made mattress with tucked sheets and two flat pillows. A secondhand dresser and a stack of plastic drawers for extra storage. On the bright side, the adjacent bathroom is spotlessly clean, with a caddy holding melamine sponges, bleach, and other supplies on a shelf. He's always been tidy, likely a military thing.

From the living room, you're greeted with a scenic view of the lake and the adjoining deck through the glass door. A pair of wooden chairs sit side-by-side in front of a fire pit, one of Simon's old welding projects. Down the gentle slope to the shore, a small dinghy rests in the water, tied off at the aluminum dock. A smattering of yellow and white water lily pads hug the bank.

Peaceful. Picturesque. Private.

But your eyes hitch on a strange beam.

Bolted between two mature trees, a hefty piece of timber sits within plain sight of the deck. A series of evenly spaced, fixed eyelet hooks and two pulleys catch the light when the breeze shifts the canopy of the bur oak overhead.

Simon joins you on the deck, the planks creaking beneath his bulk. A cracked beer dwarfed in his hand.

“Did the former owner have kids?” You ask as he sips.

“Kids?”

You point at the curious installation. “Isn’t that for a tire swing? Seems like the perfect spot.”

Simon stares, narrowing his eyes slightly with a chuckle. The tone of it prickles—the same snide laugh he makes at his own awful jokes. When he’s in on the punchline, and you’re not. One of the few things that sour his image.

“Kids? Fuck no,” He shakes his head. “That’s where I ‘ang deer and the like out to bleed.”

You bristle and duck the arm he means to drape around your shoulders, ignoring how he huffs baby and c’mon, don’t be like that between snickers.

He finds you in the bedroom, sorting the clothes you packed with punchy aggression, fuming and embarrassed by his teasing. Stupid and naive, that’s how you feel, for all your care and commitment. You’re just so silly, such a townie, for not recognizing a piece of lumber as a barbaric vehicle for slaughter.

Two wide mitts glide over your sides as you try your best to ignore the behemoth behind you. You are by no means small, but Simon. Fuck, Simon, you whisper, half-exasperated when he nuzzles into the crook of your neck—he’s—fuck, he is big.

It’s an hour before your clothes are finally put away, and you’re already down a pair of underwear for the weekend. Simon leaves you sated and dozing, a tactile apology accepted, and retrieves you to fix supper when he’s hungry. Later, parked in the chairs in the yard, watching the end of the sun’s march to the horizon, you broach the topic again.

“Will you take it down?”

“Sweetheart, what do ya think I do on the weekends you work?”

You shiver. Ten seconds ago, you’d’ve said read or weld or fish. It’s ridiculous how your mind cannot wrap around the idea of Simon out in the woods, stalking through the trees and underbrush, hunting. Decked out in blaze orange and realtree, rifle cradled in his hands. You know his history and what he’s capable of. What he’s done.

But this is different from his military career. Simon said he didn’t want to do any of that. Enlisting was how he escaped a lousy home life; he didn’t plan to get stuck in it for as long as he did. He confessed once, after a silly tiff over your job, that the day he was discharged was the best day of his life, second only to the day you met. That’s where the disconnect lies. Hunting and killing for sport, that’s not the Simon you know.

You tell him as much.

“That so?” His smirk matches the rising moon. A waxing crescent.

You insist.

Simon cracks his neck. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal,” he starts, fingers flexing around the neck of the beer bottle. “I’ll quit, if I can bag one last trophy.”

The thought of burning the beam distracts you from the flicker in his eyes. The ugly thing is the only hiccup keeping the cabin from textbook perfection. You don’t want to think of Bambi’s poor mother dangling like some macabre ornament whenever you look outside.

“Fine. What’s the trophy?”

Simon grins.

“I better win a fucking award for this. It’s freezing.” You’d said, tugging on your sneakers.

He laughed wickedly. The sound burned right up your spine.

“You’ll get a fucking award, alright.”

Simon sent you off a half hour ago if the time on his watch’s dull, glowing face is correct. He buckled it around your wrist before you darted into the woods, tightening it as far as it would go. It spins loose around the bone anyway. He warned you to watch your footing, pressed bear mace into your palm, and then gave you five minutes to make yourself scarce. Inwardly, you preen. To go undiscovered for this long—you’ve surpassed your own expectations.

However, squatting with your back to a distressingly damp tree trunk, regret eclipses pride and buzzes under your skin. Hopefully, it's not a parasite from one of the puddles you stomped through. It's out of devotion, you tell yourself, itching under a wet sock, that you agreed to this game. Out of love. There isn't much you wouldn't do for Simon. From the moment you met him, it's been magnetic. Poetic.

And that first date? Cinematic. You went out with one man and returned home with another. Your date caught Simon staring from across the joint, a mean set of eyes in a ski mask eating you alive. What kind of man lets another steal his ‘bird’? That’s what he called you—birdie. Need some company, birdie? Complete disregard for the flop-haired man across the table. Cupped a hand to your date’s ear, said a few words, and Mike or Matt or whatever his name was vacated his seat, leaving the big Brit to take his place.

Bringing him home was a foregone conclusion, the decision finalized as you watched him, absolutely rapt, stab the meat of your entree and claim it as his own. Rolled up his balaclava just enough to take a bite with a row of crooked teeth. Breath hitching at the scars, the pale white lines stretching over his chin. You didn’t even know his name when you blurted out the question. And it’s with fondness you recall the flash of surprise in his eyes at your resolute zeal. Didn't make him work for it, offered yourself up on a silver platter.

('Course, afterward, you had to convince him not to fuck you in the parking lot, promising breakfast in the morning if he slept over. He did. For two days. He kept turning up after that.)

You may be hiding in the woods, but he's the animal. Yes. A neglected stray you dedicated the better part of a year into domesticating. Lured him with food, a warm bed, and sex. Assiduously filing down his sharp teeth and rough edges with your body. Introducing him to creature comforts, to living versus mere survival.

Which, again, prompts the question—why hunting? Didn’t you take care of him? If he needed more, all he had to do was ask. Take. Prying a burr off of a sleeve, you wonder if it's like the old saying goes: you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Maybe he needs to chase or track, and you’re another soft-handed city slicker keeping a working dog cooped up in an apartment.

If you still saw your therapist, she’d probably suggest you dissect that. But you don’t, and you’re not inclined to schedule a session. Besides, Simon said all shrinks are—

A twig snaps. It shocks you how quickly you push to your feet.

Twenty feet or so dead ahead, a hulking mass moves through a thin shaft of moonlight.

You run.

Huffing and puffing, you charge clumsily through the trees, miraculously avoiding clusters of roots and shielding your face with your hands. Feels unnatural to run from him. The blood rush in your ears drowns out the heavy thuds on the ground behind you, Simon pursuing, shirking stealth for speed.

Inevitably, he overtakes you. An iron grip latches onto your shirt, and a kick sweeps your legs. The bear mace flies from your hand into the brush, clanging off a tree. You dangle for a spine-tingling second, suspended, heart lurching into your throat. He leverages your tumbling momentum to swing you to the ground at his feet through strength alone. Landing on the cold floor of the woods expels a gasp, a second following as a boot presses between your shoulders. No force behind it; its presence alone enough to keep you down. Despite the dirt and twigs surely sticking to your front and the borderline painful thunder of your heart, you smile in relief. It’s over. His last hunt. The boot lifts.

“Nice work, big guy,” You cough, breathing hard. “Can we—Simon?”

Before you can move, Simon nudges the toe of a boot into your ribs, compelling you to roll over. You startle at the sight looming above, a strangled, incoherent string of mouth noises trickling out of shock. A pair of brown eyes peer through the orbits of a skull attached to a mask. They trail from your face to your stomach, where he takes advantage of your stupefied babbling, binding your hands with cord. You meet his gaze, heat creeping up your neck, and his eyes crinkle.

About a dozen questions surface on the return march to the cabin. None survive the swirling vortex of your head, unwilling to risk appearing perfidious.

Simon flexes his grip over your bound hands. “Gonna have some fun.”

Your faith does not lapse, though fear simmers low in your belly when he doesn’t lead you to the cabin but toward the beam. A fluorescent nylon rope now feeds through the hooks and pulleys, and an oxidized steel, wide-based triangle sways freely. Beckoning. A humiliating whimper escapes as he positions you on a circle of dead grass, hands of a hangman on your hips.

“Said you wanted a fucking award.”

A fucking award. A fucking award.

Simon reclaims his watch and then methodically changes your bindings. A hand to each vertice, he fastens you to the gambrel and kisses away a rogue tear. He tugs and tests the rope. It shouldn’t induce a flood, and yet.

“Is it—Can it hold me?”

“Birdie, this is built for stags and boars. It can hold me.” He strokes your cheek, tapping the bone with a knuckle, then breaks away. “Stay put.”

As if you have a choice.

Leaving you with the frogs and crickets, you watch Simon retreat indoors. A breeze carries a cool rush of air from the lake, your thin top a poor barrier to the slight chill. You take deep, rattling breaths to slow your heartbeat, still racing from the pursuit.

A distant click breaks the quiet, followed by a low, electrical buzz and the sudden, blinding intensity of light. It sears your vision before you can screw your eyes shut, blinking away the phosphenes with a noise of displeasure. The sensation’s almost enough to knock you off your feet. You squint, sight adjusting, and track the source to a previously unseen flood lamp affixed to the oak tree some distance away.

Simon returns shortly after you regain your bearings, his imposing silhouette accentuating his mass. Closer, he’s stripped down to a fraying and stained white t-shirt, but your eyes hone in on the rig fastened around a thick thigh. The cut of the strap guides your eye to the straining denim, and the image of his dick flashes in your mind, scorching like the flood lamp.

He extracts a knife from the sheath, steel reflecting light like a mirror. You squirm, a cross between impatient and uncomfortable. Is he cutting you down already? What was the point—

He pulls the front of your shirt, setting the knife edge to the hem.

“Simon,” your voice jumps high in your throat. “Don’t you dare.”

A steady upward glide answers the warning, cleaving the material in two open drapes. The breeze hits your sweat, the band of your bra suddenly chilled and sticking, though that doesn’t last long as he slices through it, too.

“Someone could see!” you stammer, nipples tightening in the night air.

“You’re frettin’ over nothin’, sweetheart. Nobody’s out here. Open.” Simon demands, pressing the hilt to your lips. “Good girl.” he praises when you relent to bite the compressed leather between your teeth, catching a whiff of polish. He rips off the remnants of your top and bra, dropping them to the ground in scraps. A big hand fondles and weighs a tit in its palm as if he hasn’t played with it before. There’s a deep inhale from behind the mask as he swipes a thumb beneath its mass, then a chuckle. “Work up a sweat?”

The hand with the knife carefully discards the mask, revealing smears of eyeblack, and he pops his thumb into his mouth to suck it clean. A gasp slips out when he steps closer, hand engulfing the tissue again, pushing it up to glide his nose along the underside, tongue trailing. He nips, soothing after you yelp.

You mourn your expensive leggings when he shreds them next, reducing them to ribbons—another deep breath and a throaty laugh, selfish and all too pleased.

“Knew I smelled ya in the woods.”

“You ruined–you tore them–”

“Thought you’d get lucky tonight?” Scarred knuckles drag from your ribs to your thigh, squeezing, his thumb rubbing sweet circles over old stretch marks. Your wires cross, his blatant rewrite of the afternoon makes your lips purse, but his hand, Christ, your toes curl in your sneakers. “A quick screw in the woods?” He sheathes his knife to trace a finger along the crease of your thigh.

Air whistles through your teeth in a sharp inhale. He skims, dipping to gather some of your wetness, licking his fingers clean again. He hums appreciatively. “Get off on being chased? Fuckin’ dripping, birdie.”

Your hole twitches at his teasing, and you know he must see it with the sneer he gives you alongside the abrupt plunge of two fingers. The hand on your thigh migrates to your ass, pulling you snug to the webbing.

“Simon!” A curse hisses out as he burrows his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, curling—not for your pleasure, no, but to keep you there, a crude hook. The rope strains as you squirm, impaled, and stretched too tight on his hand, clenching uncontrollably as if your cunt can’t make up its mind. A flurry of sensations meets head-on with reason, and logic’s never been your strong suit. Reduced to need and want in equal measure, a single twist of his fingers confirms you’re as desperate as the night you met him.

You don’t notice his other hand abandoning your backside for the rope. What squeaks first, you or the pulleys? It’s sudden, the way you slide off his fingers with a lewd pop, feet leaving the ground. He hoists you up and up, the movement practiced, tying you off like the boat secured around a cleat hook.

Some feet off the ground, naked and shivering in the dark, exposed—you should feel fear, but the other shoe, instinct or intuition, doesn’t drop. All the vulnerability does instead is send a white-hot pulse to your clit. A plea leaves your mouth before your brain considers anything else. Pelvis tilting. He awards your eagerness with a grind of a zipper and a gratified grunt. Simon tugs his jeans and boxers down, then bends slightly to hitch your legs.

Your legs settle around him, and though he huffs when you squeeze, trying to ease the pressure off your wrists, you think he likes it. The ropes above slack little, raised higher than he’s tied you. With a massive hand back on your hip, he uses the other to feed his cock into you, bringing the line taut once more as he pulls you down.

The steady shove and fullness push a low whine from your mouth, which Simon smothers with a toothy kiss. It stings some—you’re not nearly wet enough, only quieting with the faith he’ll make it better. However, the fact that he doesn’t give you time to adjust isn’t promising.

He ruts. Barges in. Takes what he needs in full strokes. Builds a pace that rattles the hardware and your insides. The pain steadily stressing your wrists and lower back is secondary. Third, probably, to pleasure and heat, though the former isn’t building as fast as the latter. Sweat beads in your hairline and neck, collecting under your breasts and in the creases of your belly. Makes your calves slick where they press into his sides, the cotton of his shirt sticking to his and your muscles.

“Simon, I can’t–” The words eke out, abdomen and thighs burning, friction in the wrong places.

His arms flex, boots shuffling over dirt and grass to further beneath you, cock dragging along your walls at a drastic angle, head jabbing into your cervix. More support, less comfort. A bitter trade-off, exchanging one hurt for another. The pinch of his brow makes the bursting stars at the edges of your vision worth it.

Each thrust shakes you in the rope, pulleys whining in solidarity. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes across the cabin’s yard, coupling with your gasps and Simon’s ragged breaths. After a particularly harsh snap of his hips, laughter, deep and gular, trickles out of his mouth. "You feelin’ alright, sweetheart?" he drawls, voice oozing sangfroid. “Y’like your award?”

That has you shuddering. His hands settle on your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that’s sure to leave marks. “Look at you, strung up so prettily. Pretty fucking ornament.”

Bambi’s poor mother.

Simon's voice and the image of a dangling deer carcass collide, punctuated with a thrust like a battering ram. It forces another string of needy sounds. Discomfort and desire coil in your stomach, twisting into a warm mass with a life of its own. You feel every inch as he withdraws and shoves in. The heat of him, the hardness. Nylon chafes your skin, each buck a reminder of your helplessness. Restraints are nothing new, but this is—

The air leaves your lungs in one big whoosh as Simon hits a sweet spot.

You slump a bit, legs close to jelly from bracing.

Finally, an adjustment. Simon slows to meld himself further into you, and it’s then, sucking in deep breaths, you marvel at how perfectly level you are to be fucked like this. He bands a single thick arm beneath your ass in a casual display of strength, the other snaking between you. Chin to chest, he spits, the glob hitting your clit like a bullseye. You’d cringe if his thumb didn’t chase after it, spreading his saliva. The sudden break, coupled with his attention, makes you quiver. Anticipation gaining on torment. His thumb’s rhythm quickens, alleviating the aches. You’ll be sore as hell come morning, but as you have before, you’ll forgive again.

With a new, albeit haphazard, focus on your clit, he rolls his hips at a more languid pace. The shift is a knife’s edge between torture and bliss.

“Still want me to take it down? Don’t know if I will, birdie, like the idea of keepin’ you up ‘ere, ‘anging for the takin’ whenever I want ya.” A chuckle vaporizes into a hiss. “Shit, you like the sound of that?

If you could manage speech, you’d say yes. Simon’s rewired your synapses in a matter of seconds with the rough pad of a finger. He’s backlit from this angle. Haloed. Suits him, you think. What you’re feeling is rapturous, however ruthless it may be. Animalistic, really. If you let him leave the beam—this is what you’ll remember. Not some fresh-killed doe staring into nothing. But you, Simon, and the orgasm he harvests.

It creeps up on you. You howl, jerking in the ropes, muscles spasming and weeping. Revived with a burst of adrenaline, your legs try to close automatically, only to press uselessly into his sides. There’s no stopping him and nowhere to go until he’s done. Your body sags in its ties like a puppet.

Simon snarls something, and his palms return to your ass, abandoning all pretense. A haze rolls, thick as molasses, over you as he uses you to his end. He goes silent the few seconds before he comes, breathing harshly through his nose. One last snap of his hips, a deep grunt, and his cock floods your pussy. His chest heaves. Breaths heavy and stunted. Burrowing into your chest, he digs his nose into your sternum and rasps his teeth over your frantic heartbeat.

Your eyes droop along with the rest of your person. Everything disappears under a tenebrous wave.

Movement. The grind of the pulleys. The sawing of a knife. A sliver of lucidity buoys you, a headrush from popping to the surface after drowning. Your head throbs, the world spins, and by the time you make sense of it, you hear the familiar creak of the cabin steps.

Simon lays you out on the lumpy mattress, brushing his fingers over your hair and skin. He disappears, and you float in and out of consciousness. Thoroughly fucked.

You briefly wake when he tucks you in. The crux of your legs is damp, and a faint medicinal smell emanates under the blanket. Layers of gauze over aloe wrap your wrists where they lay beside your head on a flat pillow, and you wiggle your fingers experimentally.

“Sleep.” He says, poking your forehead.

Your throat hurts. “Stay.”

The bed dips when he obliges. He molds to your back, smushing your chest with an arm and cupping a tit. His breath fans over the shell over your ear, and when you’re on the edge of sleep, he murmurs something, but the words run together.

Somehow, he falls asleep before you. Sated. Ran out. You take care of him, and he takes.

An emaciated tick floats with its legs curled in on itself in a glass on the floor next to the bed. You stare at it for too long, then roll over.

Simon’s awake, though his eyes remain closed and body still. You wince, thighs rubbing together and interlacing your limbs over his. His lip twitches, but he doesn’t shove you off.

You trace a scar jutting across the meat of a shoulder and stare at his chest, pock-marked like besieged castle walls. Months ago, you asked about the stories behind the wounds. The question went unanswered, and it earned you a week of getting fucked face-down. So you simply drop a kiss to a crater on his pec and then his chin.

“You broken?” He mutters.

“No.”

“Then fix us some breakfast.”

It’s Herculean with how your flanks and thighs protest, but you hum through the kitchen and diligently rustle up the meal. Visions of a life dance through your head. An ivory lace curtain will suit the window over the sink. The smoke-damaged, yellowing cabinets need scrubbing. There’s hair stuck in the hoarfrost of the freezer, which makes you gag. Leftovers from one of Simon’s hunts.

No sooner than you plate the bacon does Simon emerge. No need to call. He’s trained.

The cell reception is terrible, one of the features that sold him on the property. Calls drop sporadically, and texts scrape by at the shed. His phone vibrates when he sets foot over the threshold—messages from his pet, all sent within a few hours. Poor thing’s bored at work. He wouldn’t know the feeling. His morning’s been productive. Enjoyable.

Simon’s lip curls, and he leans the fishing rod against the shed door. Sliding his phone into a pocket, he turns back to fetch the tackle box. He lumbers past the wriggling cunt strung up on the newly installed gambrel, the plastic crinkling underfoot. The steady drip of blood is barely audible over their whiny throes. Probably hurts. Hooks through the Achilles tendons will do that, but they’ll go quiet soon enough. If he times it right, they’ll be done when he returns for supper.

He nearly pricks his thumb, spearing the worm onto the hook. Watches it writhe. He huffs a laugh and spares a glance back at the cabin. The two trees that once held the beam. It’s a loss to no longer watch game struggle from the comfort of the deck. He surprised himself with how he complied with his girl’s request. She earned it, he supposed. Cried and begged and bled for it. Usually, that sort of response draws his knife, not his interest. But she’s an odd one. Different. A rare beast.

He casts the line.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She’d asked all those months ago, less than a minute after he threatened to hang her date by the balls. Blunt and to the point. Refreshing. He was unaccustomed to finding them so willing, but she fucking imprinted on him like a wobbly-kneed fawn. Nosed his open, reaching hand like a stray, hungry pup. She saw him for what he was—the bigger, meaner predator. Top of the food chain. Thinks some part of her knew she was better off bowing her head and licking his cock than running. She stuck her neck out, took him home, and gave him her pussy without a fuss.

It’s cute, the way she thinks she’s made him agreeable. How she works on him and his hygiene and manners. Doesn’t get that if it were up to him, he’d sleep on the floor, in the dirt, used to a lifetime of bunking down in shitholes. The cabin’s simply suitable for his hobbies. The fact it’s a decent vivarium for the sweet girl is a bonus, a place to keep her nice and soft so long as she’s good. ‘Course, the sight of her hanging by her hands made the idea of introducing her insides to the outside cross his mind, but he won’t cut her down just yet. Not when he’s got her leashed.

Hours later, the cooler packed with largemouth bass and walleye, he unpacks the dinghy and trudges toward the shed. It’s silent, save for the insects and the birds.

The nosy prick from the bait shop sways, unmoving. Coated with his own fluids and dripping. He chuckles. He should call her.

#ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #mind the tags #posting and skittering off

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months

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Where to Run

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @deansobssessedgirl

Synopsis: you’re on the run from the British Men of Letters, and you meet your big brothers for the first time.

Entering the United States unnoticed had gone better than you thought it would. As soon as you got through passport control, you dug into your backpack—the only luggage you had brought with you, and it contained all you owned—and pulled out two pieces of paper. You considered them both for a long moment—one, an over a decade-old letter with the name of a small city in black ink in the middle of it, and the other a list of cities, one circled in red.

The list would take you to a nearby Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, and the letter…

The letter might just lead you to your father.

…

“And you’re sure we haven’t already been to this one?” Sam asked his big brother as they pulled up to a storage facility.

“Of course I’m sure. I would’ve remembered one so close to Lawrence,” Dean said.

“What do you think dad kept in here?” Sam questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him as Dean led the way to the right storage room.

“Who knows?” Dean shrugged. “Let’s just hope one of these works.” He jangled a small set of keys on a ring that John had left in the car—they contained a spare key for the Impala as well as John’s old truck, and several storage facility keys. Dean had thought that he and Sammy had been to all of John’s secret storage places, but after scanning John’s journal for the hundredth time, he caught sight of an address scratched in the corner of a page with a storage number.

“It’s this one,” Sam spoke up, grabbing the keys from Dean and trying a few before one finally worked.

The room was small, but packed full. Sam and Dean—after carefully scanning for traps—split up and began to go through their father’s things.

“Hey, I think this file cabinet’s locked,” Sam said from one corner. Dean lifted his head, but didn’t go to his brother’s aid, too busy going through a box of odds and ends.

“Or you just didn’t pull hard enough—maybe if you had any muscle in those noodles—“

“Ok, ok,” Sam interrupted with a scoff. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t dismiss Dean’s theory—he yanked hard on the file cabinet, and it jerked open in a cloud of dust. Coughing, Sam reached down to shuffle through what was inside. “Hey, there’s only one file in here.”

“Fascinating,” Dean said in a tone that said exactly the opposite.

“There’s a birth certificate inside,” Sam said, and suddenly his voice caught. “With…with dad’s name on it.”

“Dad’s birth certificate?” Dean asked, mildly intrigued.

“Dean…not dad’s.”

“What?” Dean was by Sam’s side before Sam had even seen him move.

“Y/N Winchester, born to John Winchester and…Jane Doe.” Sam frowned, his brow crinkling. “I wonder why dad would use his real name when the mother used a fake.”

“This can’t be real,” Dean insisted. “I mean…I know with Adam…but another one?”

“Let’s see,” Sam mumbled, putting the certificate inside and checking the rest of the file. “Pictures.” Sam held up a stack, which Dean immediately snatched from him. Sam ignored this, because he’d found his own details to focus on. “And letters.” Sam grabbed the first letter from a stack of dozens, and began to read. “Dear John…our girl turns one today…”

Dean tapped Sam’s shoulder and held up a photo of a little Y/H/C girl blowing out a singular candle on a pink cake.

Sam moved onto the next letter, skimming it.

“Dear John…I put Y/N in gymnastics because it’s the only way I can get her to work on strength training and endurance.” Sam’s brow crinkled in confusion, but he was distracted when Dean held up a photo of the same girl, a few years older, in a gymnastics leotard on a balance beam.

“What do you think she meant by training?” Sam asked. “Do you think she was a hunter?”

“Could be.” Dean shrugged. “Maybe that’s why she signed her letters Jane Doe.” Dean pointed to the bottom of the letter, where “love, Jane Doe” was written.

Sam was about to pull out another letter when his fingers froze on the paper.

“Dean…”

“Hm?” Dean asked distractedly, still going through photos.

“Dean look at this.” Sam flipped the paper around, and on the back of it was a watermark—an indicator of who made the stationary.

It was the Men of Letters insignia.

…

“Lebanon, please,” you said to the taxi driver. “I’ll direct you to a more specific location when we get there.”

The man shrugged, unbothered, and began the journey.

You desperately wanted to go to Lawrence in search for your father, but you had to be realistic—you hadn’t eaten all day, you were jet lagged and exhausted, and you needed a plan of action. You needed to recover and regroup, and you needed to do it in a secure location; you needed to feel safe. In fact, you were so wound up that you flinched when the radio came on.

“—o one seems to have any information on who is causing the recent string of murders. The chief of police has offered no comment, other than a warning that the people of Lawrence should stay indoors when possible, and be alert. But there’s no denying the oddity of the case—the mass murderer seems to have some kind of vampire ideologies, with each of its victims drained completely of their blood. In other news—“

“Hey, driver!” You called out, and he glanced over his shoulder to indicate he was listening. “I changed my mind. Take me to Lawrence.”

…

“It’s gotta be another djinn.”

Dean would’ve groaned if he didn’t have a mouthful of hamburger to swallow first.

“Not those again,” he said after a gulp of beer washed down the last of his burger. They’d finished going through John’s things—Sam taking the file of your pictures and documents with him—only to leave and stumble upon a case. Dean had wanted to stop at a diner on the way back home, but he hadn’t expected to walk past a news stand to see a paper with “vampire killer” written across the front. It took Sam less than ten minutes of reading the paper, as well as a little time on the internet, to render the paper completely wrong.

“It doesn’t fit with a vampire. No teeth marks, no signs of struggle, the bodies were found in a different location from where they were taken—it’s definitely a djinn.”

“Ok, so silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood.” Dean sighed. “We happen to have one of those?”

“I think we still have the one we used last time in the trunk,” Sam said.

“Then let’s get going.”

…

You picked up a machete after being dropped off by the cabbie, hoping beyond hope that the radio had been right (even if they were kidding) about it being a vampire—there were several monsters known to drink blood, and if it was anything other than a vamp then things might get tricky. Normally you would be more prepared, but it wasn’t like you could get your weapons through customs when traveling to America, and you’d had to travel light so you could move more quickly. The British Men of Letters worked quickly, so you couldn’t take any chances. And buying up strange kinds of weapons near an old Men of Letters bunker was definitely too high a chance to take, so all you could do was hope that it was a vamp.

You’d done so much research about Lawrence that you barely even have to wonder where the creature might be hiding out—while researching Lawrence, you’d almost automatically noted the places where a supernatural being might be inclined to hide, so all you had to do was see which one was closest to the bodies that were dropping.

Then you were ready to hunt.

…

“I’m telling you, this has to be it. It’s nearly equidistant to all the bodies, and it’s the perfect place for a djinn to hide out.”

“You don’t have to sell me on the location, I believe you,” Dean told Sam. “But you do have to tell me how to get there.”

“Turn right here…yeah, and a left at that stop sign, and then we’re there.”

“So are we just not gonna talk about it?” Dean asked after a beat of silence as he followed Sam’s directions.

“Talk about what?”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe our little sister?”

“I don’t know what to say, Dean,” Sam sighed. “There’s no address anywhere in the documents or the letters, and we don’t even know her mother’s name, or if Y/N even goes by Winchester. Her mother used an alias, it makes sense that the kid would go by one, too. We have no reason to believe that she’s going by the name on her birth certificate, so we don’t have the first clue on how to find her.”

“Well it feels like we have to do something,” Dean argued. “I mean we don’t even know if this kid knows about dad—for all we know, she thinks he’s still alive. She deserves to know.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Sam questioned. “You didn’t seem all this interested when we found out about Adam.”

“That was different,” Dean sighed. “With Adam…Adam was just some normal, innocent kid who saw dad once a year for a baseball game and knew nothing about the life. This kid—Y/N—with the talk in those letters about training, and the Men of Letters insignia…she’s in this life, Sam, I can feel it. And since dad’s not around anymore…I think it’s our job to make sure she’s ok.”

“And I’d be happy to do that,” Sam insisted. “If only we knew how to find her. But for now, let’s do what we can do—take out this djinn.”

…

The sight of a car in the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse worried you—even if it was a beautiful car.

“Chevy Impala,” you mumbled to yourself. “67, I think.” You shook yourself, moving your mind back to the task at hand, rather than the conversation you were having with yourself. Hopefully the car here didn’t mean that its owners were anywhere near the warehouse—the last thing you needed was some innocent people getting in the way and getting hurt.

Seeing no one around, you hefted your machete and headed inside.

…

Dean gestured at Sam to be quiet as he peaked around a corner. Signaling that the coast was clear, Dean led the way through the warehouse, the silver dagger gripped in his steady hand. Dean was just signaling Sam to wait so he could check around another corner when—

“Hey!”

“Jeez—what?”

Dean stopped himself just short of cutting not a djinn, but a Y/H/C girl wielding a machete that was aimed at him.

“Hey, easy.” Dean took a quick step back, raising the knife and his hands in the air. “We’re not—“ Dean’s words died in his throat when he got a good look at your face.

“Dean,” Sam breather from beside him. “It’s—“

“No kidding.”

“What are you talking about?” You demanded, lowering the machete just a little bit. “Who are you guys, what are you doing here?” You didn’t want for an answer. “You have to get out of here, there’s a—“ your eyes fell to the silver dagger.

Sam’s gaze followed your own to the weapon in Dean’s hand before he looked back at you.

“It’s not a vamp,” he said, gesturing at your machete. “It’s a djinn.”

You lowered your machete completely.

“You’re hunters?”

Dean couldn’t keep the astonished smile off his face.

“And you’re Y/N Winchester.”

The machete was back up in an instant.

“Who are you?” You demanded for the second time. “Men of Letters?”

“Easy, easy,” Dean said, taking a step back as you advanced on them. “I’m not—“

“Guys!”

Sam’s warning proceeded the arrival of the djinn by a split second—just enough time for Dean to dodge the blow that the djinn tried to land on him.

“Hey!” Your call turned the attention of the djinn, who grabbed hold of your arm before you had the chance to move away. He twisted your arm behind your back until your machete was crashing to the ground and you were crying out in pain.

“Here!” Dean’s call came a second before the silver dagger was hurtling at your face. You snatched it up with your free hand and twisted it so it was facing the djinn a moment before you plunged the dagger into the djinn’s side. He howled with pain and released your arm, giving you an opportunity to spin around and stab again, this time in the neck.

The djinn went down without a sound, and the thud of his fall echoed through the empty room. For a long moment, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard. That is, until Dean took a step towards you.

“Back off!” You yelled, raising the blood-soaked dagger.

“Are you serious?” Dean scoffed. “Hey, I just helped save your life.”

“I’m not going back!” You were starting to look panicked as you backed away from the brothers. “So-so just tell Lady Bevell, or Ketch, or Mick, or whoever recruited you that I’m done! I’m not a part of the Men of Letters, and I never will be!”

“Hey, hey, easy,” Sam soothed. “We’re not Men of Letters.”

“Then how do you know who I am?” You challenged.

“Because of John Winchester.”

Sam’s response froze you in your tracks.

“J…John Winchester?” The dagger was slowly lowering. “You know him? You know where he is?”

The hope in your eyes was like a punch in the gut to both brothers. However, it was gone in an instant and replaced with a harsh suspicion as you raised the knife higher again.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“That’s how we know who you are, kid,” Dean insisted.

“Here—“ Sam’s hand was halfway to his pocket when you pointed your knife at him and he froze. “Easy, ok? I’ll go slow.” He slowly reached in, and you relaxed slightly when he pulled out a small bundle of papers. “We’ve got letters that your mom sent to him, with some pictures.” Sam held them out, and you hesitantly took them, thumbing through the stack while occasionally glancing warily at the boys.

“They stop,” you mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked.

“The letters, they stopped…at least ten years ago.” You looked back up at the boys as you spoke. “Is…is there more, or…”

The despair on the boys’ faces spoke for itself. Your lip was already quivering as you tucked the letters away, still holding onto the knife but keeping it pointed down.

“Is he…is he dead?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “About ten years ago.”

Sam could tell you were trying not to cry, trying to act like they hadn’t just ripped the rug out from under you.

“You know, I—I didn’t even know him—“ your voice cracked. “But I…gosh, I re-I really wanted to.”

You let Dean take the knife from you after he put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Um, so.” You wiped your hand over your face, trying to brush away any stray tears as you tried valiantly to pull yourself together. “So how did you two…”

“He’s…he’s our dad, too.” Sam said. Your eyes widened slightly as you absorbed this information.

“Wait, you…were you…from his wife?”

“You knew about her?” Dean asked.

“Not really,” you admitted. “John…dad, he…he never liked to talk about his past, but he did mention his wife in one of his letters…he said her death was what made him become a hunter.” Your lips quirked up as you remembered. “He said if I ever saw a yellow-eyed demon, send it to hell for him.” Your eyes went back to Dean and Sam. “Is…is that how he died? Hunting demons?”

“Kind of,” Sam said. “It’s…it’s a long story.”

“What about you?” Dean said suddenly. “If you know Lady Bevell and the rest, and you know they’re here recruiting, then you’ve got something to do with the Men of Letters. Not to mention their insignia on the back of those letters.”

Just the mention of the Men of Letters had you on edge again.

“Maybe we should talk about this at a more secure location,” you suggested. “There’s an old Men of Letters bunker not far from—“ you cut yourself off when you caught the look between the two brothers. “What?”

“We know,” Sam said. “We’ve been living in it.”

Dean noticed your fingers twitch, as if you were thinking about reaching for a weapon.

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re not Men of Letters?”

“Our grandfather was one,” Dean said. “He left us a key.”

You seemed to consider this. Dean watched as your eyes got a faraway look, and he knew you were trying to remember something.

“Mom said that John was from a line of the Men of Letters. It was one of the ways she tried to get him to join.” You shook yourself of the memories. “Fine. I’ll go with you, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Dean couldn’t help the way a smile twitched just slightly on his lips before he dropped it.

“Fair enough.”

…

You were quiet the whole way to the bunker, and although your brothers had questions they sensed you were tired and on edge, so they refrained. Dean kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror the whole way, and he was happy to see the way you slowly put your guard down—mostly out of exhaustion—as you relaxed into a light slumber.

You awoke with a start when Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage, the echo of Baby’s engine reverberating loudly.

“Home sweet home,” Dean crowed as you stepped out of the Impala. You didn’t say a word as he led you inside, but the moment the three of you settled down around the kitchen table, you finally started to talk.

“John met my mother on a hunt. She was just visiting America, vacation or something, but she happened to stumble on a case. They met…and well, I came along.” Both brothers noticed you skipping over the details, for which they were grateful. “But while mom was still pregnant she tried to convince dad to join the Men of Letters.” Sam noticed the way you kept switching between dad and John, as if you either weren’t sure what to say, or you weren’t sure what the boys were comfortable with. “He didn’t like the idea, and he didn’t want that for me, either. They fought about it, and mom left the country to go back to England. She was still pregnant…” Dean saw your fists clench and unclench as you blinked rapidly. “Dad, he…he never saw me in person. Any-anyway, she still wrote to him, and she let me read his letters. She said he deserved that much, at least. Dad was always telling me hunter things—I think he was hoping I’d end up a hunter, like him.”

“Why did you?” Sam spoke up. “I mean, if your mother raised you with the Men of Letters…”

“She kept a lot from me,” you said. “The…morally ambiguous parts.” At Dean’s strange look, you scoffed. “Ok, let’s be real, the straight up evil parts.” This got a grin from both brothers. “But she, uh…” the lightheartedness in the room was gone in an instant. “She died last year, and well…people stopped lying to me. I realized all the crap they really did, and I ran.”

“And what, they’re after you?” Dean questioned. “I mean it’s not like the mafia, right, I mean you can just leave.”

You nearly laughed out loud.

“I wish they were as sloppy as the mafia. No, you can’t just leave, especially not me—just because I’m a kid, doesn’t mean I couldn’t have over a decade of Men of Letters’ secrets stored in my brain. That’s why I came here, I…I wanted to find dad. To find family, protection.” You took a deep breath. “I want to be a hunter, not a Man of Letters.”

Dean found himself speaking before he even thought about what to say.

“Why do you have to be either?”

“What?” You said at the same time as Sam. Dean glanced between you before continuing.

“You’re just a kid—you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t have to be either, you could be whatever you want.”

You blinked up at Dean, as though the thought had never occurred to you.

“I…I don’t…”

“Look,” Dean began. “Don’t decide just now. John may not be here, but we’re family too, kid. There’s an empty bedroom down the hall, you should get some sleep, get settled in…then maybe we could talk about this hunting stuff, ok? The important thing is, you’re safe here. Let’s just say we don’t like the British Men of Letters anymore than you do. They’re not getting in here, and they’re not getting to you. Everything else can wait for later.”

You felt a smile—a true smile—etching its way into your face for the first time in so long. You looked up at this man—your big brother—and you couldn’t help but feel that everything was going to be ok. Whether you decided to hunt or not, or whether the Men of Letters came after you, you knew one thing for sure—

You really had found your family.

Taglist:

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#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x little sister #sam winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader

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somethinginthewayiam · 1 month

Text

The girl behind the bar (Part 6)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: body shaming, angst, hurtful language

words: 2.5k

Summary: After your kiss with Jake, you're nervous for the next time you would see him. When he came to the bar with some guys you've never seen before, things have changed between the two of you, but not the way you wanted them to...

a/n: This was hard to write. I don't know what else to say here other than I'm sorry!

Link to my masterlist

You had been nervous all day. From when you woke up in the morning, making yourself lunch at noon, going grocery shopping and getting ready for your shift.

It was the day after your kiss with Jake and the thought alone of possibly seeing him again tonight at the bar had you in a chokehold. Would it be different between the two of you? It had to be, right? But in what way?

You felt your hands getting sweaty again and quickly wiped them on your pants before you entered your workplace. It was an hour until the bar would open and you decided that work would be the best distraction.

You placed your belongings in Penny’s office like every day and got over to the storage room to grab a case of beer to restock the bar.

As you walked out of the little hallway and into the main bar room, you looked out of the big windows. The weather outside was sunny and warm, no indication of the storm that had raged outside and consequently trapped you and Hangman in here last night.

But inside, the candles on the bar counter and empty bottles of beer told you another story. The sight of last night’s remains stopped you in your tracks for a moment.

You carried the case of beer behind the bar and quickly put away the candles in a cabinet beneath the counter. Then you grabbed the empty bottles of beer and put them in the recycling bin. As you looked up, your eyes caught the sight of the table where Jake had put you on top of as you both had kissed.

The fact that you hadn’t given, him lifting you, a second thought was proof of how good the kiss actually was. Your fingers went up to touch your lips as they were tingling at the thought.

“Hello, darling”, Jimmy said as he entered the bar. “Hey Jimmy”, you said startled and quickly got back to tidying up. “Got home okay last night?”, you asked him as you wiped down the counter. “Sure did”, he told you. “I recon you two got home good as well?”, he asked and had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Who two?”, Penny suddenly entered the bar as well. “Last night, I found Hangman and our Y/N here when I came by. Felt like I interrupted something”, he told her straight away with a wink.

“Jimmy!”, you called out surprised. “He didn’t interrupt anything. We were just here to check on the place like you asked”, you told your boss, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“I remember, I asked you to check on the place”, Penny crossed her arms and leaned against the bar counter with an amused smile. “Where did Jake come from?”, she added.

“He, uhm, he just happened to be at the diner I was at when you, uhm, you called me and he offered to drive me here”, you stammered your way through the sentence and rubbed your forehead. “Oh my, Y/N, don’t tell me you fell for a naval aviator?”, Jimmy joked and put his hands on his hips with a laugh as he watched you squirming in your spot.

“And Hangman of all people”, Penny said and looked at you with a little bit of concern.

“No, it’s not…we’re not…I’m…Hey, what is happening here?”, you asked confused and looked between Penny and Jimmy. “We’re just looking out for you, darling”, Jimmy said. “Yes, we just want you to be careful with him”, Penny added and it felt like you were talking to your parents all of a sudden.

“Nothing happened between me and Jake”, you told them. Apart from an amazing kiss and longing looks on your part before you got out of his car.

Jimmy and Penny kept looking at you with concern and almost a hint of pitty. “Stop it, you two!”, you called out and walked out from behind the bar. “I’m doing inventory”, you announced as you walked over to the door leading to the little hallway. “But we weren’t even open yesterday”, Penny replied and you could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m double-checking”, you countered and pushed the door open with your hands and a bright red face.

Jake and the others didn’t come in that night and you thought that Penny and Jimmy have had enough fun on your expense. But when Jake and some guys you hadn’t seen before, apart from Coyote, all in their khaki uniforms, came to the bar the following night, you could feel Penny’s and Jimmy’s eyes practically burning a hole in the back of your head.

When Jake entered the bar, you could feel his presence almost immediately, even though you were in the middle of taking orders. As you looked up, you saw him looking over the crowd of the bar, your eyes meeting for a mere second. And then him and his friends just walked straight over to the pool table, settling down in their corner.

You felt your heart beating a little faster now knowing that he was in your vicinity. It didn’t take long for Coyote to come over to the bar, ordering 4 beers for the little group. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Jake didn’t come over to the bar himself, just to say hello.

You made small talk with Coyote as you opened the bottles and handed him his order.

You kept looking over to the pool table while you worked, ignoring the glances of Jimmy and Penny, who were also both working behind the counter as it was a busy night. At least, your two favorite regulars, Bert and Ping Pong, were in tonight, so you had two friendly faces in the crowd, taking your mind off of Hangman from time to time.

A little while later, you caught Coyote’s look and he motioned for another round. This was it, your chance to go over there in a natural way, deliver their order and maybe strike up a conversation with Jake.

You weaved your way through the crowd, balancing the four beers on your trey. “Here are you drinks, gentlemen”, you announced as you arrived at the pool table. “Thanks, Y/N”, Coyote said, the other two nodding at you as you handed them their drinks.

“Here’s your beer, Hangman”, you said as you held out his drink to him. Your heart started to beat a little faster. You smiled at him, expecting some kind of special interaction like a genuine smile, the exchange of a few words or at least a decent hello. But he barely looked at you when he grabbed his beer from your hand, seemingly trying his best not to touch your fingers.

He went straight back to the game of pool he was playing with the guys. You waited for a few seconds but no one said something, Jake didn’t even look at you.

When it got too awkward for you, you decided that you had embarrassed yourself enough and walked over to a different table, taking orders. You wished the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. So much for a reality check.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like he didn’t know you at all, didn’t even speak to you. Even when you two practically hated each other, you exchanged some banter or at least some vulgarities. But now he didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”, Penny asked and pulled you out of your thoughts. You were preparing drinks in autopilot-mode. “Yeah, I’m fine”, you said in a stone-cold tone. “Uh-oh”, Penny commented. “What happened?”, she added. “Nothing”, you replied. And that was the problem.

“You want to talk about it?”, she asked you and you shivered from the pitiful tone her voice was laced with. “No”, you answered.

“Who’s next?”, you quickly asked the customers in front of you before Penny could ask another question.

Later that night, you were clearing a table close to the pool table. Jake and his friends were still playing, not seeing you. You overheard Coyote talking to Jake about a girl that was seemingly flirting with him and he didn’t seem to care while you collected glasses off the empty table. The new guy joked that he probably didn’t want to make you mad as his source of drinks.

“What do you mean?”, Coyote asked instead of Jake. “The bartender clearly has a crush on Hangman. Looking over all the time, always needing to know where her Hangman is”, the guy rambled on, making sweet eyes at Hangman, clearly mocking you as he laughed.

Were you really looking over that often? Probably, but you didn’t think anyone had noticed. Jake certainly didn’t. But that guy didn’t know what had happened between Jake and you. But Jake did.

“Y/N?”, Jake asked while planning his next shot, almost sounding like he had never heard your name before. “Yeah, she likes you”, Coyote confirmed and from where you stood, you could see him wiggle his eyebrows at Hangman. “Everybody likes me, I’m fucking awesome”, Jake said and bent down to take a shot. You rolled your eyes in your little hiding spot. You knew you should just leave, but you couldn’t move.

“She certainly makes a big impression”, the guy said and the way he emphasized on the word big made you swallow hard. “She can be glad if you even look her way, man. Shit, she’s lucky if anyone looks her way”, the guy continued. Jake came around the pool table, thinking about his next shot. Unknowingly, he was standing pretty much in front of you, his back turned your way, only a person standing between the two of you that was scrolling on their phone.

“I don’t know what she’s hoping for. It’s not like he’s gonna hook up with her”, the guy contemplated out loud. “No way! Seresin doesn’t do fatties”, the other guy said with a chuckle. His comment felt like a punch to the gut. You started to feel sick but you still couldn’t manage to walk away.

“She’s just the girl behind the bar, nothing more”, Hangman finally said something, but not in the way you had hoped. “Not my type”, he said dryly as he bent down to take his next shot. And another punch to the gut.

His eyes watched the targeted ball falling into the desired pocket hole. “But she’s cute when she tries”, Jake added with a cocky chuckle as he stood up again, looking at the table in front of him. That’s how he didn’t notice the person standing between the two of you walking away and you had clear view of his back.

Coyote, who was standing across from Hangman noticed you and the smile dropped from his face. “Hangman”, he fake-coughed and nodded in your direction. Jake turned around and as soon as he saw you standing there, his smile dropped from his face. It was clear from the expression on your face that you had heard every word that had been spoken between the four guys. You felt the tears rushing to your eyes, starting to restrict your view.

You stood there with the full trey in your hands and didn’t know what to do or say. Jake’s mouth opened and then closed again.

Like someone had snapped you back to reality, you turned around and walked back to the bar counter as fast as the trey full of glasses in your hands allowed you. Just as you put them down in the spot for the dirty dishes, Jake arrived at the counter.

“Y/N, hey, come on”, he said and rested his hands on the bar top, supporting his weight. “Oh, so you can talk to me”, you threw at him as you turned around and looked at him. “We’re just talking between men, a little ego talk, don’t make such a big deal out of it”, he told you. He really had the nerve to not only not apologize to you about what had happened, he even tried to make you feel bad about your reaction. The gutting feeling you had experienced before turned into anger.

Penny was just about to hand Ping Pong his drink, when you snatched it out of her hand and threw the liquid into Jake’s face.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t leave a big dent in your ego just now. You know, because of my big impression”, you said in a mocking tone. You slammed the glass down on the bar and loosened the knot on your apron, ripping it off your hips. “I’m taking my ten”, you announced towards Penny, who was standing next to you, watching the scene that had just unfolded in front of her. “You can take that out of my paycheck”, you told her before you made your way towards the storage room. “I’m sure he deserved it”, you heard her say before you walked around the counter.

“Y/N”, Jake called out once again. “God, what’s her problem?”, he huffed out, talking to himself out loud. He grabbed some napkins that were placed on the counter and wiped his face dry. “I think I’m looking at it”, Penny said and gave Hangman a stern look.

“She’s just overreacting”, Jake said as he looked at the door you had just left through. “In all the weeks I’ve come to known Y/N I know one thing for certain. She’s not someone to overreact”, Penny lectured him while preparing Ping Pong a new drink. “She is…”, Jake started but got interrupted.

“You better choose your next words very carefully, son”, Ping Pong warned Hangman. “From one naval aviator to the other, this is the moment where you punch out ‘cause your jet’s taking a dive”, Bert added and took a sip of his drink.

Hangman looked at the two retired aviators irritated as he didn’t know about your connection to these men.

“Hangman!”, Coyote shouted from the pool table. Hangman wanted to say something but then he just shook his head, turned around and walked back over to his friends.

Penny looked over to the door to the little hallway, contemplating if she should go after you but you made it clear that you needed a moment alone and it was still too busy to leave Jimmy alone behind the bar.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Hangman and his friends leave. Not a minute later, you came back out, putting your apron on as you walked over and grabbed a trey off the counter without saying a word.

Penny and Jimmy exchanged a concerned look but didn’t say anything about Hangman or the drink throw for the rest of the night. Ping Pong and Bert left an extra big tip for you before they left.

Next chapter: Part 7

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x plus-size reader #the girl behind the bar #glen powell #glen powell fanfiction #glen powell imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin imagine #topgun maverick #topgun maverick fanfiction

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1d1195 · 2 months

Text

Most IV

Read Most here | ~ 5.9k words

From me: I wanted this part to be longer but I think you'll like the next part the most.

Warnings: not really anything special about this part. You are going to hear from Lauren again though, lol

Summary: Harry is desperately trying not to scare her away. She is wondering if this was a terrible idea.

The boys were in the living room putting together a bookshelf and a coffee table that she had to buy since the ones in her apartment at school belonged to Addie. It still left no room for anyone to sit but true to their word, they didn’t need it. They sat around chatting and catching up. Making each other laugh. Harry sat beside her and she could feel his gaze on her every time she shifted. Like she was going to disappear.

When all the pizza was gone, the girls had brought empty boxes to the kitchen but again, she didn’t even have a trash can to throw stuff away. “I don’t think I can live three weeks without some stuff,” she admitted wrinkling her nose. The package of water bottles that the boys picked up with the new pizza was already significantly depleted and the empty bottles they had all drank were lining her counter. The boys were going to need trash bags to put the empty boxes and pieces of Styrofoam somewhere too.

She also thought about how she had packed most of her clothing away in the storage pod as well. Underwear was definitely a necessity.

“A good old fashioned shopping trip would do us some good!” Eleanor proclaimed seeing her friend’s frustration grow. Immediately she ushered her towards the door. She glanced back as she grabbed her purse off the counter just in time to see Harry’s head perk up as he looked at her.

It killed her to see the anxiety on Harry’s face as if she was going to disappear again when she walked out that door. She didn’t just ruin the trust between them, she murdered it. “Um...” she swallowed digging in her purse and gently moving away from Eleanor’s hand. “I don’t have any room in my car anyway,” she shrugged and placed her set of keys on the counter. A quiet assurance she would be back. The relief on Harry’s face was almost as painful to see as his anxiety. Both of those sad emotions on his gorgeous face were entirely her fault. “Do you mind driving, Sarah?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “El, can you help me move some stuff in the car so there’s room for three of us?”

She figured there was nothing in her car that required two people to move it. But the girls headed out while Mitch and Louis focused intently on the shelf. Niall nudged Harry silently reading the next set of directions on installing the lifting mechanism for the coffee table. Harry got up from the floor and approached her the way a person would approach a deer in the middle of a hike. Terrified that the poor thing would skitter away at the slightest movement. Their friends were still in earshot, and it seemed weird to have a private goodbye when they were only running to get her some necessities. “I’ll be back,” it felt horrible to reassure him of such a fact.

He nodded and forced a smile that tensed on his face a hair too much. It didn’t reach his eyes. Her stomach was in knots at the sight; she felt so horrible. “Do you need anything?” She asked.

He shook his head. “M’good, kitten. Thank you.”

Her heart continued to flutter at the word kitten. Like he didn’t know what else to call her. “Thank you for helping, I’m sure you’re exhausted after your shift, and you probably want to get home or something—”

“No,” he cut her off. “M’happy t’help and be here,” he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. It broke her heart all over again that she betrayed his trust. How was she going to make this right?

“Well, thank you,” she repeated graciously. “Really.”

He glanced back at the living room and the boys and then silently, quietly, pushed her into the hallway. With the door closed, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I don’t know how t’say this because I don’t know what the rules are. I don’t know what we’re supposed t’do or feel but I jus’ know m’really jealous of the hugs everyone else got and I know I got t’hold your hand and chat with you for a while on m’own... and I know it’s silly m’so jealous of a hug m’friends—who probably missed you in some ways jus’ as much as I did—but m’incredibly jealous and I jus—”

Her arms were around his neck. Her chest against his, even though there were two layers of clothes between them, she swore she could feel his heartbeat. They fit like puzzle pieces. Because of course they did. If it wasn’t for their words, she wasn’t sure she would know they were ever apart at all. Harry’s arms wound around her waist; he sighed so content. Buried his nose in her hair and breathing quietly beside her ear. He was holding her so close; like she might wriggle out of his arms at any moment. Being this close made her stomach flip. It felt new and familiar at the same time. His body felt so warm and strong but very much the same arms and embrace she was used to from years ago. Her face tucked into the curve of his neck; where his cologne gathered and smelled so intoxicatingly of him, she could have cried. His muscles were more defined, but he was still her Harry.

Except he wasn’t, actually. It reminded her of the final scene of a tragic romance movie where the couple should have been acknowledging how they felt about one another all along. But instead, they moved on.

So, her brain turned on again and slowly, begrudgingly, she pulled away. Slow enough that when she was able to view his face, he was looking at her like she wasn’t going to disappear again. A layer of trust had returned for which she was so grateful it ached like nothing she had felt before in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t want to keep the girls waiting too long,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he nodded and put his hand on her doorknob. “We’ll try not t’trash the place,” he smiled, that dimple making her weak all over. She didn’t even want to go shopping. Not without Harry attached to her hip. But he wasn’t hers anymore and it was her own fault.

So she quietly laughed at his joke and turned to the elevator after her friends.

Did you know you owned everything?

I was JUST thinking the same thing about you. Carter had nothing useful either. We’ve been shopping for HOURS.

She smiled at her phone while Eleanor and Sarah pushed the cart and walked through the store like they were the ones moving into a new place. Her phone rang and she was quick to pick it up. “Did you see him?” Addie asked excitedly. “Was he overwhelmed? Did he cry? Did he kiss you immediately?”

She sighed, blushing, grateful her friends were distracted so they didn’t see nor hear Addie nearly shouting her questions. “Yes, probably, no, no.”

Addie blew out an annoyed breath. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Addie,” she groaned with frustration and Eleanor glanced back briefly to see her on the phone. She smiled and then turned her attention back on the array of dishware. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what? If you remember how to kiss?”

“Jesus. Christ.”

“I’m sorry about your storage pod,” Addie tried instead. “I bet you miss your notebooks.”

There was a pang of anxiety about the fate of her notebooks on a trip across the country that she couldn’t control. If something happened to them, it might make her insane. She really should have at least scanned them onto the cloud. At least she would have something to do when she got them back before the semester started and she was alone in her apartment with her thoughts. “It’s alright,” but it reminded her to snag a notebook from the office supplies aisle as they walked by. She tossed it over the side of the cart. “Once it’s here and I’m settled, I hope you’ll come for a visit. I’m going to have this super comfy air mattress you can sleep on since my bed isn’t here either.”

Addie laughed. “Excellent.”

“I miss you,” she admitted.

“Miss you too. But this is good. Because you won’t get rid of me. I’m so proud you jumped.” Her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

With her phone back in her pocket she glanced at the items in the car that Eleanor and Sarah had selected. They had similar tastes throughout their lives, so she wasn’t worried about the aspect of overall décor and color; but her budget was a bit depleted without a job lined up and dipping into her savings this much was a little worrisome. “We’ve missed you,” Sarah said softly interrupting her thoughts before they spiraled too far. “Think you balanced out the lot of us.”

“I’m freaking out,” she admitted.

They both stopped their leisurely strolling and looked at her nervously. Because terrifyingly enough, she didn’t look like she was freaking out. So the internal side of things must have been bad and they probably had about as much fear as Harry that she might just leave again without warning. She hated that she did this and part of her thought leaving again might be best. Because why would they trust her? After all that. She left without explanation. “Why?” Eleanor asked.

Her voice broke and she sniffled. “He’s going to hate me,” she whispered.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Sarah rolled her eyes and pushed the cart forward not even bothering to entertain her worries. It wasn’t mean and part of her was glad Sarah wasn’t treating her like she was made of glass—she was treating her the way she always had. As if she had never left.

Eleanor smiled sweetly, put a hand on her back and ushered her after Sarah. “Harry will never hate you,” she promised. The relief she felt released a burst of dopamine and made the anxiety she felt disappear almost instantly.

“I hate me,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed and squeezed her hip.

“We’re so happy you’re back. I don’t know if you heard everything, but Harry wasn’t himself without you,” she explained.

Her cheeks warmed and she swallowed thickly. “It made sense in my head,” she whispered. “I swear.”

Eleanor looked at her sympathetically, a smile that was warm but full of empathy filled her pretty face and she was overcome with how much she missed her friends. If it wasn’t for Addie, there was a good chance she wouldn’t have survived the last three years. “I know. I know you wouldn’t do that without thinking it through,” Eleanor nodded encouragingly. “I just wish you had told us what you were feeling.”

“Yeah, how did you stay off social media like that? I could use a lesson, honestly. All I do is scroll,” Sarah called from in front of them putting a toilet bowl brush into her growing cart.

She was grateful for the kindness her friends shared. “Thank you,” she smiled at Eleanor and then turned to Sarah. “Both of you.”

The pair of them smiled back. “Anything for you, babe,” Sarah assured her.

They returned with the items needed and the boys were waiting, ready to take more bags and boxes than she thought the girls could fit in Sarah’s car with the three of them already inside it. They were like an assembly line of grabbing items and bringing them to her apartment. When everyone else was ahead of her, she grabbed the air mattress box. It was heavy and large enough to make it awkward to carry and Harry frowned watching her struggle to lock her car as she tried to balance it on her hip. All while he carried nothing more than a box of pots and pans that weighed probably a fraction as much.

“Swap with me,” he ordered and placed it on the trunk of Sarah’s car.

“Oh... no, it’s alright. It’s heavy and you’ve already worked and—”

He ignored her, pulling it from her grip as she protested, and he marched toward her building. With a sigh, she grabbed the pots and pans, feeling useless and needy again. The elevator signaled the rest were already on their trip up leaving Harry and her in wait for it to descend again. They stood in silence holding their boxes while waiting patiently. “Thank you,” she said again. It felt like a constant in her mouth as the afternoon progressed. “I can’t imagine how tired you must be.”

“M’fine,” he smiled. “Happy t’see you in exchange of m’nap. Also, would’ve gone home t’Mrs. Peterson asking me t’fix her closet door or check her dryer vent.”

She laughed and Harry thought he won the lottery or was struck by lightning. It was the most beautiful sound in the world, and he felt lucky to hear it. The elevator doors opened, and they reverted back to quiet. Her phone vibrated in her pocket; it was a message from Carter.

Addie misses you so much. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good a roommate as you.

“A friend from school?” Harry asked, unable to keep his interest in who messaged her to himself. Harry never saw himself as jealous. But he never had three years of time without her—a whole college career without him by her side. He didn’t know if she had a relationship and quite frankly she was terrified to ask.

“Yeah, umm... his name’s Carter.”

She was replying to his message reminding him where she kept the emergency chocolate for when Addie spiraled. So at first, she didn’t see the way Harry’s jaw flexed so hard she thought he could have cut the sudden tension in the elevator better than the sharpest knife in the world ever could have. His eyes stared straight ahead as the elevator ascended. Her cheeks heated in the small space, feeling mortified that she made Harry feel jealous. God she couldn’t even come home without making him feel bad.

“I met him at my roommate’s dance recital. You would love him,” she whispered because it was the truth. “He started chatting with me all by myself. He calls me gorgeous when he greets me. But the day I met him, I didn’t want to talk. But he was insistent. It’s why I think you’d like him. He inspired a little thing I wrote, I’ll have to let you read it sometime. But anyway... I showed him a picture of my roommate—Addie—and he fell in love with her. Like right there. In the auditorium right as the curtain was opening for her recital. Just her picture, Harry. It was like when Allie saw the picture of Noah in the newspaper in The Notebook. I watched him fall in love with her. I watched it happen,” she smiled at the memory. “He also calls me my favorite matchmaker. He helped us move three times to two different apartments and he never lets me carry heavy grocery bags even though I’m not his girlfriend,” she explained emphasizing that she was not dating Carter. “And he really liked my writing—thinks I’m going to be an instant cult-classic writer. And he was really excited that I decided to come home—even though Addie is being mean to him now, I guess.”

The little story eased the tension in his jaw. She watched it disappear slowly and she wondered if he was going to develop a TMJ dysfunction from how clenched it was for the last few moments. The elevator stopped and he gestured for her to exit first. Before they opened the door where she could hear the rustling of paper bags and the tearing of boxes.

“Where’s the scissors!?” Louis shouted.

“I told you we needed to buy two,” Sarah said grumpily.

“I didn’t know Niall was going to lose them in the first twenty seconds of opening them!” Eleanor protested.

She turned to face Harry, each had a box in front of them, like armor to protect their hearts, whether they knew it or not. She thought about writing that down as soon as she found her new notebook and a pen. The sadness she felt for making him feel jealous still lingered in her. All of the bad choices she made (even though she loved Addie and Carter and wouldn’t have met them without leaving) made her feel terrible on Harry’s behalf. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered, shame creeping through her body. Without another word, she turned inside before she could say anything else.

Harry stood in front of the open door, noise and chaos ensuing just five feet from him, he worried she was going to get a noise complaint because of the lot of them. He entered the apartment after a few more seconds of silence on his part and even though the apartment wasn’t all that big, he found her instinctively, dropping the box he held onto the counter. He grabbed her wrist like he had a thousand times before, it made her heart flip and flutter like an acrobat in the circus. Without a care of his friends shouting and creating more commotion he leaned in close, so his lips were so close to her ear, she almost closed her eyes to savor the feel of the moment. It wasn’t even that intimate, but it felt like it was.

“I would like t’take you out t’dinner, kitten,” his voice was low and almost gravelly. It warmed her skin and body like nothing she had ever felt before—except she had. Because he always made her feel like this. Ever since they were young, and she knew they were soulmates—even if he didn’t believe in them.

Silently she nodded, meeting his gaze again and smiling. His soft, answering smile was so beautiful she wanted to scream. Thank God she was home.

She excused herself to her bedroom after that, closed the door, where she slid the notebook from one of the bags, found a pen in her purse and drew a heart on the inside cover, listed two names inside it as she always did.

On the first page she scribbled down some notes about how home wasn’t a place, a town, or a building at all.

It was green eyes and a kind smile that made her feel whole.

They hadn’t made it to dinner yet. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Her moving in, especially without all her stuff, took a tremendous effort and amount of time. It took a ton of phone calls to stay on top of it and make sure it didn’t get lost along the way because its destination wasn’t meant for a cross-country road trip or any of the stops along the way back to her. In addition to that, she found a job at one of their local restaurants—Niall was happy to call in a favor to the owner who knew his mum so well, so she began working so much. Mainly because she worried about her savings being dipped into because of the move and missing items.

She also had to visit her own mum now that she was closer to her again. Meanwhile, Harry was still on the schedule to work overtime and all his regular hours as well—at least through the cycle of the schedule he was currently on.

So, two and a half weeks had passed since she moved back. Other than the first day they helped move her in, there had only been a handful of sightings. A few of them visited her while she worked, happy to report back to Harry (even though he insisted it was unnecessary but was nonetheless grateful for their intrusion) she was still in town. When he drove past her apartment building (because he was creepy now and scared beyond belief she would be gone in the middle of the night) and saw her storage pod with her mum’s furniture had been removed he felt a ripple of anxiety course through him. It was only alleviated when he saw her car still parked in the same spot that he relaxed. Their group of friends invited her to their weekly summer bonfire but the first week Harry had to work and the second week she had to work.

There was no time for a dinner date to rekindle the love that never left nor ask questions that Harry needed answered.

By then, everyone outside their circle of friends had heard she was home. People eyed Harry like he was a whole new person. “Ran into her,” Gemma smiled excitedly. “She looks beautiful, college was kind to her.”

Harry nodded, the pair of them in his backyard while his mum was inside cooking for them. They insisted on helping but naturally Gemma told him he was grating cheese the wrong way which resulted in a bickering mess of cheese on Harry’s floor and his mum ushering her grown children outside so she could cook in peace.

They were lying in the grass and Harry sighed feeling like the air had been bogged down with pollutants he didn’t even notice for three years because the air was clean now. “Nearly cried on the elevator when she talked ‘bout her friend Carter. Guess he’s dating her college roommate,” he explained. “He called her gorgeous and I thought I was going t’throw up, Gem,” he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. “M’crazy, aren’t I?”

“No more than usual,” Gem smiled. “I told you she’d be back.” Part of Harry doubted Gemma. It was small, but gnawed at him late at night when he missed her most and thought about how nice it would be to have her to snuggle with in his bed. It had been ages since he held her like that. They only had a small number of sleepovers at their age. They were very much still under the watchful eye of their parents at that time. He cherished those memories and often looked at the twinkling stars when he thought about how she would feel in his bed when he couldn’t sleep.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled back. “You were right,” he sighed with relief.

“She’s scared Mum is going to hate her.”

Harry rolled his eyes; irritation of the slightest bit filled his body. “Of course she is,” he huffed out another exhausted sigh.

“I told her that was ridiculous.”

Harry didn’t tell Gemma about the dinner date he was waiting for (again) because she already knew. “M’hoping she’ll tell me why.”

“I think we’re all hoping that, Harry,” she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “M’sure if you ask she’ll tell you.”

“Gemma, I hugged her, and I think it cured me,” he swallowed. The way her body fit into the frame of his like they never stopped hugging was so incredible. Gemma smiled fondly at her little brother and nodded. She was certain he was telling the truth. Gemma believed they were made for each other just as much as the rest of everyone else believed. “M’afraid that if I kiss her, I might propose on the spot.”

“Over my dead body,” Gemma laughed. “Mum and I would kill you for not letting us be there,” so Harry couldn’t do anything else but laugh along with her.

They were approaching week three and other than run ins as a group and waves as their lives quietly skipped past one another through no fault of their own. But finally, he ran into her at the grocery store. She was in the checkout line waiting and Harry was just grabbing a cart to fill for the week.

“Hey, kitten,” he smiled. She had a basket on her arm that looked like the handles were digging into her skin and he wanted to take it from her but instead she placed it at her feet and smiled back so sweetly as they began chatting.

“Finished with your shift?” She asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. M’gonna go home and take a nap. But m’low on a lot of food.”

“If I were you, I would have bought something to go and went and took that nap.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t have run into you,” he reminded her with a smile that took over his lips before he could stop it. It wasn’t meant to be cute or sweet, but it was anyway. It made her cheeks turn pink and it did feel like fate—even though if this were three years ago, she wouldn’t have even noticed she had run into Harry by chance. It would have seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“That’s true,” she bit the inside of her lip.

“How ‘bout you? Working tonight?” He asked.

She shook her head. “You can go ahead of me,” she said to the woman waiting behind her who smiled kindly in return. “No... I did a double yesterday and I’m awfully tired myself. A nap sounds like the right idea,” she grinned knowingly.

Harry couldn’t help it. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he thought it was now or never because they had been doing some kind of dance that he was certain she would write about. Ships passing in the night and all that. Just missing one another and their free time so he had to ask right then. “Are y’free tonight?” He asked. “Other than napping?” He amended with a tired smile. “For that dinner?” He reminded her.

“Yes,” she nodded quickly, immediately. A relieved sigh fell from his mouth, and he thought it was the best news in the world. Maybe even better than the news she was home. Even though he was there in person to see that for himself. She giggled slightly at his relief. Not because it was funny, but because she was relieved too.

“I’ll pick y’up at six.”

She was bubbling with excitement as she left the grocery store. Her heart in her throat and she headed to the coffee shop because if she was going to skip her nap to get ready for her date with her ex-boyfriend but also the very same man she’d been in love with since she understood the emotion, then she was going to need caffeine. And back up. A text to Eleanor and Sarah telling them it was date night set them into motion.

“Hey Lo,” she smiled downright gleefully. A date with Harry. It felt like the very first one. “Can I have my usual?” She asked.

Lauren nodded eagerly, a smile on her lips. Her kind friend chatted with her, asking how her day was going, how her studies were and the like. It was unbelievably nice to have her back in town. It had eaten away at Lauren for what she had insinuated. Keeping it a secret from her friend group was abhorrent. She knew it was and so the fact she was home was a good thing.

She was happy to have her friend back. Even though she knew it was her fault she left in the first place. “Harry and I are going to dinner,” she was smiling the way she used to when Harry texted her asking if they needed anything for their study time.

Just like that a switch went off in the pit of her stomach. The envy she felt was atrocious and she wanted to stop it but it was growing like it had the day she had told her Harry deserved more. “Like a date?” She asked in surprise.

She nodded. “I know. It’s...kinda crazy right?”

“Yeah... yeah it is. I’m surprised... he uh...” Lauren swallowed begging her mouth not to say anything worse than what she had suggested three years prior. She had already lost her friend, she knew it. It was a miracle she was home. She didn’t deserve the heartache at the hands of her jealousy. But the green little monster was vicious. “He doesn’t usually go on dates during the week,” she murmured, putting her drink on the counter. It was horrible, watching the bubbly bright smile fall off her face. Literally slid from her lips to the floor in seconds. Lauren turned to the customer that was next in line. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she said as she made the next drink. “It’ll be a nice date.”

But just like before, she knew she planted a seed of doubt as she left the coffee shop.

Eleanor and Sarah were already at her apartment when she got there. They had clothing options that they had scrounged together as well as a plethora of makeup pallets that she didn’t have since most of her stuff was still a day or two out. “At least my stuff will be here soon.”

“I cannot wait to see your shoes,” Sarah sighed dreamily. “You always had the best shoe collection.”

“Do you still have your curling iron?” Eleanor asked. “That thing was the most amazing hair styling tool known to man and I don’t know how I have lived without you and it all these years.”

She giggled, grateful for the distraction from her conversation with Lauren. Because honestly, if they hadn’t already been there, she might have cancelled on Harry and thought about moving back with Addie and Carter. Thinking of Addie made her miss her. “Do you guys mind if I FaceTime Addie? She’ll want to know I’m going on this date.”

“Of course not! We’ll need her opinion too,” Eleanor assured her.

So she rang Addie who picked up on the second ring and was immediately squealing with excitement. “I told you he wouldn’t have moved on!” She shouted.

“Holy shit, did you think he moved on?!” Sarah asked.

“Well... I mean... it was three years.”

Sarah and Eleanor exchanged a look of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

“I told you,” Addie quipped again. Eleanor was putting eyeshadow on her and her reflection in the mirror suggested she wouldn’t need any of the three cream blushes that Eleanor had laid on the counter. She glared at Addie on her cell phone screen.

“Well...I don’t know. I just figured...”

“Hi Addie,” Carter said. “Wow, aren’t you all dolled up, Gorgeous,” he winked at the screen. Nice to see you.”

“Oh no wonder Harry was jealous of him,” Eleanor whispered delightedly.

“Shut up, he was not,” she gasped.

Addie giggled, pecked Carter’s warm cheek. “Nice to meet you ladies,” he said to Sarah and Eleanor. “Heard tons about you. I’m gonna start dinner, love,” he kissed the top of Addie’s head. “Can’t wait to see the finished product, Gorgeous,” he winked at her again as he left their view.

It was great for her aching heart that her two little families liked each other so quickly. She wanted to ask Eleanor and Sarah about what Lauren had said about him dating but she was scared to know the answer. But if she didn’t know, then it would probably ruin the date. “How... how often does Harry go on dates?” She asked.

“None,” Addie was the one that answered with a shake of her head.

Eleanor snorted. “She’s right,” Sarah nodded. “Harry has been on zero dates. Unless you count Mrs. Peterson needing him all the time to fix something at her house. Then about a thousand, I’d say,” she smiled.

“None?” She asked. “I...” she swallowed. “I thought I heard someone say...he was dating.”

“Who the fuck said that?” Eleanor looked at her in the mirror in absolute shock.

“Oh I just...” she should have told them. They would be able to assuage her worries immediately. “People talk about me pretty loudly; with Harry being a town staple now,” she shrugged. “They think I’m deaf or something,” she explained quietly.

“Harry hasn’t dated anyone,” Sarah stated matter of fact, no room for argument.

“I told you so,” Addie sang through the phone. Eleanor and Sarah smiled sweetly at their new friend within a cellphone screen. “You left your picture here,” Addie said and moved to the kitchen.

“What picture?” Sarah asked.

“Addie...maybe don’t make me look insane?” She suggested and wished she could cover her face with her hands but didn’t want to ruin the makeup.

But Addie was already showing them the picture of her and Harry from their days in school when they first got together. “You had that on the fridge?” Eleanor looked at her with astonishment.

“Yeah, literally from the moment we moved in,” Addie reminded her.

“Harry has the same one on his fridge,” Sarah explained.

“Same what?”

Her head snapped up to the mirror reflection and saw Harry’s frame hovering near the doorway. “Holy shit, sweetie, he’s even hotter in person,” Addie was already swooning.

“Addison!” Carter called from behind the screen.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks the slightest shade pinker. “Hi Addie.”

“Harry,” she smiled unabashedly, unaffected by her compliment. “I can see why she said she would spend thousands of dollars on your calendar.”

He snorted and caught her gaze in the reflection again. He squinted, the screen that showed the picture of the pair of them on the fridge miles and miles away. “That’s on your fridge?” He asked.

“Every morning I stare at it while I drink orange juice from the carton.”

“I told you it was her, Carter,” she said knowingly.

“How did you get in?” Sarah asked.

“Door was unlocked. I heard you guys squealing, so I figured I’d see what you were all up to. Also it’s five fifty five and I said I would be here at six.”

“So punctual,” Addie smiled brightly.

“Well, she’s all set,” Eleanor tapped her shoulder. “Just need to swap out this cute comfy look with a dress.”

“How fancy is the place we’re going?” She frowned.

“It’s not,” he assured her. “You could go like that, honestly. You would still be prettier than everyone else.”

“That’s notebook worthy for sure,” Addie murmured.

“Addison,” this time it wasn’t Carter that said it.

“Have fun, sweetie. Nice meeting you all.”

“Bye Gorgeous!” Carter called as Addie gave a wave and hung up.

Eleanor and Sarah ushered Harry out of the bathroom and she changed quietly. Immediately calling Addie back and pressing the phone to her ear. “Lauren said he’s dating,” she whispered so quietly Addie could barely hear her.

“Lauren can go eat dirt. She’s probably jealous. He asked you on a date.”

She sighed. “This is a horrible idea.”

“No,” Addie was serious, shaking her head even though she couldn’t see. “It’s a wonderful idea. He’s your soulmate who has waited three years for this date. Let him have it,” she whispered. “You deserve this, sweetie. You love him. You just need to jump,” she assured her.

She took a deep breath and looked away from the mirror. “Okay,” she whispered to Addie. “I’ll jump.”

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@angeldavis777

most: @harryspirate

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

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#harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles #most #best friend!harry #second chance romance!harry

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Note

Christian "no fun" Horner preventing you and Max from leaving the gala after Max collects his trophy

Another day, another blurb 🫣 sorry, not sorry

The Real Prize - Captivity || MV1

Pre-Gala || The Real Prize || Jealousy || Panties || Captivity || Rocky || Escaping || Thighs || Consequences || A Mile High

“We will take a short break before we continue with the rest of the awards…”

Max’s breath of relief made you giggle and you squeezed his knee under the table as he muttered his thanks to a god he didn’t believe in. “Follow me,” he whispered as he pushed his chair back.

Planning to get lost in the crowd of people that were also making the most of the break, he laced his fingers with yours and dove right in. You could see the exit ahead, almost taste the freedom it offered, but before Max could get there someone beat him to it.

“Going somewhere?” Christian asked, waving the large trophy. “You forgot something.”

“I didn’t forget it, we obviously weren’t leaving.” A playful smile grew on Max’s lips as he took the trophy. “Would I really leave this thing behind?”

Christian’s brows lifted slightly, the only reaction he gave as he pointed back towards the auditorium. “It’s only another couple of hours and we will all be out of here. You are coming to the after party.”

It wasn’t a question and you hid your face in Max’s chest as you quietly laughed. Max did not look impressed at the idea but he nodded anyway. “I’m just going to see Rocky, you know, one last time before he’s gone.”

Christian nodded understanding the attachment Max had to his RB19. It was parked back in the storage room after being brought on stage for his award and soon it would be shipped off to the HQ museum.

“Don’t take too long,” Christian said with a pat to his shoulder. “I’ll see you back in there.”

You both watched his figure retreat. “So are we breaking out of here?”

“Not yet,” Max smirked, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “I do want to see my car first.”

#ollie answers #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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shesoutofhere · 2 months

Text

Work To Do

Steve Harrington X reader

Pt. 1

Summary: You and Steve have been seeing each other since the fight. That was a while ago and nobody knows yet. Steve calls it private, you call it secret.

Ignore all typos or I'll cry <3

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

It's dark and all you can feel is Steve’s hands on you.

You both have found yourselves in a predicament.

Steve’s break ended about twenty minutes ago and you're sure if you don’t head back to your job, the old ladies at the library are gonna send a search party after you.

You know that you should leave but everytime you make a move to leave Steve just pulls you back in and who are you to deny him.

You could continue on with your gorgeous boyfr-, partner, friend? but you can feel something poking into your back and it's starting to hurt.

“Okay, Steve,” you say gasping but Steve doesn’t want to hear what you have to say and before you know it his lips are back on yours. Steve pushes you further into the shelf behind you and you can no longer take the pain of whatever is stabbing into your back.

This time you really give Steve a good shove, causing him to run into the shelf behind him.

You both let out similar exasperations of pain.

There's a silence that follows after. You two don't say anything but you’re sure you’re both thinking the same thing so you just bite the bullet.

“Hey Steve?”

He gives a sigh, “yeah?”

You respond, “we gotta tell Robin.”

There's a pause again. You think you’ve had this conversation about a thousand times and everytime it ends with Steve persuading you to drop the subject.

The persuasion had been working, but the more this goes on the more it feels wrong. You like to tell yourself and Steve that it’s for Robin's sake but there's a small voice in your head reminding you who the reassurance is really for.

Steve sighs again but grabs you by your waist, pulling you away from the shelf behind you.

“I know, trust me, it's just…” he doesn’t continue. He does this everytime. Before, the answer would come out so smoothly, like he meant it but now he has to think up excuses.

You turn your face away from him, Steve’s lifts his hand to your face, gently turning it back to face him.

“Hey” he starts softly, “what's with the pout?” you roll your eyes.

Steve runs a finger over your lips before continuing. “We're gonna tell Robin, hell, we're gonna tell everyone.” you give a mean laugh. Now Steve is pouting, “Hey now, we are, just give me time.” you go to pull away from Steve but he tightens his grip with the hand he still has on your waist.

He brings his forehead to rest on yours. “I mean it okay, don’t for a second think I’m procrastinating on purpose.” with that he gives your waist a squeeze before letting you go.

You both straighten yourselves out before finally opening the door. This isn't the first time you’ve been in the family video storage closet but you hope it’s the last. You wait for Steve to lock the door back up and wait for him to turn back around. When he faces you, you give him a small smile. Steve looks both ways before reaching out and pulling you in for a kiss.

You try not to think too much about it as you both start walking to the employee exit. “Alright, let's get you out of here before Keith blows our cover.” you know he’s trying to be funny but it doesn’t make that pit in your stomach go away.

You let out an uncomfortable chuckle, “yeah okay Steve.” Before you make it out the door Steve grabs you hand, “Hey, I’ll see you later alright?” you want to say no but you look into his stupid brown puppy eyes and let out a small ‘sure’ before you can even think.

Steve pumps his fist, “Yes!”, you giggle at this. With a final kiss on a cheek, Steve lets you head to your car. You let out a long sigh once you sit in your car, you let your head fall onto the steering wheel and stay there for a bit.

You come to a realization and lift your head up quickly, no time for moping, you’ve got to get back to your old ladies.

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

You can’t help but feel like the great man upstairs is upset with you. He’s got to be. What else could explain little Henderson bombarding you with a million questions about you and Steve.

You're putting books away in the library, when all the sudden you're interrupted by an out of breath Henderson. This is not completely out of the ordinary. You and the kids get along great but you can’t hide your shock when Dustin finally asks you a coherent question.

“Are you and Steve fornicating?”

You whip your head around so quickly, you think you might have given yourself whiplash.

“Dustin Henderson!” you whisper shout. He shoots you a look “It’s true isn’t it?” you throw your hand over his mouth. “You are being loud and disruptive.”

Dustin shakes your hand off. “Oh it is so true, I can see it on your face.” you speed past him down the aisle. “You’re actually insane Henderson. Just because you miss Suzy Poo doesn’t mean you can start making up wild accusations to entertain yourself.”

Dustin walks faster to match your pace, “you are deflecting so hard right now.”

“I am not.” you continue walking and go to turn the corner but realize that you’ve walked into the corner of the room.

You turn around and Dustin is standing in your way. You sigh and sink to the floor. Dustins figured you out, no point in running.

Dustin gives you a smug smile before crouching down to sit in front of you. “Oh my gosh it is true, It was a guesstimation but I think your face just confirmed it.”

You pull your knees up and rest your forehead on them. Your heart is beating so fast, you think you might throw up.

Dustin clears his throat, you look up. “So, are you gonna leave me hanging?”

You let out a whine, “give me a second, I’m having a meltdown here.”

He gives you just that, a second, before he’s clearing his throat louder.

“Okay okay, stop being so loud or I'm actually gonna have to kick you out.”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, spill the beans.”

You don’t even know where to begin, wait, yes you do.

“How on earth did you figure this out?”

Dustin shrugs “keith.” He says, like it’s common sense.

Your eyes widen, “okay you explain that first please.” Dustin gets comfy in his spot, “I went looking for Steve the other day and when I couldn’t find him I asked Keith.” he pauses.”Keith said that he was probably out back making out with some chick.” you raise your brows, thoroughly surprised that Keith didn’t sell you guys out.

Dustin continues, “I, who knows no boundaries, ran out back to see who it could be. Alas I see you and Steve bidding farewell to one another. Your turn.”

You run your hands over your face, you guess you owe it to him. “I don’t know Dustin, it just kinda happened.” He’s quick to interrupt, “when?” you start picking at the carpet on the floor. “The day we fought at his house.” Dustin smacks your knee, “What?!” He scoffs, “that was forever ago.”

You shake your head, disagreeing. “It wasn’t that long ago.” Dustin deadpans, “a long time to not tell anyone.” you nod your head, he’s got you there. “Trust me, I’m with you on that.”

You change the subject before this leads to you crying to Dustin about Steve’s commitment issues.

“So, is it as weird as it sounds? Me and Steve?”

Dustin shakes his head. “Surprisingly not, I mean at first yeah but I can see it.” you chuckle at his honesty. “I mean it is kinda weird that it happened because you guys fought but hey who am I to judge what gets you guys going.”

You give him a disgusted look, “let's maybe not go down that path of conversation.” He nods, “yeah okay.”

Dustin finally asks the million dollar question. “So why haven’t you told anyone?” you shrug, you’ve got no answer, “Better yet, why haven’t you told Robin?”

You both sit in silence before you muster up the courage to respond. “At first, I liked it being in between just me and Steve. It felt nice not having to hear anyone's opinions or thoughts on us.” Dustin nods, still listening. “But now, I couldn’t care less. It's actually eating away at me and I feel like blurting it out every chance I get but Steve-.”

Dustin sighs, “but Steve.”

You nod, “yeah, Steve.”

Dustin shakes his head, “Can I tell you something?” you nod again, fully prepared to hear him defend his buddy.

“I’ve known Steve a lot longer than I’ve known you but I came to you knowing that you’d tell the truth.”

Ouch

“Can I ask you something Dustin?”

Dustin nods, “of course.”

“Is it gonna continue on like this? Am I gonna be left waiting?”

Dustin lets out a puff of air. “I can’t answer that.”

You sigh, you know he can’t but the look on his face gives the answer he’s holding back.

Dustin gives you a gentle pat on the knee, “I’m not gonna speak for him, I love that guy but I know he’s a piece of work.” you nod in agreement. “I may not know much but I think you guys have to talk about this.”

You let out a long sigh before getting up from your spot. You reach your hand out to help him up.

Once he’s up, you wrap your arm around his neck and give his hair a ruffle. “Look at you mister. Couples therapist. Suzy Poo has done a number on you.”

Dustin swats at your hand, “okay okay, cut it out. I was going to offer to help you with book returns but I’m thinking about taking that offer back.”

You straighten up, “what noo, no take backsies, you're stuck with me now Henderson.”

Dustin rolls his eyes but follows you up to counter anyways, you give him a sweet smile.

What a big softie.

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

You’re in your bedroom, when you hear a familiar voice by the window. You open the blinds and see Steve waiting expectantly. You stick your head out, “what are you doing here?”

Steve looks confused, “thought we were gonna watch a movie?” He lifts the bag of snacks up in his hand to emphasize the point.

In all honesty you had completely forgotten about your movie night. Steve has been coming over Thursday nights because he knows that it's date night for your parents.

AKA, no parents.

“Righttt, yeah sorry I lost track of time. Come to the side door.”

You run down the stairs and go to unlock the door.

The second you swing it open, Steve’s wrapping you up in a hug. “Hey gorgeous.”

You actually swoon.

You hug him back.”Hey handsome.”

When he lets you go, he goes straight to the living room. You feel a fuzzy feeling seeing him like this. Navigating around your house, like it's second nature to him. You follow behind him and watch him set his bag of snacks down on the table. He plops himself down on the couch and when you get close enough he pulls you down into his lap.

Steve immediately starts kissing you all over. Your eyes, nose, cheeks, forehead, and finally he brings his lips to yours. You will forever be shocked about how he takes your breath away everytime. You’d like to say you're an expert when it comes to kissing Steve harrington now. But it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, it always sends your head spinning.

Steve’s insatiable. He kisses and kisses until you both can’t breathe. Being the gentleman that he is, he lets you catch your breath, but he doesn’t offer himself the same. Steve moves down your chin, then your neck. You let out a content sight when he sucks on a sensitive spot. Steve lays you back on the couch, still leaving wet kisses along your neck.

Steve lets himself lay between your thighs. He uses one hand to grab your thigh and bring it up to his waste. You take it from there and wrap it behind, pulling him in closer. You feel him groan into your neck when you feel his bulge grind against you.

This time Steve takes the lead and grinds into you, at a pace that isn’t safe for either of you.

You can’t help but let out a moan. This has Steve’s lips back on yours. You take your hands and wrap them around his neck. One of them is going to run through his hair. You give a small tug, which has Steve grinding even harder into you.

“God, I love it when you do that.” Steve grunts against your lips.

You can’t help but smirk, “what, yank on your hair? You freak.”

Steve ignores you and continues kissing you, he must be embarrassed because next thing you know his tongue is pushing into your mouth. Steve’s hand runs up the side of your body, looking for a lift in your shirt. When he finds it, his hand goes under and runs up your bare side. You know what he’s looking for and he’s not going to find it.

Why on earth would you wear a bra in the comfort of your own home?

Steve is internally grateful for your “hippie ways”.

Steve goes to lift your shirt and you freeze. Steve doesn’t seem to notice at first but when you put your hands on his he looks at you and pulls back.

Steve sits up, “whats up?”

What's up? What's up is that you can hear little Henderson buzzing in your ear. You’re not going to tell Steve that so you lie.

“I um, I just, I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”

Steve goes to get off of you, pull you up with him. “Oh, why didn’t you say anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s upset, he doesn’t sound upset.

“I guess I just got caught up, sorry.”

Steve shakes his head while he leans back into his seated position, pulling you into his side. “Hey why are you sorry? Don’t be sorry.”

You nuzzle into his side. “Sorry that I might have potentially gotten you sick?”

Steve wraps his arm around you and pulls you in further. “Hey, it was bound to happen. You can’t keep me away from you.”

You chuckle at this.

You both sit in a comfortable silence. Steve is rubbing your shoulder and giving you occasional kisses on your head.

You sit there and you stew. You feel jittery and unsettled. You're overwhelmed. Being here, like this, with Steve. It feels like a relationship, like boyfriend and girlfriend. You feel the sting in your eyes and start to tear up. You sniffle and Steve immediately clocks it.

He tries to get a good look at your face and you pull away. “Hey, what's going on? Talk to me.”

You stand up still not facing him. You feel him standing up behind you. He turns you around and asks you again. You feel like you're suffocating so you just say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Dustin knows about us.” for a second Steve seems fine, calm and collective even. You think that maybe you were being dramatic about all of this but then Steve spits out a “what?”

“Did you tell him?” he’s got a different tone than his normal one.

You shake your head. “No, he found out.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips and scoffs.”What? How?” you tell how he saw you both saying bye to one another. Steve goes to sit on the couch but stands right back up, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“That little shit, always going and getting into people's business.”

You’re quick to defend Dustin. “Hey don’t be like that. He was really sweet about it actually, he came by the library and we talked about-”

Steve cuts you off, “you guys talked about it? Talked about what?”

You don't like Steve’s tone, “About you and me, he just wanted an explanation.”

For some reason this sets Steve off.

“You don’t owe him an explanation.”

You’re starting to get annoyed, “No I don’t, but I wanted to tell him.”

Steve starts pacing,”I wish you would have told me immediately, I would've done, I don’t know, damage control.”

You scoff. “Damage control? Are you serious Steve?” The look on his face tells you that he is.

“Do you know how good it felt to finally tell someone about us? It made it feel like, whatever this is, is real and not just some dirty secret.”

Steve doesn’t seem to like that response, “No, don’t do that, don’t reduce our relationship to that.”

You laugh. “Oh what relationship Steve? Do you really think you deserve to call it that? You refuse to tell anyone about us, you won’t label us and half the time we were together, you’ve got your tongue down my throat.”

Steve runs his hands through his hair. “That is not true. We do plenty of things that aren’t just that. We have a movie night tradition for god sakes.”

“Oh yeah, and how was that going tonight, hm?” low blow, not every movie night ends like that. You’re just feeling cynical enough to use it for your cause.

All Steve can do is shake his head. “It’s so much more than that and it hurts to think that is how you see this.”

You feel like you’re going crazy, like he’s avoiding the point on purpose. “Tough shit Steve, that hurt you feel right now, is how I feel everytime we're together.”

Steves got the saddest look on his face but you can’t stop now that you’ve started. “Everytime you flip out about telling Robin, or my parents, or even the little old ladies at the library. Every time you refuse to do something remotely close to the town, in fear that someone will see us. Or how we watch movies and cuddle and talk about our days and do domestic shit. All of that and I'm not even your girlfriend.”

You continue before he can even try to intervene. “You think whatever you want about labels and relationships but I want to be a girlfriend, I want to tell the people I love about this awesome guy who I get to call my boyfriend.” you let out a shaky breath, “and if you can’t give that to me then I think we're wasting our time here Steve.”

There, you’ve done it.

“I’ve said what I needed to say Steve, this lies in your hands now.”

You sniffle, you haven’t realized it until just now but you're crying. Tears are streaming down your face. You don’t want him to see any more of your crying so you leave him in the living room and head to the kitchen.

You're in there for a minute or so. There is an unsettling quietness. Suddenly you hear quick footsteps and before you know it Steve is grabbing at your hands, looking at you with such intensity.

“I'm sorry, I am so sorry.” you’re a bit shocked at his immediate apology. You’re more shocked when you see him start to tear up.

You’ve got no words, you have never seen Steve cry before. “I can’t believe I've been making you feel like this.” he grips your hands tighter. “You don’t deserve it, you deserve better but I’d be an idiot to let you go.”

His voice starts to waver. “And you can call me selfish but I think I’d lose it if I ever saw you with someone else. I want to be with you. Please believe me when I say that, please.”

You nod your head, not trusting your voice.

“My last relationship was shit, I ruined it and I am so scared that I'm gonna ruin this.” he lets out a shaky breath. “You make me sickeningly happy and don’t think for a second that I don’t want you to be my girlfriend.”

Steve lets go of your hands to gently hold your face. Wiping away your tears. “I want that and everything more. And it’s going to happen. It’s going to be the best date you’ve ever been on and we're going to end the night being boyfriend and girlfriend.”

You feel like the storm has passed now but you have to keep him on his toes. “If I say yes.”

Steve goes a bit pale at that but he can take it. “If you say yes.”

You can’t help but smile and that has Steve pulling you in tight. He’s got you wrapped in a bear hug. “God I almost ruined that, didn’t I ?” he mumbles into your hair.

You’ve got your arms wrapped just as tight around him. “Yeah, we’ve got some work to do, Harrington.”

He pulls out from the hug but slides his arm to wrap around your shoulder. You both walk back to the living room. “And work I shall do baby.” Steve leans down to leave a peck on the top of your head.

After Steve pops the movie in, you both get cozy on the couch to officially start your movie night. You don’t really watch the movie though. You and Steve ramble all sorts of nonsense back and forth to one another.

There's no rush for him to get out before your parents get home, or constant questions about where Robin is. There's no jumpy, skittish behavior. Just Steve, willing to prove that he meant what he said.

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

Ugh, I love them. I think I have one more thought-out part for them but after that, I might be open to some requests!

Taglist

@livsters @bastardstevie @strangerweirdo15

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things

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c0eu4 · 10 months

Text

OP81 | Hard work ☁︎

Summary: After the biggest exam of her entire life, y/n found Oscar in front of her university, waiting for her.

Warning: fluff, anxious reader?

A/N: Just had some inspiration for that after one exam I had and totally fucked up it lol

MASTERLIST requests are open

Her hand hurts, she can't write anymore. Her copies filled with blue pen in front of her, she read it again one last time until the time limit rings.

A weight immediately lifts from her shoulders. She knows she succeeded. She didn't spend nights and days behind her computer, scribbling things on her notepad and repeating her lessons to Oscar for nothing.

She untied her hair down, puts her pens in her pencil case and puts it in her bag. She puts her coat on her back and grabs her copies. She puts her bag on her back, places her copies in the storage area and heads towards the exit of the building.

She closes her coat as she walks, putting on her mittens and shoving her hands in her pockets.

The cold of winter is felt. She pulls up her coat to hide her chin and leaves the building. Her cheeks and nose quickly turn red from the cold as she walks towards the gate.

Once on the other side of it, she walks towards the street which leads to the metro, to return home.

Her friends suggested that they spend time together in their usual little café but she preferred to refuse, knowing that she would be too tired after her exam.

She continues walking a few meters before seeing her boyfriend, leaning against his car, a coffee in his hand and looking at her, a big smile on his face.

She smiles when she sees him and walks more quickly towards him. She takes refuge directly in his arms, on the verge of crying. After all the stress she has accumulated, all the work she has done, she has every right to take a break. He hugged her tightly, warping his warm arms around her waist.

''I'm so proud of you my love.'' She can't help but blush a little more when she hears his compliment, his australian accent still makes her fall in love even more.

She separates from him, taking the coffee that he offers her.

''Don't burn yourself.'' She nodded quickly and took a sip of the warm liquids.

''Thank you baby.'' He kissed her forehead and opened the passenger door for her.

She sits there and Oscar sits next to her, behind the wheel. He starts the engine and drives them to their shared flat.

Throughout the trip, she talks to him about his exam. Passing by the two hundred and thirty three bananas that a man bought in a problem to triangular figures mixing the theorem of Pythagoras and Thales.

He listens to her, without interrupting her, taking advantage of her voice that he hasn't heard all day.

Once home, she continues talking about her exam. She speaks faster and faster and spreads the subject even more. And Oscar feels that it makes her stressed to talk about it.

So he cuts her off, ''Y/n, don't you want to stop talking about that ? You always speak fast when you're stressed.''

She sighed. Not in a disappointing way, but more because she knows that he's right.

''Yeah sorry if I bother you with that.'' She simply says, taking off her shoes and coat.

''You never bother me love. I just said that for you to relax.'' He takes a hanger to hang his and her coat.

They both walk towards the kitchen, she is already taking the milk out of the fridge and him rummaging on the shelf to get two cups.

It's a little ritual that they both have. Every time, when one or the other is stressed, they prepare hot chocolates. Because it's not a secret that Oscar loves chocolate and it's not a secret that y/n loves the feelings of hot liquids.

He puts the cups full of milk in the microwave and takes out the cocoa. She rummages through a shelf and pulls out some little chocolate marshmallow teddy bears.

Once the milk is hot, Oscar adds the cocoa to the two cups and a few teddy bears to his cup.

''I will never be able to understand how you drink your chocolate with teddy bears.'' She always hated putting teddy bears in her chocolate. Not that she doesn't like marshmallows, but she hates anything that's hard and gets mushy (Without a second thought).

''You don't know what you're missing.'' She puts a few bears in her mouth and eats them.

''Na you, you don't know what you're doing.'' He giggles and steals a few bears from her hands to eat it.

''Hey! I'm going to tell Mark what you're doing !''

He kisses her cheeks, putting one of his hands in her lower back, heading her towards the couch. They sit in, they cups of hot chocolate in hand, a warm blanket on them.

She is looking for a new series to watch on Netflix, Oscar eating his teddy bear with his spoon.

When she finally finds something good to watch, she takes a sip of her chocolate and gets a little closer to Oscar.

They end the day like that, in front of their series, cuddling each other.

#op81 fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar #f1 drivers #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #fluff #formula 1 #formula one #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri f1

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delicatebarness · 5 months

Text

i cant read your mind | chapter three

Summary: After choosing to leave with Bucky, it didn't take long for you to set him off.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout. Implied Sexual Intercourse.

Word Count: 1745

Spotify Playlist | Tips

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I haven't stopped thinking about this chapter all day.

Bucky’s voice was demanding as he called out to you again. “Sorry, boys,” you glance back at Walker with a playful smirk “But the sergeant’s orders come first,” you added, your loyalty to Bucky laced behind the words.

“But, I’m Captain America.” Walker protested, entitlement was evident in his tone.

“Not my Captain America,” you shot back, your tone was defiant as you exited the car and followed behind Bucky. Though you couldn’t see Bucky’s face, you could almost see the smug grin taking over his face, knowing you were following his every step.

You turned at the sound of the car door closing, Sam decided to join you and Bucky. Sending him a reassuring smile, you stopped to wait for him to catch up before continuing the walk together.

Once back on the jet, a heavy silence settled between the three of you. Each of you got lost in your thoughts, reflecting on the mission’s outcome so far and pondering the next steps. Settling onto the red seat, your head resting in your hands, you mulled over the information you had gathered from over the comms and the walk back. Across from you, Sam lay on his back with his brow furrowed, deep in thought. Meanwhile, Bucky perched on top of the storage in the center, his gaze distant as he stared at the floor.

“You alright?” you snapped your gaze up to Sam as he broke the silence, his attention focused on Bucky as he nodded slightly.

“Let’s take the shield, Sam,” Bucky suggested, his gaze never leaving the floor. “Let’s take the shield and do this ourselves.”

“We can’t just run on the man, beat him up, and take it,” Sam responded as he began to sit up. “Do you remember what happened the last time we stole it?”

You did.

You arrived with Sharon at the overpass, exiting the car, your heart clenched seeing Bucky in the backseat of their so-called ‘Getaway car’. He took up the majority of the back seat but still looked lost. After thanking Sharon for bringing you, you fit the back seat with Bucky.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled softly as you shuffled around trying to get comfortable.

“If I remember correctly, these were made while you were being framed,” you replied, glancing down at your hands. With a tug, you lifted your sleeve back, revealing the bruises he left on your wrist. “If anyone here knows you’re innocent, it’s me.”

After he escaped with Steve, you were confined alongside your fellow friends and teammates. By, your fellow friends and teammates. You couldn’t help but replay every time you stole a Quinjet to answer Bucky’s call in those two years.

Receiving the messages from him - “I miss you,” or “I need you,” or “Come.” - you’d be on a jet within the hour, flying from wherever to meet him in that dimly lit box apartment. It always ended with him taking his anger and frustration out on you for a few hours and then, you’d be back at the compound. Rarely, it would take you less than 24 hours to get to him.

It wasn’t until Steve came to break you out, that you saw him again. Gasping when you noticed his missing arm, you hurried to him, and his right hand reached up to cp your cheek. This tender side was a rarity, the side made you wonder if there could be something more between you. Not just a physical intimacy.

His calls became less frequent during his time in Wakanda, of course, he was back on ice for a time, but once he came out, it was not the same. You found that Wakanda made him better. He showed his tender side more often and his calls would last a weekend rather than just a couple of hours. This side of him helped relieve the pressure of being on the run.

And then, he vanished.

As they spoke about the past, you couldn’t shake the thought of using your undercover and charisma skills to retrieve the shield.

“You know,” you began tentatively, interrupting their conversation just as Sam had finished his side of the argument. “I could try to use, un, you know, the skills Natasha taught me to help with Walk-”

“No,” Bucky cut you off, his voice commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. His jaw was tight as he looked intensely at you.

“It’s just to bring his guard down,” you swallowed nervously.

“I said no,” his voice laced with anger. He jumped off the storage box and made his way over to you, leaning down to you his voice turned into a whisper that only you could hear. “I don’t share.”

Your breath caught in your throat, it had been a long time since you saw this side of Bucky, it was the possessive and angry Bucky that you first started sleeping with, the one who was obsessed with making sure went back to the compound with a notable mark somewhere on you.

You nodded, worried about any words making his temper worse.

“We just got our ass handed to us by Super Soldiers, and we got nothing,” the sound of Sam’s voice brought Bucky back to his usual grumpy old man personality which caused them to carry on their previous conversation. You just sat and listened, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Bucky.

After Bucky explained to Sam that there was someone else for him to meet, he turned his gaze back to you, “You should get some rest,” he suggested, his voice becoming gently but still firm.

Once off the jet, you left Sam and Bucky, found a nearby hotel, and booked yourself a room but before you could even sink into comfort, your phone began buzzing beside you. “What do you mean, arrested?” your voice cut through the silence of the room.

“He missed his count-mandated therapy,” you could sense Sam’s jaw tense as his answer came through the phone.

So much for rest, you thought as you let out a heavy sigh and began to hastily get ready once again.

“Dr Raynor?” you called out as you came out of one of the offices holding a half-eaten donut in one hand and a box full of more in the other.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The doctor inquired as she took in the surroundings, curious about your presence here.

“Somewhat,” you replied, returning the donut to the box. “That nice officer gave me a box of donuts,” you continued as you gestured over to Bucky, “Oh, also, that’s ‘Old Man’, the guy I mentioned to you.” Dr Raynor followed your motion, gaze steeling on Bucky leaning against the desk. A sigh slipped past her lips.

She continued explaining that she was here for Bucky and suggested that they have his session now and for Sam to join them. You half expected her to ask you to join, after all, he’s all she’s heard about for the last six months.

“That wasn’t a request,” Raynor’s tone was firm as she directed Sam to attend the session. He glanced back at you briefly, you offered him a small nod, reassuring him that you’d be okay waiting before he followed Raynor and Bucky.

You drummed your fingers impatiently as you waited for Sam and Bucky, moments passing and feeling like an eternity. Then, Walker’s earlier words resurfaced in your mind: “I’ll be outside.” A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of your lips and you planned a way to pass the time.

Grabbing the box of donuts, you checked your appearance in a nearby window. You had decided you would take matters into your own hands, whether Bucky liked it or not. With confidence, you took long strides out to the street, ready to inject a little excitement into the new Captain’s life.

Leaning against the wall of the police station, you couldn’t resist the urge to test the waters with Walker, you cleared your throat to grab his attention. Sending him a smile as he looked over, you raised the box of donuts.

“Thought you boys might be hungry,” you bit your lips slightly as Walker started to make his way over to you. “You know, I worked right under Steve,” you said coyly, a glint of mischief flashed in your eyes as you looked up at him.

His interest had piqued as he looked down at you, his hand coming up to rest on the wall just left of your head. “Oh yeah?” he questioned, your comment about him not being your Cap earlier must have left his mind as he fell for your game.

A sly smile played on your lips as you nodded, “Oh yeah, we were real close,” a part of you was gagging at the thought of you and Steve even acting like you were something, however, you were too good of an agent to let it show. A smirk formed on Walker’s face, and he began to lean in closer to you. Your hand brushed over the fabric of his suit, “I always love the stars and stripes.”

Walker’s smirk widened, neither of you sensed Sam and Bucky making their way out of the station until Hoskins sirened the police car, grabbing their attention.

Bucky was unable to contain his anger when he saw you practically pressed up the wall with Walker, with innocent doe eyes looking up at the blonde. Storming over, his jealousy and protectiveness took over as he grabbed you by the forearm and pulled you away.

“I said no,” Bucky growled in your ear, his voice low and authoritative. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Your jaw tightened, remaining silent as you looked up at Bucky’s scowl. It wasn’t until he turned around to join the conversation between Sam, Walker, and Hoskins, that you released a breath. You stood behind Bucky slightly, eyes never leaving the shield that scraped to Walker’s back. “I’ll get that shield,” you mumbled under your breath, so quiet you doubted even Bucky’s enhanced hearing would have picked up on it.

After disagreeing with Walker, the three of you began walking back to the hotel. Sam and Bucky discussed a plan as you ate another donut.

“We’re gonna go see Zemo,” you heard Sam confess as they halted in the middle of the street. You practically spat the donut out of your mouth in surprise.

“Zemo?!” you hissed incredulously toward them.

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #i cant #i cant read your mind notes #i cant read your mind fic #tfatws #tfatws bucky'#the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barne #bucky barnes x y/n

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suhkusa · 1 month

Text

CW. ANGST

Sakusa is nervous. Extremely.

For many reasons but more so because this “hangout” the two of you are at right now is too intimate that it borders on the title of a “date”. He wouldn’t mind that, but it’s not what he called it when he asked to meet up.

Another reason being that he’s going to ask you out today, he looks down at his phone’s lock screen, in approximately 33 minutes. He doesn’t know why he chose a time, maybe something that his horoscope said.

He sits across from you on a soft throw blanket he pulled from his storage closet. Laid in front of the two of you are many of your favorite foods that he has learned of from the past month together.

Sakusa doesn’t have much doubt that you’ll say no. You had shown interest from the very beginning, and while there were some obstacles, the two of you overcame together and ended up getting closer than he had expected.

“Omi, are you okay?” your voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiles.

“The weather is a bit more chillier than the weather app had predicted, huh?” you look off into the distance.

He doesn’t think so. In fact, he feels warmer because of how flustered he is. Nonetheless, he still agrees with the nod of his head, “Yeah, do you have a jacket?”

You cover your mouth as you finish the food in your mouth, “Mm, yeah, it’s in the car. Do you mind if I grab it?”

He raises his eyebrows in approval, reaching in his pocket to pull out his car keys, “Did you want me to come with you?”

“Nono, you should eat some of the foods before it cools down, I’ll be quick,”

The two of you offer a smile to one another before you quickly make your way to his car.

Ah, maybe he should tell Jane he’s about to ask her out. She hadn’t responded to his other texts, but maybe she didn’t see the notification.

IMOAsukas: I’ve got flowers in the trunk that I’m going to give to her after the date. When she comes back from the car I’m going to ask her. I’M SCARED [image attachment]

He laughs at his message before clicking send. To think he liked this online stranger a while ago. Crazy, right?

Crazy is what he thinks when he hears the MysMatch notification noise. Sakusa thinks he’s hallucinating as he looks around to find where it came from, had Jane texted back already? When he looks at his own device, the notification center is bare.

His eyes catch on your phone. You had MysMatch, too? All he does is lift your phone. But he couldn’t see what the notification said.

[MysMatch: 1 notification]

Coincidence, maybe?

He double checks to see if you were around. To double check his theory, he sends another keyboard spam to thewurldismine. Sakusa stares back at your phone after the message goes through.

[MysMatch: 2 notification]

And then another. And another. Each time the same jingle met his ear.

You were Jane.

Your phone slips from his hand.

“Hey,” his eyes snap up at you, you were clothed in a thick jacket now, “There’s this really cute pond over there, we should—”

“You’re Jane, aren’t you?”

He observes your facial expression as it goes to a shocked look then forces itself to go back to normal.

“W-What? Who’s Jane?” you ask, nervousness written all over your tone and face.

“Did you know?” he asks, and you just look away, “You did, didn’t you?”

Sakusa Kiyoomi feels like a fool.

“You did this to manipulate me into getting with you, huh? Is that what this was?” his voice is accusatory, and it makes all the blood drain from your face.

“No- No— Kiyoomi, that’s not what-”

“You really had me going, you know? But I should’ve known from the start,” he’s getting up, gathering his stuff. “To think I really liked you,”

He’s not even sparing you one last look before he’s walking away.

Leaving you alone. And in his place, exactly where he sat, lies your phone.

[MysMatch: 7 notifications] displayed on the screen.

Fuck.

SECRET ALLIANCE — CRASHING OUT

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

y/n cried the whole car ride to tsukishima’s house then knocked out

when tsukishima arrived at the park y/n was just sitting on the picnic blanket slowly putting things away

sakusa feels so betrayed but even so regrets leaving y/n behind

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu smau #sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa smau #raeworks #hq angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fanfic #haikyuu x reader smau #hq smau

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fukcnoplease · 6 months

Text

Things always go wrong Pt 4

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt5

They had been in a dark tunnel for a long time before the batcar finally slowed down. Signal had been typing at his forearm while it projected something for nearly the entire drive. Dani noticed the light signaling the end of the tunnel and stopped breathing.

The tunnel opened up into a massive cave, covered floor to ceiling in towering stalactites and stalagmites. Everywhere except the road that seemed to float in the middle of it all.

As they went deeper, platforms started to emerge from the walls. Dani stared at the cars, and even a few planes, that sat on the massive shelves. If they had looked smaller she wouldve thought they were toys on display. Eventually they stopped in the center of a massive open room. Was it a room if the walls and ceiling were a cave? And if you could park a car in it and still have massive open space? Maybe this was just a fancy garage.

Storage systems were tucked away on the floating platforms and there was a giant computer system at the other end of the cave. Tucker would have fainted. There was a pang of something from her core, worry maybe. Dani ignored it as she unbuckled Danny and pulled him out of the car, this time letting Signal help. He looked worse, his skin looked gray. Too gray. She was scared too much movement would make it worse.

Dani was exhausted too. She had enough ectoplasm to transform but it had taken a toll on her and she hadnt turned back yet. She wanted to lay down and sleep, maybe punch something, but she kept that to herself. Danny needed her right now.

She tried to maneuver him into a more comfortable position but before she was comfortable she felt Danny be lifted off her. Panicking, she spun and threw a hard punch. Batman grunted and took a few steps back, pulling away from her. With Danny still in his arms.

It was surprising enough that he had stayed standing after taking a punch from Dani but she almost lost it when he moved away with Danny. He was carrying him princess style, which would have been funny if she wasnt so horrified.

“Give him back.” She growled and Batman didnt react.

“I can carry him.” Without waiting for a reply he walked towards what looked like metal cone shaped holes in the wall. Dani leapt for him, this time she really was going to hurt him.

“Wait, you piece of shit! Give him back!” Dani cried as she ran after the big bat. Her vulgarities had the intended effect and Batman turned to look at her, surprised as she leapt at him.

She was fast but just as she got her hands on Danny Batman stepped into the metal cone. Dani was enveloped in bright light and before she could even register what was happening they were in a different metal cone facing into a giant metal room.

She didnt have time to take in her new surroundings before she heard Danny gurgle. He shuddered in Batman's arms and his arms raised to grasp around his chest as he blinked his eyes open. Dani froze when she saw his eyes were entirely green, no iris or pupil, and didnt react in time to stop Danny from thrusting the palm of his hand at Batman’s face. He tumbled out of the man’s arms and landed in a heap on the floor.

He made another gurgling sound and then threw up ectoplasm all over the floor. Dani was by his side in an instant and tried to soothe him. He whipped his hands out at her and she caught his wrists. Dani felt her core scream as she held Danny back from hitting her. Why was he attacking her? This wasnt a normal injured Danny reaction. He shook violently and she whispered whatever she could think of to help calm him down. He was okay, they were safe, they were okay. As the shaking lessened into trembles he started crying, great big drops of green ectoplasm fell from his glowing eyes. Dani dropped his arms and pulled him into a hug. She felt herself spiral. She had no idea what to do. They had no way to get to Frostbite until Danny was better but she had no idea if he WOULD get better. This had never happened before. She hadn't been alive long and it hit her all at once how little she knew.

His core stuttered in a broken rhythm when she tried to harmonize with him and she gripped him tighter. She had a sudden understanding of why Danny had always been so worried about sending her off on her own.

“We need to get him to the medical center.” Batman said and Dani looked up at him. She had forgotten he had been standing there and he was rubbing his jaw where he had been hit. Rage bloomed in her chest and she glared at him. She should kill him for what he had done. That thought alone stuttered her brain into silence.

He hadn't done anything. It wasn't his fault, he didn't know this would happen. She didn't know either. She felt like she didn't know anything at all.

“No. He needs to rest. There isnt anything you can do for him anyways.” She said with venom. Batman stared at her and frowned. This she did know. There was no way they knew anything about ghosts. If they knew they were ghosts there was no way they would have saved them from the GIW. There was no way they had anything that could help them. That could help Danny.

“We can help to the best of our ability. We can give basic first aid and run tests to find out what is wrong. As soon as we know-” Batman said. Dani growled at him and he scowled as he was cut off, straightening his back to look bigger.

“You don't need to know anything. I am telling you that you can't help. What he needs is a bed and to be left alone.” Dani said, anger growing. Batman furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak on for a different voice to interject.

“Let them rest.” The interjector said. She was a tall and muscular woman with knee high boots and what looked like an armored bathing suit. Dani scrunched her face at the fashion choices and the glowing yellow lasso at her side. Ignoring those though, she was beautiful. Wavy dark hair and a striking face that was gentle in comparison to her defined muscles.

“Wonder woman.” Batman growled. Dani couldn't tell if he was being threatening or if he was just upset at being interrupted. Dani didn't really care. A part of her, pretty big part, enjoyed watching him be told what to do.

“I understand your concern, Batman, and I sympathize with it. The scene we just saw is concerning but if the information Signal sent us is to be believed then perhaps we should let them rest.” She let Batman take a breath before she turned to Danny and smiled. “Is there anything we could help you with? Your friend seems injured and we would like to help to the best of our abilities.”

Dani stared at her. She didn't really know what to say but she pulled the heaving Danny closer and shook her head.

“I can… I can handle it. He just needs a bed. And to be alone.” she said. Under the maternal gaze of Wonder woman Dani felt tiny, like a small kid who had been found alone. It was jarring to have such a caring and maternal look aimed at her. The woman just nodded at her and motioned for Dani to follow. Batman made his patented ‘hn’ sound and went off in another direction and Dani sat there, frightened and out of her depth. She didn't want to move. She wanted to close her eyes and wake up back in Amity, laughing on Sam’s bed while Danny lost miserably at smash.

“Don't worry, I can show you to an empty guest room and once your friend is settled I can show you around the watchtower.” Wonder Woman said. Dani nodded, she felt numb as she stood up, lifting Danny off the floor with her. He was awkwardly shifted so she was holding his legs and he was bent over one of her shoulders but it worked and she just hoped she didn't have to walk too far. At some point Danny had passed out again and while Dani didn't like it, it was probably more comfortable for him right now.

Thankfully Wonder Woman didn't take her too far down one of the corridors that split off the big room they were just in. She pressed a button on the wall and a door slid into the wall like a sci-fi show. Danny would have loved this place if he was awake to see it. Whatever this place was. Waves of fear suddenly crashed into her as she realized she had no idea where they were. A bunker? A secure facility? Were they even in America anymore?

Dani’s core shuddered and she took a deep breath. She could think about that when she wasn't carrying an unconscious potentially dying Danny.

She walked past Wonder Woman and into the room. There was a bed to the left of the door, a desk at the end of the small room and some American looking outlets but nothing much else. Dani dumped her ‘ambassador’ on to the bed unceremoniously. He grunted and she felt a little bad but she made up for it by tossing the covers over him equally unceremoniously. They could laugh about it when he woke up. Because he would wake up. She would make sure of it.

“Would you like for me to show you around? I can show you where the cafeteria and bathrooms are.” Wonder woman offered, hitting Dani with that disarming maternal smile again. Dani looked between her and Danny before shaking her head. She wasn't going to leave him alone. Not in an unfamiliar, potential government facility with essentially government officials.

“No thank you.” Dani said and Wonder woman gave a heartbreaking look of concern and care and Dani wanted to be swallowed by the earth. “Maybe later?” she said and Wonder woman gave her a gentle smile and nod.

“If you need anything there should always be someone just down the hall.” The woman said, pointing further down the hall and away from the only place in the building that Dani was familiar with. Maybe it was just her but the corridor looked far darker than it did just a few minutes ago but she nodded regardless. Wonder Woman gave one last smile before closing the door.

Dani slid down the side of the bed and onto the floor. She felt like there was so much going on that her brain had just gone blank. Like an overheated computer.

Time passed as she stared at the door and leaned against the metal frame of the bed. She didn't know how much time passed and she didn't really care. She wanted to just sit there for as long as she could. Maybe if she just waited Danny would get better. Or someone would come help them. Maybe Jazz would come storming through that door and she would get a great big hug and it would all be ok.

Something started buzzing and Dani jumped. She felt the vibrations again and she looked at the bed, Danny laying there still and breathing, as the bed vibrated. It took a few too many seconds for Dani to realize it was coming from the backpack still on Danny’s back. Careful she rolled Danny on to his side, facing him away from her, as she unzipped the bag and took out the ringing phone.

Eco-Terrorist was calling. A picture of Sam Manson flipping off the camera filling the screen as the device buzzed. Dani swiped to pick up and Sam’s face popped up. It made Dani jump, though Sam ignored it.

“Dani? Where is Danny? Is he okay? Where are you?” Sam asked, her voice stern but full of worry and Dani almost started crying.

“I-I don't know.” Dani said. She felt her voice wobble and she took a deep breath to center herself. Just like Jazz had taught her. Just like she had so many times before.

“What do you mean? Are you okay?” Sam watched Dani take some more calming breaths and frowned, “Tucker and I just got to Gotham. We are heading to my apartment now. Do you think you can meet us there if I send you the address?” She kept her voice gentle as she asked and Dani wiped her eyes.

“I don't know. We got chased into Gotham and cornered in an alley. Danny… Danny collapsed and I didnt know what to do. Some of the bat people showed up and helped and then batman showed up and then he said he would help and i didnt know what to do and I followed him and I know you aren't supposed to follow strangers, of course I know, I travel all the time! But he took us through a portal or something and Danny freaked out and now I don't know where we are but there was another lady and she helped and-” Dani felt tears on her cheeks but she just kept talking until Sam cut her off.

“Batman took you somewhere?” Sam asked and before Dani could nod she heard Tucker scream: “BATMAN TOOK YOU!?” and she flinched away from the phone. There was a smack and some cursing and Dani could have almost laughed. If it wasn't for the groan and rustle as Danny moved to look at the phone in Dani’s hands.

“Danny?” she whispered but the boy didn’t respond. His eyes weren't all green anymore, now just the irises glowed, but they weren't focusing on anything.

“Is that Danny? Is he alright?” Sam asked over the phone and Danny moved again. His core let out an uneven shudder and he groaned in pain, falling back onto the bed. He was facing Dani now but his eyes were scrunched closed and he was clutching his chest.

“Hello? Is everything ok?” Sam asked, her voice more concerned than it was before and Dani snapped back to the video call, blinking.

“Uhm, I think- I think he hurt his core but I-I dont know how?” Dani said and turned back to watch Danny as he tried to breathe through whatever pain he was dealing with.

“Hey!” Sam called and both of the halfas turned their gaze to the phone, “We can handle that, ok? If you can get him to my apartment we have the resources to help. Can you do that?”

Dani nodded but frowned.

“I can try, but Batman really didn't want to let Danny be. I don't know if I can convince him to let us leave.”

“Is there anyone else you can ask? Can you convince someone else to let you leave?” Sam asked and Dani hummed. There was Wonder Woman and she seemed more than willing to help. There was also whoever was just down the hall but that was a gamble. Maybe if she asked for help finding Wonder Woman? Dani worked through the possibilities in her head and Sam gave a small smile.

“Look, we have to go. I need to call Jazz and update her but if anything changes text me or Tucker and if things go south call me, ok?” Sam said. Dani nodded and Sam waved bye before hanging up. Thoughts and plans raced through Dani’s head as she tried to figure out what to do. She could play up the young child act if the person seemed kind enough or lean into the royalty act if they looked gullible enough. Maybe she could even use the ancient ghost trick if the child act didn't work.

Dani took a deep breath and stood up. Danny needed help fast and spending too much time building up plans, or courage, was not something she could afford. She turned and clicked the button on the wall, the door sliding open.

The hallway stretched to her left and right and looked even darker now that wonder woman wasn't there. Dani took a shaky breath and stepped out. She moved to keep going but glanced back one last time to check on Danny. He had closed his eyes again and his breathing had evened out. She closed the door and hoped no one would try anything while she was gone. He would be fine.

The dark corridor didn't seem as oppressive now that she was actually walking through it but she still rushed. The corridor ended in another open room, this one more of a lounge with couches and seating a few low tables and a giant window for one wall.

A window that opened to the massive expanse of space. Earth a curved globe below her.

Holy shit.

They were in space. They weren't in America. They were on a giant space station. In space. Dani almost choked as she stared into the endless array of stars. Her legs almost gave out as her thoughts crashed into another. They were in space. How would they get home? How would they get to Gotham? How had she not noticed? No wonder Batman had been so confident about the GIW not finding them. How could anyone find them? Danny would be ecstatic. Danny would be heartbroken. He would have no recollection of being in space but he still would have been there.

Dani had never been to space before. Dani had heard of how he had flown up to the edge of the earth's atmosphere when he had had a particularly bad day. He said it had been the most beautiful view he had ever seen.

Dani watched the cool colors of the earth swirl below her and the sparkling blanket of stars beyond that. It was beautiful, and she wondered if Danny would have been able to tell her about the constellations. She wanted to hear him talk again. Bright and excited and way too fast to understand.

“Are you lost?” A voice said and she turned to see a man dressed in blue and red with a big S on his chest. He was big, as big as batman and had a big cape hanging from his shoulders.

“Do you know where Wonder Woman is?” She asked, completely monotone. The man stared at her in surprise.

“No… but I can find her for you. Do you need her for something? Are you ok?” He asked, looking concerned as he approached her. He kind of reminded her of a big bear. Dangerous, sure, but also friend-shaped.

“I… I need to go home?” she said. It wasn't supposed to be a question. The shock of being in space had factory reset Dani’s brain and she felt eerily calm. Her emotions barely registered as she watched the man try and figure out what was going on.

“I see. Do you.. Know why you’re here by any chance?” He asked and Dani nodded solemnly.

“Batman kidnapped me.” She said. Her core hummed in amusement as she watched the man splutter and struggle to find something to say to that.

“Are- Is he- Are you his newest ward?” The caped man asked and Dani stared at him. Now equally confused.

“No?” Dani said, “Sorry, does he normally kidnap kids?”

“What? No! Well, not usually?” The man fumbled to explain and Dani was suddenly struck by how casually Batman had gotten them in his car and dragged them into, not just his cave, but also an entire space station.

“Holy shit,” Dani said, “I'm in a secondary location.”

Helloooo This week has been actually awful so Im sorry if the quality has gone down hill :/ I probably wont be able to post anything for a while because so much has been happening and I havent been able to sit down and write much

But Im gonna do my best ! And I hope you still enjoy!!

#danny phantom #dani phantom #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #fanfic #batfam #Dani is both 4 and 16 #Bruce has a reputation haha #please dont follow strangers through portals or into cool bat cars #kinda shit #Sam and Tucker showed up!#Danny is out of commission until I say otherwise #for fun #creative writing #long post

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florencemtrash · 1 year

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river.

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back.

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.”

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?”

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder.

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath.

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.”

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.”

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.”

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!”

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards.

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams.

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped.

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened.

“No… oh no.”

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour.

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone.

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis.

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-”

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!”

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.”

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side.

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.”

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.”

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask.

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension.

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web.

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?”

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience.

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?”

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly.

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return.

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.”

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client.

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down.

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss.

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly.

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls.

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh.

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you?

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.”

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space.

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.”

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great.

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!”

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground.

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background.

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization.

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps.

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes.

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company.

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.”

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him.

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by.

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity.

And in this one…

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe.

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.”

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?”

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.”

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel.

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.”

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up.

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head.

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?”

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities.

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.”

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.”

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.”

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face.

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.”

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.”

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.”

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches.

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.”

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.”

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point.

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?”

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.”

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face.

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.”

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.”

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.”

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.”

“That would be preferable.”

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.”

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address.

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.”

And it would be good for you to see her again.

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him.

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

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_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

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