#how is he supposed to heal and be ok

[cowboybirdie]

i wanted to write an angsty normal fic a couple months ago about how i was perceiving his character arc going. i was hoping id be wrong, but i ended up being totally right and im upset!

bc he’s finally seeing how undervalued he is to the team. he’s realizing that linc, taylor, and scary—really linc/taylor and linc/scary—are tight and he’s forgotten. he’s rarely included, his ideas get shot down, they make fun of him for always wanting to be kind and loving hard and wanting what’s best for the people he cares about. linc is like… perpetually putting normal down bc i think he has a morality superiority complex. like none of you, NONE OF YOU! would have made it this far on your “heroes journey” without normal!!!!

he CHOSE to take his sisters place even though he found out the cost, that he wasnt wanted, and that he was just a disappointment for not being special. he CHOSE to stay and support all of you even when he was constantly rejected and put down by friends and crushes and parents. he CHOSE all of them, regardless.

they’re setting up the scary/normal arcs how they set up awakening the doodler and it’s fucking killing me. scary is learning to open up with love, while normal is learning to shut down with hate.

im worried about normal.

[arolesbianism]

I have been playing beastieball and first of all very good game second of all smth smth Olivia Broussard

[depresseddepot]

me: hey so one of the three cats has diarrhea but I need to figure out who. can you keep an eye on your cat, because he only really comes down here to use the litter box so I can't watch how he's acting like I can the others

my mother: wh.......huh........... .? "keep an eye on him"...........i mean............ill try.......how am i expected to do that......................do i just "look" at him.....?. "pay attention to him..?"......i don't think i can do that.......... .you're being so fucking dramatic actually. this fork becoming dirty after i ate using it is your fault too

[thisdudedoesntexist]

I had a fic idea but don't know where to go with it, so if you want to expand on anything feel free.

So, Danny's finally an adult who's off to college at Gotham (the STEM there is crazy for how many supervillains have doctorates). Since Vlad actually took the time to heal and grow past his issues and turned into the crazy Bi uncle he was supposed to be, Danny's got his college paid for.

In the form of $50,000 and an kinda ok motel near the upper west side.

He tried asking his former nemesis why he's done this but Vlad just told him it's so he has some "pocket change and experience".

Danny's been spending the past few weeks aceing his his STEM middling at literature and upgrading the motel into something actually decent.

His business seem to be attracting the strangest living too. That's saying something since he's got ghostly and living guests. Danny knew this place was cursed but still feels surprised every time they show up.

1st: A nice lesbian couple came on the first night cause one with green-ish skin named Pam according to the pale lady named Harley felt the vegetation get really excited when he came. He had about an hour of questioning on Ectology and who Undergrowth was.

2nd: A 10ft tall crocodile man named Waylon came in cause of Harley's recommendation, he looked like he'd run any moment. That night he made sure his staff wouldn't mistreat people like him and by the time croc left there was a glowing sign by the door about how different guests are to be treated with respect no matter how they look.

3rd: THE Red hood showed up asking about a kid who worked there. Her name's Zoe and when her parents reaction to their kid being trans was to kick her out of the house at 17. She biked to the motel to get some rest before catching the bus out of Gotham, got a job checking people in instead and has since found an actual family with the help of Amorpho a social worker Danny met a few years ago.

4th: the most recent event was when Gotham's play boy prince and his cousin Kate Kane stumbled in during his shift at the front desk. Mr. Wayne was pretending extremely well to be drunk while his cousin was wrangling him awkwardly. If Danny didn't have super senses he wouldn't have noticed he was acting, or the tracker added to his cuff when he was semi-forced to shake "Bruce, just Bruce. Everyone's always so stiff." Hand. The tracker had little legs and crawled under his shirt, creepy and fascinating.

[lovelyyys]

the reader is a mutant like logan but more cat like which everyone thinks that they would hate each other which is proven wrong by the marks logan leaves on her neck after a wild night

ok i went a little wild with this so uh, enjoy!

(female reader, enemies to lovers? 18+!!!)

For the most part you two were alike. Well. For the most part. You were like him, although your claws didn’t retract from your knuckles. Instead they came from your nails. Just like a cat: People had expected the two of you to get along well knowing the fact that you were similar. When you two first met he simply introduced himself as, “Hi I’m Logan.” As if that would suffice. You didn’t know why he was so lukewarm towards you, almost as if he felt threatened by you. Ego problem maybe?

The team along with you were in the lounge area, everybody talking and drinking after a mission. You stood off to the side minding your own business. Drinking a beer, you didn’t know why. You couldn’t even get drunk since your body filtered alcohol out as poison so maybe you could get tipsy for a millisecond but that was it. You had been looking at a painting in the room, not before feeling the presence of somebody behind you. “How come you don’t drink hard? Like whiskey.” A gruff voice said from behind you that you had immediately recognized as that egotistical jerk. “I don’t like the taste.” You had answered, turning to face him. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “That’s a shame.” You didn’t answer, looking at his facial features and such. He took his own cup pressing it to his lips. Downing his drink, before slamming it on the table next to you.

“You know I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong hand. It was just a little weird meeting somebody like me.” Ah. So it was because he has an ego problem. “Yeah I thought so.” You said, not before finishing off your beer and putting it next to his empty glass. “You can’t get drunk right?” He asked you suddenly. You shook your head, “No my healing factor doesn’t allow it.”

“So we’re more alike than I thought.” He laughed, you smiled. Maybe you two were more alike than you two thought. “Uh, you know we’re on the same mission tomorrow.” Why was he even talking to you? “Yeah I saw on the board earlier.” That was the whole conversation.

After the mission you got a nasty cut on your thigh, your suit being cut open. Your leg bleeding. You had gotten back to the mansion. Logan offering to help clean you up. Why not? What could be the worse that could happen? He was just trying to break the ice after all…

He brought you to the medbay, grabbing a bit of gauze and rubbing alcohol. You sat down on the bed, watching him prep the materials. You took off the pants of your suit so he could clean it better. “Come closer.” He said, curling his finger towards you. You shuffled over to him. His breath warm against your body. “This is going to hurt.” He warned, pressing the cold cotton pad onto your skin. The alcohol stinging. His jaw was locked, eyes hardening as he watched your expression as you hissed at the pain. He held his hand on your shoulder to reassure you — not before you muffled your cry’s of pain into his neck. Holding onto his back. Your nails digging in.

The pain was a 10. Possibly an 11. You started panting a bit, whimpering into his neck. In an instant he moved his hand down from your shoulder to your hip in order to steady you. He cleared his throat, his voice a bit hesitant. “Stop moving like that.”

“It hurts.” You cried out. “Just stop.” He whispered in your ear. How were you supposed to? Oh. Oh…

You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours as he bit his cheek. As if he was trying to hold back from saying more. “Fuck it.” He growled. Tossing the cotton pad in the trash. Moving your legs up onto the table. Getting right in between your thighs, his hands snaking down towards your panties. Tugging them right off as he gripped your legs once more. Putting them to rest on his muscular shoulders. He pushed you down onto the table, going into kiss you roughly. His hands holding your face. “You know I always liked you in a way.” You smirked.

“Well now you know in what way.” He laughed, panting a bit before kissing you again. His tounge exploring your mouth. His hands went to his pants pulling them along with his boxers down. His hard dick jumping out, ready to be inside of you. Ready to fill you up with his cum. Over and over again. So much for introductions.

He grabbed his thick member, pushing it up against your dripping wet pussy. You looked up at him, his face had a smirk on it. You nodded, letting him push up into you, he didn’t take it slow. Wasting no time, rolling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you as he held your jaw. Forcing you to look at him. You let out a moan. Staring into his eyes. “You like this?”

“Harder. Harder!” You moaned suddenly, his eyes darkening as he fucked up into your sopping wet cunt at a brutal pace. Groaning with every single fucking thrust. He pulled the zipper down from your suit. Your breasts there on display for him to see. He hummed in approval, squeezing on one of your breasts as he continued ramming into you. His cock kissing your cervix, the pleasure overwhelming. The familiar tightening in your stomach building up. “You close?” He asked you. You simply nodded, your breasts jiggling up and down with every thrust. “Me too. Want me to cum inside this pussy?” “Mhm.” He grinned. His pace somehow getting faster as if the pace before wasn’t enough for him. “Cum with me.” He whined. Kissing you once more.

You quickly clenched around him, milking him for all his worth. His hot cum filling inside you quickly. He continued fucking you, the cum leaking out. The overstimulation quickly spreading. “Logan!”

“Be good for me you can take it.” He moaned, sucking on your neck his hips never slowing as he drew out another orgasm from you. Again and again.

His hairy base tickled against your clit, stimulating it. He reached his thumb down rubbing on the bud. “Logan please.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

“It’s too much-.” You whined grabbing onto his dog tags with all the strength you had left. You read it. “Wolverine eh?” You laughed a bit. Moaning. “Shut up. You’re a fucking kitty cat.” He snarled. His thrusts never faltering.

It’s safe to say you didn’t sleep at all that night.

In the morning you were in the kitchen making yourself a coffee to wake up from the nights events. The team there as well making themselves breakfast. You hadn’t noticed the hickey Logan left on your neck until somebody had pointed it out. “Hey what’s that on your neck?” Scott peeped up. You raised your brows a bit looking in the reflection of the coffee machine. “Uh.”

“Something I left for her to remember me by.” A gruff voice said.

That egotistical jerk.

hope you enjoyed !! more to come, xoxo!

[beloveds-embrace]

🕸️ anon

ok but omegaveese au…being placed with graves and shadow company after brass rolls out an initiative that requires omegas to be fully integrated into pack life (not just on paper to get by the red tape), everything seems fine but there’s always an undercurrent of false niceties and lack of trust and connection with anyone, tensions rising because no one is successful in trying to have a breakthrough with you, being thrown out with barely any warning, the ink on the paperwork still drying, brass scrambling to fix the fuck up and preventing the potential shitstorm that would occur if people hear about an omega in the ranks without a pack attached, (all of this, however, happens at the expense of your emotional, physical, and mental well-being) getting filtered from pack to pack with nothing lasting long enough to stick, filtering from place to place, having no stability or solid ground beneath your feet, and as much an those around you try, it’s just not enough to even start to put yourself back together, and everything just feels wrong, withering away under the scrutiny and stares, doing your job because you’d be damned to let all the years go to waste and it’s the only thing keeping you sane, and still every other aspect of you is just shy of shattering under the stress. being put with a pack that has to work in proximity to the 141, the boys just observing how shit everyone treats you, how they don’t care enough to see this hollow thing you’ve become. they don’t understand how anyone can watch you waste away, prominent bruising showing during sparring practice, never taking food from the mess, not initiating or accepting much physical contact with anyone, spending time holed up in nigh impossible places to get away from everything even after grueling mission, in their eyes that just won’t do, and they’ll do anything to make you see how worth it you are

This is sooo good omfg?? Bless you 🕸️ anon you are a godsend 😩😩💕

They noticed you immediately.

Not because you demanded attention- no, you did the opposite. You wove through the world like smoke, curling into the cracks, slipping beneath notice, existing on the fringes of your so-called pack without ever being part of it.

But they had sharp eyes. And what they saw made something cold settle in their bones.

At first glance, you were exactly what the brass wanted- an Omega fully integrated into a pack. You wore their insignia, stood in formation, obeyed orders with the quiet efficiency of someone who had long since stopped expecting praise. But beneath the surface, nothing was right.

Because packs were supposed to be loud. Not specifically in sound, but in presence. In the way they hovered, protected, scent-marked, ensured their Omega never felt alone. Yet there you were- untouched, unscented, unclaimed. A specter in your own unit, barely acknowledged unless duty required it.

Ghost noticed first; he was trained to see the details others missed, a sniper even off-field: the way your movements were a fraction too slow after a hard hit, how your bruises lingered longer than they should, how no one ever came to your side to check in, to scent-mark, to ensure you healed. The way you picked yourself up every time, shoulders squared, face blank, moving forward as if pain was just another part of your uniform. As if it was something you’d long since grown to accept.

Soap noticed next.

It was the mess hall that gave you away. Not once did you take a tray. Not once did you join your packmates at a table, and not once did they bother checking on you. Instead, you lingered at the edges, offering nods in place of conversation, taking a seat only when necessary. And when you thought no one was looking? You left, empty-handed, disappearing before anyone could call attention to it.

Not like anyone in your supposed pack would have called attention to it, even if they’d seen it.

Gaz noticed in the downtime next.

You never relaxed, even after grueling missions. The others settled into easy camaraderie, laughing, scent-marking, reinforcing bonds that had been built over time. But you? You vanished, slipping away like an afterthought, retreating to places no Omega should have to seek out for comfort- storage rooms, dark corners, anywhere that allowed you to fold in on yourself, away from the world.

He hated how no one even put a sliver of attempt to pull you close.

Price, thus, saw everything.

He saw the way your scent never settled- how it wavered, thin and diluted, as if your body refused to attach itself to a place that was never home. He saw the careful neutrality in your expression, the polite, distant way you spoke to your packmates, as if keeping them at arm’s length was the only thing keeping you safe.

It doesn’t take long to dig up the truth.

Brass fucked up.

This was supposed to be a new era. One where Omegas weren’t just names on a roster, weren’t just passed around for paperwork’s sake. They were supposed to be integrated, bonded, wanted. But no one had accounted for what happened when it didn’t work.

What happened when an Omega never fit; when a pack saw them as an obligation rather than a need.

When the brass, in their infinite wisdom, decided to solve the problem by shuffling you around like spare parts. Filtered from unit to unit, never long enough to settle, never given the chance to belong.

And worst of all? You’d adapted.

Not by fighting, not by demanding more. But by shrinking, folding in on yourself until you were nothing but the quiet echo of what an Omega in a safe, happy pack was supposed to be.

Just there.

The pack that surrounded you now- they didn’t even see it. Didn’t even try to see it. Didn’t see the way you moved like something brittle, your frame wiry with stress, dark circles permanent beneath your eyes. Didn’t notice how you flinched away from casual touches, how you never leaned into their space, never initiated anything that would suggest you trusted them.

And the worst part?

They didn’t care enough to fix it.

They let you waste away in silence, let you wither under scrutiny, let you fight battles alone that no one was meant to fight.

But they saw you.

They saw the way your fingers trembled during sparring when you thought no one was looking. They saw the way you curled into yourself at night, scent so faint it barely registered, as if your body had long since given up trying to find something familiar. They saw the bruises you never spoke about, the exhaustion you never complained about, the way you never asked for anything.

And in their eyes, that just wouldn’t do; you weren’t meant to be hollow, nor were you meant to be discarded.

You were meant to be held.

So if no one else was going to fix this- if no one else was going to remind you of what it meant to be wanted- then they damn well would.

Before the mission with your current pack was nearing an end, Brass receives a request from John to have you transferred to them.

[iminlovebutimkeepinitlowkey]

Rafe with a girlfriend who has chronic migraines Part 2!

He’d give up all the money in the world for you. He doesn’t care about the hundreds of dollars he spends on expensive memory foam pillows and body pillows. Rafe swears he’s never felt such heartbreak than when you silently cried against him in complete and utter agony. He buys the $400 cefaly machine and pays for the overpriced at home acupuncture. He does yoga with you in the garden because any other form of exercise triggers a migraine instantly. He never gets upset or disappointed when you cancel plans because of a migraine.

He takes the best care of you, he knows to take you to a dark room to lay in and is immediately at your side with an ice pack and some water. He’s always got your meds on hand and snacks for you to take them with. His freezer is stocked with TheraIce headache hats in every color made. He buys the fanciest diffuser he can possibly find to make his room smell like lavender while you sleep the pain away. He gets you a stanly cup, and an owala bottle, and a hydro flask, and a yeti, just to get you to drink more water.

Hell, he even buys you an immensely overpriced lapis necklace after reading about its supposed history of healing migraines.

He constantly brags about how brave his precious girlfriend is, how strong she is. Topper broke his arm once and Rafe’s reaction was: “Ok and? Y/n has migraines everyday and still gets up and does shit, get the fuck up.”

You are his everything, his other half, his twin flame. And he will do absolutely anything to make life easier for you<3

My Masterlists!!

[bullet-prooflove]

Because Of You: Jack Abbott x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @noxytopy @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

The first time you take Jack's pants off, he had hoped it would be a seduction. There would be music, romance and passion, lots of passion. He doesn’t expect it to occur to because he’s blind as fuck, struggling to climb out of his scrubs. In addition to the temporary vision issues, he has vertigo which is how he ends up on the floor tangled up in his trousers, praying for God to end his life.

“My dicks out isn’t it?” He mutters when you step into his bedroom to find him, grasping the carpet in a hope that the room stops spinning.

“Yea.” You say frankly as you grip the leg of his scrubs and pull them the rest of the way off his body. “But it’s in the top three of ones I’ve seen today so you should be proud.”

He laughs despite himself as he reaches down and rearranges his underwear, hopefully covering his assets.  

“If you can get my sweatpants to my knees I can do the rest.” He tells you, listening to you foraging around the drawers of his dresser.

The plan was that you’d drive him home, get him inside and leave but you’d thwarted that the moment you watched him walk into the sideboard and curse up a storm at the bruise that was now forming on his thigh.

“Ok, we have pants.” You tell him, your hand gently resting on his ankle as you guide his through the hole. You repeat the action, getting the elastic waistband half way up his thighs before he takes over.

“I’m not ready to do the shirt just yet.” He tells you because already he’s exhausted from the whole rigmarole of this thing. Concussions are no fucking joke.

“Alright.” You say and he can hear rustling above him before the comforter is draped over his body like a weighted blanket. Your palm gently cups the nape of his neck, fingers smoothing over his burnished silver curls as you help him to lift his head just enough to slip a pillow underneath it.

“When you’re ready to move I can put it all back on the bed.” You tell him as you settle down beside him on top of the sheets. You exhale, long and slow and he can feel your body starting to relax alongside him.

“You’re sleeping over aren’t you?” He mumbles because the tiredness, it’s claiming him too, dragging him under. “I couldn’t make you leave if I wanted to?”

“Hm.”  You make an affirmative noise.

“Faye.” He says after a minute. “Get under quilt, the temperature supposed to drop tonight.”

“You’re sure?” You ask him. His comfort, it’s always been paramount to you and he finds that somewhat endearing. It’s been a long time since someone’s cared about him and even then it was never like this.

“Yea, I’m sure.” He feels the comforter shifting before you take up residence beside him, the heat from your body graces his skin as your breathing starts to even out. He can’t remember the last time he slept with someone, five years at least he thinks.

You mumble in your sleep as you roll onto your side, tucking yourself against his body and Jack’s senses are suddenly flooded with the scent of daffodils. It reminds of spring mornings before he went to war, of sunshine and happiness, all the things he lost along with his innocence.

They’re coming back he realises as he lies there in the darkness, all those good things he’s been missing, he’s starting to feel them again.

It’s because of you, he thinks, as your palm comes to rest in the space where his heart resides in his chest. All of this healing, it’s because of you.

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Famiglia

Mob Boss! Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of death

Previous chapter

Masterlist

A/n: Ok this chapter is a lot shorter than I usually do but it’s because sort of a transition chapter. I promise to be quicker about getting the next chapter out. Thanks for reading!

____________________________________________

Nico’s got way too much on his mind.

In the months since Switzerland, it’s like he can never catch up. Updates on Luca attempting to track down Rino come in, though they lead nowhere. The wound on his arm from Vancouver heals and Jack and Luke move on like nothing happened. The Pinterest board for wedding planning grows and grows, lists of vendors and themes get tacked up to the fridge or left in the drawer of his desk. You fully take up your role with Hischier Enterprises, settle into the spot in the Devils that’s been waiting for you. And that night you saved Nico from the Rangers? The one that sealed your readiness for said role comes back to Nico more than he’d like.

Small rumors of contracts and deals that he doesn’t like, the paranoid behavior of Trouba, all of it putting Nico on edge. Even though nothing has really happened in months, he knows something is off.

Something he should be looking into right now.

Except he can’t look through Haula’s last report of the Rangers with you like this. Because no matter how pressing work is, how direly he needs to focus on that, you’re always first, always on the forefront of his mind.

You come first.

In every way possible.

“I’ve got you baby, come on.” He grunts, splaying his hand over your belly, thumb stretching down to your puffy clit. He starts drawing tight little circles, groaning when your pussy tightens around him, both of you so close to the edge. You first though, you come first.

“Supposed to be a reward for you,” you pant against his mouth, heavy eyes filled with laughter underneath the arousal darkening them. “Didn’t stall once today.”

Nico laughs, breathless and rough and kisses you again, his left arm pulling you in closer. Not that you weren’t already close to him, cramped in the backseat of the new Camaro that goes parked in the garage at the house.

His learning car, you’d called it. Even if it’s far too nice and expensive to be a car one learns to drive in. You loved it at the dealer, said it was just like the one you learned to drive and how could he say no to the sight of you in the passenger seat, smiling all pretty for him.

“M’not going to now either,” he promises, puckering a line of wet kisses to your jaw, following a path to the sensitive spot under your ear. “So you better fucking drench me first baby.”

You moan at his biting tone, the command a low rumble in your ear and you wrap your arms around his neck, head tilting forward to press against his temple. You bounce on him only a handful more times, grinding into the pad of his thumb with it before your whole body goes taut.

Still pulsing on him, Nico buries his face in the crook of your neck, arms around your waist and holds you still as he fucks up into you, chasing his own high. You go all soft and limp in his hold, fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck and your voice is sweet in his ear when you speak.

“Please come for me Nico, need it baby, please.”

He comes with a shudder, chest arching into yours as he trembles with it. You keep combing through his hair, the other hand running down his back that grew damp with sweat against the leather seats. Not the most comfortable of feelings, but in his defense he didn’t think about the interior of the car for this purpose when he bought it.

“That’s it Neeky,” you coo, kissing at his hairline all tender and warm, like him painting your pussy white in the back of a car is the most romantic thing he’s ever done. “Feels so good.”

He hums in satisfaction, brain still a little too fuzzy to say anything right now. Instead he presses his lips to your neck and shoulder, passing over your slipping bra strap as he goes.

If you’d told Nico weeks ago that his new car would have more miles in the back seat than on the road, he wouldn’t have been shocked, but he probably would’ve laughed. At least before thinking practically about the fact that his legs are a little too long for the backseat and unlike the bigger SUVs, he can’t lay you down in this one.

“Mmm need to head home soon,” he sighs, slumping back into the seat, his hands holding your waist lovingly. You shift back on his thighs, sucking in a breath at the drag of his softening cock on your sensitive walls.

“I don’t want to go home,” you mumble, trailing your hands down his chest, one pausing to catch the pendant resting there. “Want to stay here with you.”

Nico smiles, cupping the side of your face and drawing you in for a kiss. If there’s one thing you haven’t liked about how packed Nico’s schedule has been lately, it’s that the downtime you used to spend getting lunch with him or dropping off coffee or checking in after jobs is now filled.

It’s been rare that he’s gotten to see you during the work day and even if he’s been lenient with allowing you to make him late in the mornings, it doesn’t make up for it. He misses you, you miss him, and it’s obvious now why you want to keep him in this abandoned lot for as long as possible.

As soon as he returns the car home, he’s gotta get in the other one and head to work for the day. And you’ve got to get ready for your packed day too. He thought that these late morning driving lessons with you would quell some of that, that spending a couple hours teaching him stick and then riding him in the backseat for a job well done would be enough.

Even if this has become your new routine, and he does look forward to having you on his dick after sitting there and acting like you reminding him to hit the clutch doesn’t turn him on beyond belief, it’s not the same. For either of you.

“I’d take you with me if I could baby,” he promises, pecking at your lips again “carry you around in my pocket all day.”

You give him a girlish giggle, cheeks blooming with color as you fiddle with his pendent. “Yeah? Which pocket?”

He nudges your nose with his, humming in thought and his heart swelling in his chest when you excitedly bite at your bottom lip. “The one right here,” he decides, laying his hand over yours and dragging it over until your fingers rest over his left pec. “Nice and safe, right next to my heart.”

“What about when you’re not wearing your flannel?”

He scoffs with disbelief, “I’d wear it everyday to keep you right there baby.”

Laughing delightedly, you lean in to kiss him again, pressing your palm into his beating heart like you’re trying to reach in and physically pet at it.

“Are you really busy today?” You ask him after a beat, lips pulled down a bit as you trail your fingers over his happy trail, almost shy with it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “gotta a meeting with Lee out on the island. Then some stuff with Haula and Jonas about the Rags.”

Dejectedly, you hum. He tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping the back of your neck until you blink up at him, apprehensively still fiddling with the patch of hair on his stomach. It would tickle if he weren’t so worried about you, about how you deflated at the mention of him leaving Jersey for the day. Maybe it’s Timo being gone too, your old habits coming back and making you insecure about being without the two of them for the day. Or maybe it’s just personal, the clinginess you’ve both been trying to fight since Vancouver making you like this.

“You can call me if you need anything, you know that right?”

You nod, chest rising as you inhale deeply and puff out a strong breath of air that warms his skin underneath you.

He squeezes your neck, waits for you to melt into his hold the way you always do. “I mean it baby. Anything. Trip will be quick, S’just basic stuff and then I’ll be here all day for everything else. Here for you.”

“I know Nico,” you nod, lips twitching into a grateful smile and he draws you in so he can brush kisses the corners of it.

“Keep Moose with you all day,” he reminds, just to make himself feel better. “and Dawson too. Know you have a couple things to do without him but he stays with you for the rest, got it?”

“Yes boss,” you purr, words hot when they hit his mouth and you kiss him again. He pats at your hip in praise, nodding towards the door.

“We gotta go baby. Before I start getting hard again.”

Your eyes light up with interest, glinting mischievously and you pout your bottom lip at him. “Or we stay and have another round?”

He groans when you drag your hand over his chest, fingers brushing his nipple and you sink a little lower on his lap. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, ya know that?”

“With who?” You say teasingly, “Because the only person in charge of you is me and I really want to make you come again.”

Nico can’t argue with that one.

~~~~

A crystal glass of orange juice and champagne in hand, you sink back into the oversized chair of the nail salon, eyes fluttering shut as the mechanism massages at your upper shoulders.

“Oh you’re so right,” Nola hums, her feet swishing around in the hot water. “We did need this.”

You look over at her, smiling lazy as she clinks her glass of just orange juice with yours. The man working on your pedicure nudges your feet out of the water, resting them on a fluffy towel as he begins to file your nails down.

“When Timo’s away, the girlies will play.” You sing, the two of you giggling and sipping your drinks again. Timo’s been away for a week and a half now, off in Switzerland with Amelia again, and you’ve been distracting yourself from him abandoning you with absolutely no training and just fun.

Which works for Nola too because as the baby in her belly gets bigger, she’s gotten lax about sticking to the routine with you and Timo.

“I hope he knows he’s missing my 20 week check up,” she says, dramatically sighing. “Now he’ll never know what fruit the baby is at.”

You and Timo don’t go to Nola’s check ups with her. That’s strictly a her and Jonas thing, not that you really mind or even would want to go. Sitting in a plastic doctor’s chair and seeing something living inside of her makes you feel a little squeamish, but you’ll take any updates you can get on the fruit ratio of the baby’s size.

“What fruit is the baby at?” You ask curiously, and she laughs, twitching a little as her pedicurist takes the pumice stone to the bottom of her foot.

Proudly, she say, “This month we’re at a banana.” Her hands cup her barely there belly, whatever bump she may have hidden by the oversized linen button up she’s wearing today.

Either way it’s cute, and you’re about to tell her just that when another voice pops up from over your shoulder.

“Oh a banana sounds so good right now!”

Johnny is slumped in his chair, jeans rolled up to his calves and feet soaking in his own bubbling bath of hot water and salts. Like you, he’s got a mimosa in hand though it seems must be stronger than yours because his eyes already look heavy and a little delayed.

“We’re talking about my baby not an actual food,” Nola chimes in, narrowing her eyes at him. “You want to eat my baby John?”

He’s so relaxed, an easy smile on his lips as he simply giggles. “Nah I’m hungry,” he replies, “but for real food. Not babies.”

You can feel your own pedicurist looking from John to you, and sure enough when you peer down his eyebrows are raised.

“He doesn’t eat babies,” you explain, laughing awkwardly. “He’s new to the whole pedicure and mimosa thing.”

“And the massage chairs, holy…” he adds, practically purring as he presses into the vibrating back rest. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at him and making a mental note to not tell Nico about Johnny’s day with you.

He’s been filling in for Timo, switching with Mercer in backing you up on day-to-day stuff and acting as body guard of course. You’d imagine the sight of him slumped and buzzed on champagne, giggling every time they touch the bottom of his feet doesn’t exactly scream body guard though, especially not to Nico. Or Jonas who has also gotten weary about Nola going out with you so often the further along she gets.

Not that she cares. Jonas would have to sedate and tie her down probably to get her to stay home.

“We still have work after this Johnny,” you remind him when he requests a refill on his drink, though your tone is more amused than warning.

“Aye aye boss,” he clicks his tongue, peering down at his toes in excitement as they add a clear gloss to his pedicure. “Ooo that looks clean.”

“Who’d have thought that washing your feet works?” You joke, and he gives you a pout before looking at your own drying white toes.

“Basic color,” he comments thoughtfully, “but cute. Goes with everything so that’s cash money.”

Nola snorts. “Very cash money. Unlike my bright pink ones, huh?”

Johnny leans over you to look at her pedicure. “I like it,” he compliments, settling back in his chair and upping the massage timer.

“Figured I’d enjoy bright colors before I can no longer even see my toes.” She jokes, sipping the last of her orange juice. “What do you two have planned for the rest of the day?”

Humming, you mentally go through the list in your head. “Left the boys organizing projects at the penthouse. So I’ll take Johnny back there and leave him, pick up Luke for his appointment, then we’re all meeting around Newark for business check-ins.” You relay, checking them off on your fingers as you go.

The past few months of getting to run the legal side of the Devils has been fun. You like having more to do with your day than just train with Timo and doing odd chores around the house. Not that it wasn’t work per se, but it never felt like you were actually doing anything, actually pulling your weight.

With this though, you get to sort through project files and research on local businesses, put together potential deals. It’s almost the same process you went through with Timo to get Johnny and it’s fun, exciting.

Your little team of Devs is great too. Dawson and Luke, Alex and Johnny, Timo and you. Like you expected, they all work together well and they seem to enjoy the business side of things. Plus it’s safer for them to be on this side with you. Most of them are still young, we’re given busy work or behind the scenes stuff with Nico because he didn’t want to put them in direct danger.

They’ve got real work now, still sticking to the obligations Nico gave them of protecting you, but also getting to see the city in a new way. Face time with the people you’re supposed to be helping, looking into businesses they have an interest in.

Luke had just about died at the file Nico had half put together on a local animal shelter and while you haven’t had the chance to finish up any deal pitches yet, you know that one will be his.

“Wow, a real business gal,” Nola murmurs flirtatiously. “Nico better be careful before you get too smart for him.”

“She’s already too smart for him.” Johnny laughs, struggling in his chair to get his socks back over his feet.

“We’re equally smart,” you defend, ignoring the look Nola gives you in favor of swinging your legs to the side of the chair and slipping your sandals back on. She does the same, Johnny now yanking his jeans down his calves and shoving his feet into his sneakers.

The three of you get up, heading towards the front desk to pay. Johnny is giving you a look too, like he’s trying to tell you to give it up and admit you’re a rocket scientist compared to Nico. It’d be a lie though, so you can’t. They don’t often see all of Nico’s planning and preparations behind closed doors, see how his brain works a million miles an hour the way you do. Sure some simple stuff slips under his nose, stuff that would be considered stupid but he’s by no means dumb.

“Mr. Hischier has already paid for the services on his tab,” the receptions tells you when you approach the counter, smiling warmly. “He also left a message for John, saying next time no drinking on the job.”

Looking up from her sticky notes, she glances at Johnny who looks a little stricken.

“I’m guessing that’s you?”

Dumbly he nods. You nudge him towards the door, Nola laughing as she follows and you offer a final thanks before leaving too. The bell overhead rings as the door shuts, the warm spring air light on your skin as you step onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah alright,” Johnny huffs, “Nico is pretty smart.”

~~~~

It’s odd being back in your therapists office, especially when you’re not the one being checked in at the front, not the one filling out the mental health questionnaire, not the one being led back into the actual office.

Like you, Luke’s leg had bounced the whole time he sat waiting with you, head hanging low in that same way it had on the jet a few months ago. Today is his first real appointment, his first time genuinely coming to speak to the professional.

It’ll end up mostly being background stuff, about his childhood and what are his goals for being here. You know that from experience. And you’d told him as much, told him it’s scary and it makes you feel like shit at first but nothing he ever says in there will be held against him. The same thing Nico had told you first time he walked you in here.

When he was the one holding your trembling hand, checking you in with the receptionist, filling out forms for you because your hands wouldn’t cooperate. He even walked you to the door when they called your name, left you with a kiss on the forehead every time and a promise that’ll he be right out here.

You sit in the same spot he always sat, right up against the window that looks out onto the street. He never really people watched from what you remember, always had an AirPod in or a book with him, but you just stare out the window, watching the cars drive by and the clouds overhead move. Texting Nico about any cute dog you see walk by, let him know that Moose hasn’t once reacted to them as he lay by your feet.

Of course he was trained to not react to other dogs when he’s out with you like this, but it still makes you swim with pride when he obeys.

You spend the next 20 minutes of Luke’s appointment switching between texting Nico and watching the people outside the window. Not that you’re really seeing them, more focused on your own thoughts.

He’d come up to you only a week after you all returned from Vancouver. Him and Jack spent every night at the house, sharing the room next to Alex’s that Jack usually sleeps in himself. On the other side of the Jack and Jill bathroom sat Luke’s usual room, empty of its typical occupant.

They acted normal. Went to work every morning with Nico, hung out with the boys, bitched when you assigned them dish duty after dinner. The only thing out of place was how quiet they both were. Like their internal volumes had been turned down.

And then one night Luke found you by the patio door, waiting in the dim light for Moose to go potty so you could send him to bed and join Nico upstairs. You’d thought Luke had gone to sleep himself, maybe he had by the way his curls were sticking up but all he did was come stand next to you, take one deep breath and then speak.

“I think I want to trying seeing someone,” he murmured, gazing out the patio door even when you turned to him. “Like a doctor or whoever you saw. To talk about what happened.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to hug him, wanted to cry because after all this time he was finally looking inwards. He had seen what you’ve been carrying for him, as Nico had said, and he was ready to try carrying it himself.

Instead you nodded. “Okay, whatever you want to do Luke, I’ll make it happen.”

He nodded, lips pursing and then Moose came pattering back inside, tail flicking lazily and Luke leaned down to scratch at his ears while you locked up.

“You’ll call?” He questioned, staring a little too intently at Moose. “For me? To make an appointment.”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll go with?”

That urge to cry burned at the back of your eyes, made your throat feel dry. Luke still wasn’t looking at you, hiding behind the pretense that he just needs to examine the inside of Moose’s ear right now.

“Yeah,” you choke out, “I’ll be there.”

Then he’d straightened out, gave Moose one last pat and met your gaze. It was fleeting, just a moment of those pale hazel eyes silently thanking you before he turned back towards the stairs. You watched him go, heart thumping rapidly in your chest and once he disappeared back in his room, you tucked Moose into his bed by the couch, and practically ran upstairs to tell Nico.

You have no idea what made Luke decide that, what finalized his decision. All you know is the next morning you and Nico woke to the two brothers loudly yelling at each other and banging around in their bathroom. Completely back to normal.

The door back to the offices creaks open, Luke dragging his feet as he steps through the frame and lets the door softly click shut behind him. He heads straight towards you, shoulders a little slumped but not as downtrodden as you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” you greet him with a soft smile, climbing up from your seat. Moose follows eagerly, tail wagging as Luke comes to stand across from you. “How are you feeling?”

He purses his lips in thought, eyes roaming around the room for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine I guess. I kinda liked it.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, leaning down to pet at Moose’s head. “At least today I liked it. It was nice to talk to someone who doesn’t know me or us.”

A wide smile breaks out on your face, the dread of waiting for his reaction finally lifting from your shoulders and you feel about 10 pounds lighter.

“That’s good!” You say cheerily, and he offers a little smile. “I’m so happy for you Luke.”

“I talked about Jack,” he murmurs, glancing over his shoulder like he’s expecting someone to come rushing out and drag him away for mentioning what he revealed behind closed doors.

You don’t know what to say so you simply hum. He straightens out again, looking a little sheepish as he scratches at his hair. “Just how I love him but sometimes it’s hard having a brother like him. Like I always have to owe him something or compensate because he got us here.”

His statement shocks you a bit. You don’t have siblings, don’t know what it feels like to have another version of you basically, running around and having free will and all that. It’s easy to see why Luke would feel that way though. Jack did raise him pretty much and even with them working separately now, you’d imagine he still feels a little like he’s under Jack’s umbrella. It must be hard, feeling like you never do enough to make up for everything an older sibling did for you.

Hell, sometimes you still look at Nico and think you’ll never be able to show him how much you appreciate what he’s done for you, the life he’s given you. It’s different than siblings obviously, but it’s a similar guilt.

“You felt good talking about it?” You ask him, “Comfortable and everything?”

Certain, he nods. “Yeah I did. Thanks for coming with me.”

Reaching for him, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him forward, taking a step closer so you can wrap the arm not holding Moose’s leash around him. “Thanks for letting me,” you reply, rubbing at his back.

He hugs you back for a moment, chin on top of your head. Moose nudges at his knee, pushing him back and you both part with a laugh.

“Wanna get something to eat?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Luke smiles, eyes bright and happy as he motions for you to leave first.

“Fuck yes I do.”

~~~~

Paws pattering on the sidewalk, Moose prances his way up to the water dish outside the deli, not hesitating to stick his snout in the bowl and start drinking.

You fiddle with his leash on your belt loop, laughing when Mercer’s eyes widen at the loud lapping noises coming from the dog, water spilling out onto the concrete. Over his shoulder you see Johnny and Alex head into the open door of the boutique across the street, the little Devil horn logo decal on the front window glinting in the sun.

Lazily, Moose lifts his head, shoelaces of drool and water hanging from his snout.

“Putze, Moose.” You call lightly, his head tilting comprehendingly and then his leaning down to wipe at his face with his paws, the drool now soaked into the fur of his feet.

“That dog is stupidly smart.” Mercer says, and you beam with pride, patting the top of his snout affectionately. Then he’s pulling open the door to the Italian deli, the bell ringing overhead.

The tables are mostly empty inside, caught in the lag between lunch and dinner. You try to do monthly check-ins around this time, that way any lingering messes from early in the day can be spotted but you’re not interrupting the lunch rush.

Mrs. Sposato waves from behind the order counter, eyes brightening when she sees Moose at your feet.

“Oh there they are!” She greets, her accent still thick even though she’s one of the few in the shop that will speak English all the day. The boys in the back, including her husband, are strictly Italian. They don’t try English and they never will, at least that’s what Mr. Sposato told you. Italian is too beautiful a language.

Moose perks up, tail wagging and eyes lifting as he pretty much pulls you through the dining area and up to the counter. She rounds the edge of it, crouching down with open arms to greet the dog and he happily presents the underside of his neck to her for pets.

Mercer, standing behind you, sweeps his eyes over the place, examining the few patrons still hanging around.

“Come stai?” You ask her quietly, in case there’s listening ears. “Tutto bene?”

If anything was ever actual wrong at the shops the Devils protect, you and Nico would know immediately. They all have a direct line of contact to Nico in case of emergencies, but that’s strictly for life or death situations.

You want them to know though, that you’re invested in their well being. That there’s genuine care and interest when you come here to check-in. If anyone were threatening or harassing them for the Devils mark on the front window. If a cop or someone higher up is sniffing around and chatting about said logo on the front. If they’re unhappy with working with the Devils, this is how it’s fixed.

We keep them happy, is what Nico had told you. If they’re happy, we’re happy, and everyone’s wallets are happy too.

So you put in the face time and the personal touch, the petting of dogs and admiring graduation photos of kids. And you and Johnny conquer and divide the Italian speaking places because there’s nothing more personal than bonding over a shared mother tongue.

“Yes we’re good,” Mrs. Sposato assures you in Italian. “Getting busier now that it’s warm and everyone’s out again.”

“Best time of year for subs,” you agree, and she rises to her feet again. For a moment she disappears back behind the counter, sliding open the glass case and fishing out a little napkin placed in the corner of the refrigerated display.

“Always a good time for subs,” she corrects you, the two of sharing a little laugh as she opens the napkin, laying it out on the counter to reveal little chunks and scraps of meat.

Already knowing and eager, Moose sits politely, thick tail swishing on the tiled floor. She makes a soft sound of endearment before feeding the pieces to him, Moose taking the food from her fingers with delicate teeth.

“I don’t think very many people have our taste for good food year round.” You admit, leaning on the counter to catch a glimpse at Mercer. He’s still looking around, though a bit more lax now, two hands shoved in his pockets.

Mrs. Sposato hums. “That could be true,” she nods, petting at Moose’s nose as she wads up the empty napkin and tosses it in the trash. She wipes her fingers on her black apron.

“You and Nico?” She questions, sitting back on her stool. Her eyes fall to your ring, eyebrows raised. “No wedding date yet?”

You shrug, unable to hide your giddy smile at the mention of the wedding. All these months later and it still makes you swell with love when you look at the pretty diamond.

“We’re thinking summer. He loves the beach and water but it’s so hard to decide.”

She laughs with you, smacking her hand on the counter top and her own ring clacks on the hardwood. “Tell me about it. It took me two years to figure out a date for mine and by that time everyone was saying just go to the court house already!”

Two years is a while you suppose, but not long enough to abandon any plans of a ceremony and party for the court house. It’s a wedding, something special and hopefully for life. If it takes time to plan and get right, you think that’s ok.

“Where did you end up marrying?”

She gives you a shy smile, thumbing at her wedding band. “His parents back yard in Sicily. It was where we first met, where he said he loved me. And no where is more beautiful than Italy.”

You nod in agreement, even if the statement is unknown to you. Sure you’ve seen pictures and videos, can attest that through a screen it’s beautiful. But you’ve never witnessed it in person. After your parents left Italy, they refused to return. Any relatives you ever saw came here to visit.

“I know he’s Swiss, but I’m sure Mr. Hischier would marry you anywhere you’d like. Even your home country.”

Her words make you go warm, the reminder that Nico loves you so much it’s obvious to everyone around you. He’s not easy to read but he’s never hid that his heart beats for you and you alone.

“Yeah he would,” you agree, though you don’t know if it’d work out. Johnny still hasn’t returned to Europe since his father was killed. You’ve never been to Italy, don’t even know where you’d start looking for places to marry. And you’ve since lost contact with any family still remaining there.

It seems like a fruitless dream, even if you know Nico would make it happen.

“Whatever you end up doing,” she continues, laying her hand over yours and smiling with warmth. “If you need any subs or help, let us know, yeah?”

You laugh, lifting your hand to squeeze your fingers around hers. “I don’t know about sandwiches but hopefully there’s a table with your name card on it, right?”

Mrs. Sposato’s eyes go a little misty with surprise and something like honor, the dark brown of them growing shiny and she nods. “Right.”

At the entrance, the bell rings announcing new customers so you and her let go of each other, offering smiles in goodbye.

“We’ll be back soon to check in. And just call if you need anything ok?”

You take a step back with Mercer, Moose easily following you as you wave. “Yeah yeah,” she agrees, “tell Nico to stop by next time. I haven’t seen someone so good looking in awhile.”

It makes you giggle, especially when she winks and then worriedly glances into the back rooms to see if her husband has heard her. When she deems he hasn’t, she’s smirking devilishly and waving you out the door.

Turning around, you follow Mercer back into the maze of tables, glancing down to make sure Moose’s leash is still secured. You tug on the clip, double checking nothing is twisted and then look up to watch Mercer bully through the newest group of people to enter the deli.

You want to call his name, tell him to wait next time because low profile here means not shoving his way through customers, but your entire throat has gone dry at the sight before you.

A family of three, the middle aged couple standing stiff and poised next to an older lady. Her hair is white, styled in salon curated puffs on top of her head that her make her skin appear darker, her green eyes brighter. You could convince yourself you don’t know her if you really wanted to. It’s been long enough without seeing her you could say you forgot.

You can’t say the same about the other two. It may be three years since you’ve seen them but you can recognize the woman’s dark and unruly hair anywhere, her almond eyes and sharp nose. The man’s tan skin and mannerisms, from the way he stands to the way his face rests. After all, they’re the exact same features as yours.

They freeze at the same time you do, your eyes locked on your mother’s. It’s like the space between you and them freezes, everything moving around you. Mercer has noticed, quickly moving back to your side and Moose must have picked up on something too because he’s standing at attention in the space between you and your parents.

“Y/n,” the older woman finally gasps, the words barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. You take a step back, give yourself more space and Mercer steps into it, half shielding you from them.

“Can I help you?” He asks gruffly, tone short and clipped as his hand creeps towards the small of his back, ready to grab the gun in his waistband if needed.

Shocked, your grandmother’s mouth parts and she looks at him defiantly but must think better of it because she stops. Blinking timidly, she looks over his shoulder at you, eyes shining with tears.

“Nonna?” You murmur, your voice hollow in your own ears though it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of your heart, the way it feels like it’s slowly beating away at the bone of your ribs, aching and cracking.

Mercer glances back at you, holding his other hand out in front of you. He’s waiting for instructions, for silent commands, for any hint on what to do. You should leave, you need to leave. Get away from them as soon as possible.

But you haven’t seen Nonna since you were 13, the last time she ever got to visit New Jersey before they all claimed her health was too bad. You never got to go see her either. Italy was forbidden.

“With someone new already?” Your mother cuts in, her Italian just as sharp and formal as you remember it. She was always the one to demand perfection. Even when it came to a language you could hardly use outside of the house.

She gives Mercer a mean once over, her eyes narrowed in disapproval and it rattles you, hits you painfully in the gut. It enrages you that she’s seeing you after all this time and her first words to you are about a boy. An assumption that you’re no longer with Nico, that he’s thrown you out the way she did. Already replaced and moved on from with Dawson apparently.

“No actually I’m not,” you reply, making your tone mimic Nico’s, carrying the same authority and confidence he always has when interacting with anyone but you. “He’s with me.”

Her expression doesn’t change, still unimpressed, still cold, still unrecognizable as the mother you grew up with. That look isn’t foreign though, it’s the same one she gave you when you told them you were picking Nico.

“Where is the knight in shining armor then? Shouldn’t he be with his little piece?”

Your jaw clicks, teeth sinking into the soft skin of your cheek and the taste of blood floods your tongue. Even so, you let the comment roll off, looking away from her and back to your Nonna.

“I didn’t know you could travel again.” You tell her, softer and kinder. There’s no way of knowing her knowledge or compliance in your parents cutting you off, so there’s no reason to be spiteful with her.

“Yes, yes,” she nods frantically, her fingers coming up to touch at the cornicello necklace she always wears. “I’m here again. But you-“ she shakes her head, making a choked cry sound and pressing her hand into her chest. “You’re alive.”

“What?” You ask, dumbly. “What are you talking about?”

She swallows shakily, motioning to your parents. “They told us all it was an accident. Something after graduation. That you’d got in with a bad crowd and they hurt you. Killed you.”

There’s been two times in your life when the ground has given out beneath your feet. The first was that night the Flyers took you, when the lights in the bar had gone out and everything went pitch black. The only thing grounding you was Nico’s hand in yours, his fingers tightening in panic. You heard him call for you, could feel him moving to wrap you up in his hold and in that brief moment of feeling like you were dangling over an abyss, secured only by him, two pairs of hands had latched onto you.

They grabbed you by the waist, yanking you back and you yelped Nico’s name as something wet clamped over your nose and mouth, stung at your eyes. He was still struggling to hold your fingers when you lost consciousness, slipping from his grasp.

The second time is now. You stumble back, elbow hitting one of the tall tables and making your pinky tingle. Moose follows you, pressed tight to your side protectively. You want to be the person that stands up tall and ignores them, that walks away as if totally unaffected but you can’t. You’re not Nico, you’re not as capable or as strong.

Dead. Your parents have been explaining your absence by saying you were dead. Life taken from your body at the hands of the Devils, of Nico. They’ve been claiming that the man who loves you more than life itself is responsible for taking everything from you, even your breath.

When this whole time it’s been them.

You can’t even look at them, can’t stand to meet the pathetic faces of the people you used to call family, the people you used to love. Grabbing at Moose’s collar, you wrap your fingers around it to steady yourself, swallowing down the rising heartbreak that is filling your chest, pressing onto your spine and lungs.

Blinking, you wait for the ground to stop look like it’s moving, peering up and Mercer and giving him a curt nod. He towers over your parents and grandma, pushing them back until there’s enough room behind him for you to slip towards the door. Staying between you and them, Moose follows, his fur soft and soothing under your fingers.

“Wait y/n please,” it’s your father, the first words he’s said this whole time. Tears flood your eyes and the effort it takes to force them down makes the back of your throat ache. You can hear him move for you, trying to follow you and Mercer so you do the only think you know will always work.

The best protection Nico’s ever given you.

“Moose,” you whistle, unclipping his leash from your belt loop “protect.” His leash clatters to the floor and he spins around, snarling and barking at the feet of your father. You don’t bother staying to watch.

Shoving at the handle to the door, it springs open and you step out onto the sidewalk, still fighting to see clearly, to feel the ground beneath your feet. Mercer is only a beat behind you, Moose trailing behind him with low growls still rumbling out of him. You rush away from the front of the window, trying to appear calm as you move out of sight, pausing in the entryway of a closed shop.

Moose immediately finds you, nudging his nose into your leg and you crouch down to hug him, burying your face in his neck as Mercer covers you.

“Y/n?” He calls softly, his fingers just barely touching the top of your head. It makes you think of Nico, how he always goes for the soft spot on the back of your neck when you’re upset, how he knows just the right way to lay his hands on you so they feel safe

“I’m ok,” you croak, taking a few deep breaths. You just need a minute, a minute to collect yourself so they don’t freak. Except you don’t feel better, no matter how much you breathe or hold Moose, it still hurts. Your chest aches, your stomach feels tight with nausea.

“We have to move, come on.” Mercer finally says, kind fingers grabbing your elbow and he helps you stand back up. You grab the dog’s leash, holding it tightly as Mercer practically marches you up the sidewalk and back towards the car.

You know he’s lost, has no idea who those people were or what they said to you. He still stood in front of you, shielded and protected you. Obviously it’s what he’s been trained for but to know he does his job well enough to pick up on the silent cues makes you glow with pride, at least under all the bad feelings swelling inside of you.

This little team you put together is good. They’re all really good.

After a few steps you manage to shake out of your stupor, wiping under your eyes in case any tears escaped and clearing away the last of the sobs stuck in your throat. Mercer lets you go then, watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Head high, you follow him back towards the car, relieved that you managed to get yourself together before meeting up with Johnny and Alex on the corner.

“Mrs. Sposato chatty again?” Johnny asks you, the two boys falling into step. “You were in there for a while.”

It takes you a moment to think. “Yeah kind of,” you respond, looking over your shoulder at him. When you continue, it’s in Italian now. “I saw my parents.”

Johnny trips over his feet, stumbling as he rights himself behind you. “W-what? In the deli?” Blankly staring ahead, you nod. He lets out a low whistle, glancing at Mercer.

“Does he know?” He asks, “who that was?”

You shake your head, puffing out a breath of air as the car beeps to life on the curb. You pull open the door to the backseat, whistling for Moose to hop in. He does, curling up in the space between the two bucket seats.

Alex sits in the back with you, eyeing you worriedly as Mercer and Johnny buckle into the front. He shifts into drive but doesn’t pull away from the curb. You realize he’s waiting for your instruction.

“The bar,” you croak without hesitation. Mercer pulls out onto the street, easily slipping into the Newark traffic. Moose lays his head on your thigh, big droopy eyes blinking up at you. It helps, seeing his sweet face, always a reminder of how much Nico loves you, how he’ll protect you no matter what.

“Braver hund, Moose,” you coo, scratching at his ears and he wiggles closer, tail wagging at the praise. You tuck your hand back into your lap, peering out the window.

The car rolls by the deli shop, your gaze searching through the glass for any sign of them, any indication that maybe they followed you out, maybe they’re just as shaken as you.

They didn’t, and your heart shatters at the reminder that even know, they don’t regret letting you go. They don’t regret writing you out of their lives.

You press you fingers into your collarbone, rubbing at the aching spot and willing yourself not to cry. Not until you see Nico.

A hand slips into your lap, careful fingers taking a hold of your wrist, pulling your hand free and Alex slots his fingers through yours.

You glance up at him, meet those dark and comforting eyes that have always reminded you so much of Nico. The one person in this car with you that knows about it all, knows about your family and the way they treated you. How much it broke you to lose them just because you had met the person you loved most in the world.

“S’okay,” he murmurs, his other hand patting at the back of yours. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

They’re the words. The ones he overheard Nico swearing to you when he first got to New Jersey, when Nico would wrap you up in his arms and squeeze you so tight you couldn’t cry. The same ones you used when he came to your bedroom in the middle of the night, fighting to breathe through whatever nightmare he’d just woken up from.

The words that made you three a family. One that’s far better than whatever you left behind in the deli, now growing smaller in the rear view mirror.

~~~~

Halfway to the bar, you change your mind. Not because you've realized that Nico might not even be there right now and not because you've chickened out on telling him what happened, but because something else has popped into your mind.

It's sudden, the memory of the will your parents showed you when you had turned 18, listing out their estate and setting guidelines for their affairs. As their only child, you'd be in charge of handling everything after their death. Or at least you would've been.

"Left up here," you instruct Mercer, peering around his seat to look out the windshield. He takes the turn, pulling onto the gravel driveway and slowly inching forward. You keep directing him down through the cemetery, passed the old crumbling headstones at the entrance until you’ve gotten to the newer plots in the back.

“Stop here,” you murmur and the car comes to a soft stop, pulled off to the side so others can drive by if needed. Waiting for him to put it in park, you release your seatbelt, reaching for the handle when Johnny stops you.

“Do you want us to go with you?”

Half out the door, you pause. They’re all looking at you, Mercer tangled in his seatbelt and head craned awkwardly to try and meet your eye. While it’s sweet that they want to come with you, want to support you when they don’t even know what’s going on, you can’t let them.

If what you think is here actually is, Nico needs to be the first to see it with you. There’d be no way of explaining to them without crying and you don’t want to do that. You’re supposed to be their boss, to be strong.

“No I’m okay,” you promise, slipping the handle of Moose’s leash to Alex. “I just I think I need to call Nico and talk to him by myself, yeah?”

They all murmur out variations of agreement, watching you with sympathetic eyes as you climb all the way out. “Stay Moose,” you instruct, petting his neck in goodbye before closing the door.

You cut across the grass, slipping your phone out of your back pocket as you go. By the time you find the section of the cemetery you’re looking for, Nico’s contact is already pulled up on your phone. You hit call before you’ve even seen the front of the headstone. You don’t need to read the name, it being there in the midst of the two empty plots next to it is enough.

Nico picks up on the third ring, just as your coming face to face with the front of the marble headstone.

Y/n Y/l/n

September 13, 2000 - June 15, 2022

Loving daughter, friend, and person

May she rest in God’s arms

~~~~

When the screen of Nico’s car lights up with your contact, he knows not to answer it hands-free. He scoops his phone out of the cupholder, sliding the answer bar and ignoring the peeved look Jack gives him from the passenger seat. Little does he know, Nico is probably saving him from having to hear something inappropriate or cringingly sweet.

“Hey baby,” he answers, “what’s going on?”

He’s expecting you to say nothing, that you’re just calling because you finished up on wellness checks and missed him. Maybe beg him to come home early if he can or to let you come hang out in the office with him.

What he’s not expecting is the overly neutral tone of your voice when you ask, “hey are you busy?”

He pauses, listening to the background noise for any hint of where you’re at or what’s going on. It’s almost dead quiet from what he can tell and it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Just heading to the Rock,” he says, voice light and calming. “You okay? Do you need something?”

You clear your throat, voice trembling a little when you speak. “I’m okay I just- could you maybe come here?”

He has no idea where you even are but he still slows the car down, pulling into the slower lane until he can figure out exactly how to get to you. “Yeah of course. Where are you at? Are you safe?”

“Yes, yeah I’m safe. The boys are still with me too. But I’m at the cemetery in Jersey City, the one by my old neighborhood.”

His blood goes cold, panic seeping in. The cemetery? What are you doing at a cemetery by your family’s house? You haven’t been to that neighborhood since graduation and Nico hasn’t been since the month you and him were broken up. When he was tailing your father to make sure you hadn’t gone back to them, that you weren’t back in that house with those assholes.

“Are you-did something happen?” He asks, mind flashing with a million different scenarios. Your father dying, your mother dying, maybe both of them died. Maybe there was an accident and they’ve been gone for awhile, no one thinking to reach out to you even though you’d be the last of kin.

“Kind of. It’s really not that big Nico I just… I need you I guess. If that’s okay? I know you had a lot today and I can wait until later if that’s better.”

He deflates, chest aching at the thought of you standing in this cemetery, clearly shaken by whatever is going on and fighting with the decision to call him. Or worse, feeling guilty for it.

“Always okay, baby,” he assures, Jack gesturing wildly as Nico navigates towards Jersey City rather than Newark. Nico shoots him a warning glare, Jack slumping back into his seat and pouting out the window. “There’s a reason I’ve got so many of the boys with me. They can cover anytime, anytime you need something from me. Don’t ever question that, you hear me?”

A small laugh comes out of you, airy enough to make him smile too. “Yeah boss,” you murmur, “I hear you. I’ll send you my location, okay?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, “you need me to stay on the phone?”

Nico knows the answer. It’s the same one you always give him when he’s driving, when you get that mama bear tone in your voice and tell him absolutely not.

“No just drive safe.”

Laughing to himself, he promises you he will and that he’ll see you soon, then waits for you to hang up before dropping his phone into his lap. Impatiently, Jack stares at him.

“Where are we going?”

Nico glances at him, pressing on the gas a little harder as a text from you lights up the screen. “Y/n needs something.” He clicks it, your pinned location popping up. All he has to do is tap it and the map takes over, the estimated time of arrival showing 13 minutes from now.

“Something like serious or something like you’re going to leave me in the car while you go canoodle her?”

Making an offended face, Nico huffs at him. “Serious, you clown. Now sit back and make sure I don’t get us lost, ok?”

Taking his duty ever so seriously, Jack sits up straighter in his seat, gaze methodically shifting from the map to the road ahead. Nico doesn’t tell him that he knows what area he’s heading to, what exit to take and street to turn down. Mostly because he doesn’t want to talk to Jack about where they’re going and why, but also because none of them know how much time Nico still spent watching out for you after he’d broken your heart.

He doesn’t need to voice how much he’s always cared for you. That he’s been this pathetically and hopelessly in love with you that even when he knew you hated him, he was still tearing himself apart to be the one between you and all the bad things.

And he might be running a little behind getting there right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that he will be there.

~~~~

Mercer, Johnny and Alex are all standing outside the SUV when Nico pulls up behind them, Moose rising from where he was laid out in the shade of the car by Alex’s feet.

“A graveyard?” Jack asks, “Who died?”

Nico shoots him a look, shutting off the engine and pulling the key out. “I thought you were gonna start using that thing that rattles around in your head before speaking?”

Wounded, Jack grabs at his chest. “Ouch. I’m telling y/n that you’re being mean to your second hand man.”

“Just get out.”

He shoves open the door, squinting into the afternoon sun as him and Jack approach the boys. Mercer is already waiting for him, arms crossed impatiently and by the harsh line of his jaw Nico knows the kid already thinks it took him too long to get here.

“What’s going on?” Nico asks, glancing down the line of headstones. He finds you, almost dead center in the middle of all them, just standing there. Your turned just away from him, enough that he can barely make out the profile of your face, much to his dismay.

“John,” Mercer grunts, elbowing him forward. Before he can speak Alex is pushing into Nico, grabbing at his bicep and eyes wide with concern as he rushes out.

“It was her family,” he rushes, “she went into the deli and then came out all panicked.”

Simultaneously they all gawk at him, caught off guard that he’s apparently picked up some Italian in his time here in New Jersey. They all know that when you get emotional you switch to your first language, Johnny being the one to usually translate for Nico when you’re too upset to stop and explain. For years he’s been the only one, especially since Nico’s knowledge has remain limited even if he’s capable of picking up a few words here and there. He thinks it’s how fast you speak, the words bleeding together ever so slightly and he gets lost trying to decipher.

But Alex didn’t.

“What?” The youngest boy scoffs, eyebrows pinching together as he releases Nico’s arms. “She’s my mom. And I’m not stupid, I’ve listened to her speak Italian for years.”

Shaking his head, Nico blows off that topic in favor of focusing on what’s more important now. You went into the deli, has some kind of interaction that made you think of your parents, and has now lead you the graveyard you grew up near. The only explanation he can think of is that one of them has died. That you’re standing a family plot right now, confirming that you have in fact fully lost family.

“Oh fuck,” Nico mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He points a finger at all the boys. “Don’t move, okay?” Comfortingly, he pats the top of Alex’s head, offering him an impressed smile. “You are smart kid,” he compliments, “thanks.”

Alex has just enough time to smile all shy at him before Nico is turning and crossing the grass to you. He doesn’t exactly know the etiquette of walking through a cemetery, if he’s supposed to be doing an odd little hop around all the graves so he’s not stepping on the dead. That seems kind of impossible though so he just marches along, gaze locked ok you.

You must hear him coming because he’s only a few steps away when you turn, glossy eyes meeting his. As if his absence were the last thing holding it all together, your whole face crumples at the sight of him, lips quivering and eyebrows frowning as your mouth parts, forming what he thinks is his name. Instead a heartbreaking sob bubbles out of you, your hand reaching up to clamp over your mouth and Nico rushes forward, catching you as you take a stumbling step towards him.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay.” He shushes, cupping the back of your head protectively as you cry into his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Hugging him around the middle, you hide in his chest with his muffled sobs, Nico unable to do much except hold you. He manages to walk you back a few steps until he can finally see the name on the headstone, expecting to find either your mother or father’s name carved into it.

What he finds instead makes his heart drop into his stomach. It’s your name and birthday on that stone, scraped into the marble under an intricately carved catholic cross. The most concerning part is the date of death. Nico would know it all too well. The day of your college graduation, the day you picked him forever.

“Baby,” Nico gasps, fingers slipping into your hair. “Why does that grave have your name on it?”

Still sniffling, you pull back, wiping at the smears of mascara under your eyes. “I saw them,” you mumble, voice raw. “I saw my parents, at the deli and they had my nonna with them.”

He balks, “your nonna? The one from Italy?” You talked about your grandmother a lot when Nico first met you, all those nights he laid naked in your bed back in your college apartment, too excited to be listening to you talk to even think of sleep. Story after story of her visiting when you were a child, how much you looked forward to it every year. Until she’d gotten too ill to travel and your parents, unwillingly to return to Italy, left her there to be cared for by relatives. Relatives you never really knew or cared for, not like your nonna.

“Yeah, I- I guess she’s better and all but Nico, you should’ve seen the way she looked at me. It was like she had seen a ghost. They told them all I died. That I wasn’t around because I had been with the wrong crowd and got into an accident or something.”

He’s never been a man of many words but for maybe the first time ever he’s actually rendered speechless. Your family quite literally killed you off from real life. Instead of claiming no contact or personal reasons for your absence they shifted all the blame of their faults to something else. To this accident that supposedly killed you, to the bad crowd-

“Me,” he realizes, “the devils and me, we’re the bad crowd aren’t we? Your parents told your family I killed you?”

The date makes even more sense now. They chose the day he took you from them, at least that’s how they saw it in their eyes. The big, bad mafioso that charmed you with money and a life of excitement, that needed arm candy more than he needed love and you were the prettiest option. He knows that’s what they told you, the lies they spewed to try and deter you. They had already made him a villain in their lives, so making him the one that killed you probably wasn’t a reach.

“I mean I guess.” You croak, more calm now that you’ve cried and gotten to speak to him. Flakes of mascara stick to your cheeks, the concealer under your eyes marred with tear tracks and Nico cups your face in both hands, gently clearing them away with his thumbs.

“The date,” you whisper, “I’m sure they’re saying it’s you that did this since the date is-“

“The day you left them for me.”

“The day they made me leave.” You correct, leveling him with a scolding look and Nico’s whole chest warms at it. You’ve always gone out if you’re way to make sure he knows everything with your parents wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t force you into picking him. He already knew that, always thought maybe it was you’re way of trying to make yourself hold them accountable but to be doing it even know, after seeing the fake grave your parents have created for you, it’s just nice.

This should all be about you right now, and yet you’re fussing over him.

“Are you okay baby?” He asks, tracing the tip of his thumb under your swollen bottom lip, trying to ignore how beautiful you always look even after crying.

He’s always liked the glossiness of your eyes, the flush to your cheeks and mouth after you’ve gotten emotional. Not in the sadistic way like he’s enjoys seeing you hurt and crying, but the vulnerability. He really likes that you let him see you like this so openly. You’ve never hid from him.

“I don’t know,” you shrug after a beat, sliding a hand up his chest until your palm is over his heart. “I mean, I guess it’s nice that at least they buried me in the family plot.” You laugh dryly.

“Baby,”

You let out a breath, more earnest this time. “I can’t believe they’d go this far and it sucks but also like it doesn’t matter.”

Nico pauses, frowning in concern. This would terrify him. If he one day walked into a cemetery and saw his own grave, his own headstone, it’d make him sick. Seeing your own potential plot, bare of any markings, is already unsettling enough, but seeing an actual marker for your death? Even if it is fake, it’s nightmarish.

“It does matter if it makes you feel badly.”

You slip out of his hold, turning to look down at your own grave again as if trying to gauge how it actually makes you feel, like underneath your name a sudden carving of instructions on what to think will appear. Nico wraps his arm around your shoulders, urging you into his side and you slip a steady arm around his waist.

“I think I cried because I saw them,” you finally mumble, “but I don’t care about this. It just makes me angry, makes me hate them. Like I never want to see or think about them again hate.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “Hate like you hate Lena?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I want to ruin their lives, I want to take them away from their family, I want-“ them dead.

For the first time in years, Nico brightens at you finally seeing eye to eye on this. He’s been wanting to kill them since the day they abandon you, used to spew all kinds of nasty things about them and while you never disagreed, you never held that rage or contempt for them.

He turns to you, gazing at your side profile as he speaks. “You know I can make that happen right? If you wanted me to.”

You don’t so much as flinch. “You’d do that for me?”

“Thought I told you I’d do ungodly things for you already? Besides I already killed you it seems, might as well add the rest.”

Looking to him, you examine his face for a moment, eyes narrowed in the questioning and innocent way you always give him when you need more. Words he doesn’t even have to say, holding your gaze firmly and knowingly, tilting his head as if to say ‘come on baby, it’s me’.

Relief floods your eyes, a little smile curling at your lips and Nico chuckles at the sight, jumping in to smoosh kisses to your cheeks and nose.

“At least let me get rid of the headstone,” he pleads, “they don’t deserve to be laid next to you, whether it’s fake or not.”

You hum, laying your head on his shoulder and looking back down at your marble name. “They won’t be laid next to me,” you assure, “that’s not the last name I’ll be buried with.”

It’s the smugness of your tone, how haughty and pleased you sound to be saying it that makes Nico smile, body alighting with adoration for you. Everyday he thinks he couldn’t possibly love you more and then you prove him wrong, looking so enamored at having his last name, at being with him forever. Even in death.

He presses a kiss to your temple, burying his nose in your hair and squeezing you so tight you make a little squeaking noise.

“No it’s not.”

~~~~

Nico’s boot thump on the tiled floors, heavy and bulking as he shuts the front door behind him. He’s never fully learned how to keep his feet silent, unable to ever move without making a sound. No matter how many times he’s watched you sneak around, the way your shoes always seem to melt into the ground in careful and noiseless steps, he can never mimic it.

Not that he really needs it right now. The house is empty, its occupants away for the day and even if they weren’t, he has every right to bully his way in here. It is his city after all and he’s been lenient with who he lets run around it.

It’s not a very homey place, more so than the house he grew up in, but still not light and welcoming. Not like the home you’ve made with him. Dark wood furniture, all of it freshly polished and matching. Fancy china dishes in them, rosaries and crosses, knickknacks he couldn’t even begin to identify.

There’s photos though, dozens of them everywhere. Framed neatly, tucked into the duvets of curio cabinets, on side tables by the living room furniture. All of them of the same little girl, from photos of her as just a pink bundle in a hospital crib to ones of her crossing the stage at graduation.

Documenting her life up until the moment she received her college degree and then stopping abruptly. It’s bullshit, Nico decides, jaw clicking as he examines them.

He should take them. They shouldn’t be here, pushing a false narrative of what’s actually happened. Yet there’s too many to take even if he wants to.

Blatantly, Nico shifts around the photos, moving the angles of them and crunching to the rug under his boots. He stomps his way into the kitchen, cracking open a kitchen cabinet just because he can. Shifting around more photos on the fridge, switching magnets and wallet sized school photos.

Angry about it, fingers moving with a purpose. It’s not fair that all these photos are here, photos he’s never gotten to see and you’ve never gotten the privilege of having. The familiar curve of your smile, the shape of your nose, the brightness of your eyes always the same no matter the age and size of you in the photo.

They all make him ache, make him so vengeful he might just plant his ass at the kitchen table, gun in hand and wait for your parents to return. You didn’t tell him not to kill them but you never answered him either. I want to ruin them, that’s what you had said. Ruin their lives.

Nico can make that happen, easily. Starting with this, planting that uneasiness, make them scared. They need to know that he’s been here, that he knows everything and he isn’t happy. Everything they said about him before is going to look like nothing after he’s done here.

He’ll make them spiral. Make them paranoid and anxious, vulnerable. Then he’ll take away everything familiar to them, make sure whatever security they thought they had is gone. Hell, maybe he’ll even let them know that he’s been watching them for years. All this time they’ve never actually been safe. Not like you have been with him.

Nico pauses on a 4x6 photo on the size of the fridge. Held in place by a magnet from the Jersey Shore. He has no idea how old you are here, what year it could possibly be. The photo is slightly blurred by smears of white, big snowflakes turning to fuzzy flashes in the camera. But the large tree behind you is still visible, bright and colorful on Rockefeller center. You’re just a tiny thing of a girl in front of it, a white fur coat and black shiny boots peaking out under it.

It’s so you, smiling that wide and pretty in a winter wonderland at Christmas, dressed like the mob wife you were meant to be.

Nico’s never thought about it very much but looking at this photo now, the happy wrinkles by your eyes and the rosiness of your cheeks, the way you shine even brighter than the most famous Christmas tree in the world, Nico hopes that one day he can give you this all back.

That you’ll let him give you a little baby girl, her smile and personality as beautiful as yours, a mirror of her mother’s. That the childhood depicted here can be restored with a family of your own. He already knows how healing it is for you to care for others, to be the safe space you didn’t have in your parents.

He thinks that maybe getting to love babies of your own would fill that last bit of you that still aches. And he thinks it’d maybe fix him too. Let him prove himself, show that he can love more than just you. He doesn’t think he could ever love anyone or anything as fiercely as he does you, but he can still love them wholly and entirely.

He can love in the way only a father can. He’s sure of it.

Plucking the photo off the fridge, he traces his thumb over your smiling face, chest flooding with warmth. Carefully, he slips out his wallet and tucks the photo in there, cautious as to not bend the corners. Shoving it back in his front pocket, he takes one last glance at the fridge, faltering when he realizes what the other papers stuck to it are.

Condolence cards. So many of them displayed, handwritten sympathy for the loss of you. Nico swipes those off the fridge too, gathering them in his hands until the metal is startlingly bare. Dumping them in the empty kitchen sink, Nico digs through the drawers until he comes up with a box of matches.

He leaves the drawer slightly ajar, lighting the head against the scratch on the back and dropping it onto the pile of cards. Then he waits, watches them light up in flames, curling and melting away into ash, the air turning warm in front of him.

Once they’re all ruined, half burnt and charred, unsalvageable, Nico dusts his hands off and heads back towards the front door.

Satisfied with his work, he leaves, locking the door behind him just to make them wonder how he got in and if he’ll get in again. Let them know what this little visit was for. Not an act of intimidation or revenge, but one of war.

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck Together - Part 7

Summary: After Westview, Wanda and her children go into hiding. She's not happy with the person in charge of protecting them.

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

A/N: Final part is here. Thank you to everyone reading :)

Quiet.

Something you love. Or used to, anyway.

It’s stupid, how fast you got used to the little things. The sounds in the kitchen as Wanda made coffee. The hurried steps of fhe boys, eager to join Riley in a morning walk.

Now you’re back to being alone, feeding the animals, looking out the window while the radio plays some generic music.

Everything’s so bland and boring and you hate it.

Then, one morning, you hear a car parking in the driveway.

“Sestra!” a voice with a heavy accent calls, and your shoulders drop. You realise a moment later that you were holding your breath.

Fanny barks, eager to say hello to Riley. You open the door, your dog sprinting out to greet Yelena and her pup.

There’s a brunette trailing right behind the Russian, looking around nervously.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, you left the hospital against medical advice. What was I supposed to do?”

“Hu-huh” you cross your arms, looking at the stranger. She hesitates, taking a step forward to introduce herself.

“Kate Bishop”

“Clint’s minion” you recognise the name. He told you all about their little stint in New York. You turn to Yelena, raising your arms. “I’m fine, all healed. You can chill”

“Well, we came all the way here, could we at least stay the night?”

In that moment, Riley sits at your feet, barking excitedly. You glare at the blonde.

“Only because Riley agreed”

“Good girl” she says, scratching behind her ears. With a roll of your eyes, you turn back home, Yelena and Kate close behind you.

As you prepare coffee and the two girls make sandwiches, you think of all the things Natasha told you about Yelena.

She was my little sister.

And you knew, that if anyone could understand your grief was her, out of all the people in the world.

But that didn’t mean you wanted to spend time together. It was a constant push and pull. Talking about Natasha and avoiding the topic altogether were both equally painful.

After a while, you show them the guest room. Yelena doesn’t flinch at the sight of one bed, and even when you mention the other rooms available (or even the couch), they both walk in.

As Yelena walks by you, you arch an eyebrow, and she gives you a stern look.

“Shut it”

Figuring it’s better to give them some privacy to settle, you take a stroll around the farm, Lou happily following along while Fanny and Riley chase each other.

Your mind is a mess, and you don’t know which way to turn to hurt less. As usual, there’s a weight in your chest when you think about Natasha, and how much you miss her. But now, Wanda’s abscence is also there, the wound very much fresh and open, as only a few days ago she was in your arms, promising to stay.

For the first time in years, you miss going on missions.

“Had a good walk?” Yelena says when you’re back. You just shrug your shoulders, sighing as you go up the steps. “Well, ok. Have a seat”

“What is Bishop doing?” you ignore her invitation, taking a look through the window.

“Trying to cook dinner”

“Is she going to burn my house down?”

“I’d give it a 40-60 chance of it happening” the blonde smiles, clearly not worried about it. Then, she pats the space next to her on the porch swing. “Now come. Sit”

With a sigh, you walk up to her and lean against the bannister, crossing your arms as you look at her. Yelena rolls her eyes at your defensive stan.

“So, what’s the deal between you and this Wanda?”

“Nothing”

“Not what I heard” she shakes her head, amused. You glare.

“From who?”

“Barton”

“Oh, come on. You were trying to kill the guy a few weeks ago and now you gossip? He braids your hair while he’s at it?” you mock.

“Ok, fine. Not directly from him. He called Kate and she called me”

“She called you or you were together?” you tease her.

“Stop being an ass. Tell me what’s going on”

You look away for a moment, thinking that you could tell her it’s none of her business. Ask her to leave you alone, to try and get drunk, forget about everything that’s weighing you down.

But you can’t. Because, whether you like it or not, you’re bound by grief, and loss. And love. Love for Natasha.

If she was struggling with something, you’d be chasing her around until you made sure she was ok.

“Nothing. I thought… Hill asked me for help to protect her. And for those couple of weeks, I developed these feelings. Maybe I was just lonely”

“Feelings? Like love?”

“I guess. But she left, and it’s probably for the best. She’s right; someone always gets hurt”

“You’re already hurt” she replies, her voice gentle.

“I’m a big girl, I’ll get over it”

“But do you have to? Why not go after her? Give yourself the chance to be happy. Just once”

“I don’t think… I didn’t do anything to stop her, Yelena. I don’t think I can be happy, after failing Natasha” you finally say, voice shaking.

“You didn’t fail her. She made a choice. After everything she went through, all the possibilities that were taken from her… do you really think the last thing she ever did was against her will?”

You can’t answer that.

What’s worse? To think you could have stopped her? Or that her sacrifice was always inevitable?

Yelena stands up, her hand on your shoulder.

“Just… remember what you told me. A life worth living. That’s the best way to honor her memory”

“Yeah” you sigh, looking up. You hate crying.

Though, a second later you smell the smoke and hear Kate’s scream.

“We should probably go help her”

“And order some pizza” Yelena adds, smiling as you roll your eyes.

—

It’s been a while since you’ve been here.

The gifts and letters scattered around always warm your heart.

There are people who value her, honor her life.

Natasha’s legacy.

As far as your little tribute, it’s all the plants you placed around this hidden corner of land.

You spend some time cutting and cleaning the grass around the gravestone, and then turn your attention to the flowers.

The peonies get pruned, daffodils adding a spring of color. You know the hydrangeas aren’t blooming until early summer, but that’s fine.

Natasha once told you; bare trees or withering flowers didn’t make her sad. It meant she was staying long enough in one place to watch them go through every season. It meant she had a home.

Once you’re done removing the soil, checking the watering system you installed, and fixing the little gifts people left for her, you sit on the floor, watching your hands.

“Sorry for not coming sooner. Hill called me. And you know I answered because she was your friend. Turns out she wanted me to help out Maximoff. She got a bit more annoying than when she was running around the Compound looking like a raccoon with all that eyeliner” you chuckle at the memory of her dark clothes, rings and smoky eyes. She couldn’t look more different now.

“I should have known it was going to be trouble, and I don’t mean just because I almost got killed twice. It’s because… I started to fall for her. She has two kids, by the way. Born from magic or some weird deal I don’t really understand”

I didn’t think I had it in me, to fall in love again. Not only because I lost you, but because I had been so angry at everyone. It felt like I only had space for that emotion. Anger.

But I saw myself in Wanda. In everything she lost, in all the things that were taken from her, without so much as an apology. And I want more for her. I want her to be happy. Maybe with me. Why not?

As usual, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. It’s different this time, though. I still feel sad and lonely, but it’s also a different kind of nostalgia. I can think about you and appreciate everything we shared.

Most importantly, I think I’m finally ok with the fact that you made your choice. I have to trust that you knew what you were doing, Tasha. And that whether I like it or not, it is what you wanted.

You lean your head against her grave, the stone cold against your skin. It makes your heart ache, it makes you wish you could bring her back and feel her warmth against your body.

How could you ever think Wanda’s a monster? If you could, you’d create a new reality, a new universe where Natasha gets to live the life she always deserved.

But you can’t do that. All you can do is go and find your own happinnes.

With a final touch, you speak softly, hoping she can hear you, wherever she is.

“I love you, so damn much. And I always will”

—

Very few times in her life, has Wanda regretted putting on The Dick Van Dyke Show.

And then, she realises what episode they’re watching.

Never name a duck.

The one where Ritchie becomes attached to two ducks, but only one of them survives. Until he’s sick and the vet tells Rob he needs to be in the wild.

The words that come out of Rob’s mouth make Wanda think of you.

“But maybe that was a selfish love”

That’s exactly what she thinks her love for you is. Selfish.

You didn’t ask for any of this, and Wanda’s not about to burden you with everything she carries. She’ll manage alone, like she has done ever since Pietro died.

Except she wasn’t alone. There was Vision, Steve and Natasha. You, in the background, doing your part, fighting for Wanda’s right to have a life outside of this.

Even if she misses you, you deserve to have a life.

And so, she let you go.

“Can we watch something else?” Billy asks, and Wanda can tell the show is making him sad as well.

“Sure, sweetheart”

After watching Zootopia, the kids drag their feet to the room they’re sharing. Fury provided another safe house, while Wanda decides where to go next. Billy and Tommy need stability and of course they won’t get it by changing houses every other day.

“Can I ask you something?” Tommy says, turning to look at Billy, making sure his brother’s asleep. “Is Y/N ok?”

“I sure hope she is, my sweet boy. She knows how to take care of herself” Wanda smiles at him, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears that are almost rolling down her cheeks. “Now you get some sleep, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow”

“Night, Mom” he replies, settling in bed.

As Wanda takes a moment in the hallway, she allows herself to think about you, probably back home. Watching Ancient Aliens, cursing at the TV as you sip on a bottle of beer.

It’s stupid, how much comfort it brings her to think of you doing the most absurd things.

Said comfort doesn’t last long, though. She hears a branch snapping close to the house. It’s a small place and the road ends a few feet away from the entrance. So, whoever approaches has to leave their vehicle and walk to the front door.

Without wasting a second, she goes to the door, hand up in the air to hold the intruder.

“Hey, now wait a second” you say, smiling.

Wanda’s so shocked that she drops her hand, you crashing down immediately after.

“I’m sorry” she rushes to your side, and you sit up. Wanda places her hands in your face,  fingers tracing the cuts and bruises that are still healing.

On pure instinct, you move forward, kissing her. She moans against your lips, allowing you to wrap your strong arms around her waist. But then she remembers.

“Stop”

“No” you shake your head, pulling her closer. “You said you’d stay, Wanda”

“That was before”

“Before…”

“You almost got killed because of me” she sighs, pushing her hair back and standing up. You follow her, reaching for her hand.

“Can’t even tell you how many people have tried to kill me. And I’m still here”

“It wasn’t just him. It was Agatha too. And who knows what else? I’m like a magnet for these things. I don’t want you getting hurt” she says, arms around her own body, as if desperate to find something that can hold her together.

“Wanda… bad things are going to happen. It’s part of life. Wouldn’t you want to face them with someone who… who cares about you?” you whisper, holding her chin between your fingers.

“I’m scared”

“The thing is, we’ve both lost people. And I know, I can’t deny that a part of me will always love Natasha… but I think I have to accept she made a choice. And I should try to live my life. I think Vision would want that for you as well. I mean the real Vision; not that white awful thing” 

“I just don’t want to lose anyone else. I don’t know if I can take it” she says, finally reaching forward. You kiss her temple.

“Well, just come back home and we’ll take it one day at a a time. Together”

“The kids miss you” she says after a beat of silence.

“And I miss them, but I swear if there’s a fourth Cars movie I will burn down Pixar myself”

Wanda laughs for a moment, her breath tickling your skin.

“Promise me you won’t leave me” she says against your neck and you smile, making her look at you.

“Scout’s honor, witchy”

“Don’t…” Wanda’s about to fight you on the nickname, when you meet her lips in a soft kiss.

“Just stop fighting it. You like me too much”

“You wish” she teases, kissing you again.

Looks like you’re stuck with each other.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[inkbyme]

Hi if you’re taking requests could you do the Mha boys accidentally hurting reader during training, and they have to go to recovery girl? If not that’s ok!

₊˚ෆ MHA Characters When They Hurt You During Training ₊˚ෆ

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya ✧ Katsuki Bakugo ✧ Eijirou Kirishima ✧ Shouta Aizawa ✧ Hanta Sero ✧ Hawks ✧ Tenya Iida ✧ Shoto Todoroki ✧ Denki Kaminari

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

When training gets a little too real—here’s how the MHA boys handle accidentally hurting the one they love. Expect guilt, chaos, and soft apologies wrapped in bandages.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Izuku Midoriya

• He immediately freezes the second you go down. You barely have time to say “I’m okay” before he’s already at your side, eyes wide and filled with panic.

• “I—I didn’t mean to hit you! That wasn’t aimed for—oh god, I’m so sorry!”

• He’s practically vibrating with nerves the whole walk to Recovery Girl, clinging to your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him from spiraling.

• After you’re treated, he won’t stop apologizing.

• “You trusted me and I hurt you… I’ll never forgive myself for that. You’re supposed to be safe with me.”

• He ends up writing out a training safety plan the next day, color-coded and everything.

⸻

Katsuki Bakugo

• He hears the thud of your body hitting the ground and goes stone still.

• The moment he realizes it was his explosion that knocked you back too hard, his heart plummets.

• “Shit—Y/n—dammit, I wasn’t aiming for you! You weren’t supposed to dodge that way!”

• He scoops you up and runs to Recovery Girl, refusing to let anyone else touch you.

• Once you’re patched up, he stands in the corner of the room with his fists clenched, looking like a kicked puppy.

• “I don’t lose control. I never lose control. But I did… and I hurt you.”

• Later, he mutters a soft, “Won’t happen again. Promise.” with his forehead resting lightly against yours.

⸻

Eijirou Kirishima

• The moment your body flies back and lands wrong, he’s sprinting toward you. His weapon drops. Nothing else matters.

• “No, no, no—please tell me I didn’t do that. Y/n? Can you hear me?”

• He carries you bridal style straight to Recovery Girl while panicking aloud the whole way.

• “I pushed too hard, didn’t I? I wasn’t paying attention to your stance—I should’ve noticed you were off-balance!”

• He stays beside you the entire time you’re being healed, apologizing and holding your hand.

• Later, he says: “I wanna be strong—but not at the cost of hurting you. That’s not manly at all.”

⸻

Shouta Aizawa

• He’s usually hyper-aware of his surroundings, especially when you’re around. But during a fast-paced spar, one of his binding maneuvers ends with you slammed harder than intended into the mat.

• He doesn’t panic—yet. He crouches beside you instantly, hands steady, but his voice is low and tight.

• “Don’t move. Let me see what I did.”

• As soon as he confirms it’s not life-threatening, he quietly scoops you up and carries you to Recovery Girl. Not a word spoken during the walk. But you can feel his grip trembling.

• Once you’re healed, he stays seated beside your bed, arms crossed, face unreadable.

• “This is why I don’t get close to people.”

• He finally looks at you—tired, vulnerable. “I train people to survive, not to break them. I should’ve known my limits when it’s you.”

• Later, he makes you promise to call him out next time you even feel pushed too hard. It’s not bossy—it’s fear disguised as authority.

⸻

Hanta Sero

• Training was all fun and games—until his tape accidentally yanked your ankle mid-jump, sending you crashing down hard.

• He panics immediately, bolting to your side like he just broke something priceless.

• “Oh my god—Y/n?! That wasn’t supposed to happen—I thought you’d dodge!”

• He carries you straight to Recovery Girl, rambling apologies the whole way.

• “I swear I didn’t mean to pull that hard—please don’t hate me, I’m such an idiot—”

• Once you’re patched up, he’s unusually quiet, guilt all over his face.

• “I mess around a lot, but this? Hurting you? That’s not okay. You matter too much.”

• He later sends you 27 memes and a handwritten apology with a stick figure drawing of himself getting tape-slapped.

⸻

Hawks

• He was being cocky, zipping around you with his wings mid-training, showing off. Then one feather veered wrong—too sharp, too fast.

• You flinch as it slices across your arm. Blood. A lot more than either of you expected.

• His heart drops.

• “Oh no. Baby, no no no— I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—dammit, I thought I had perfect control—”

• He immediately bundles you in his wings and books it to Recovery Girl, panic fully kicking in.

• “I’ve done missions in the sky under gunfire and still kept control. Why is it the one time I let loose around you, I mess up?”

• He can’t sit still while you’re being treated. He keeps trying to crack jokes, but his voice cracks too.

• When you’re stable, he sits beside you, voice soft. “I move too fast sometimes… Forget that the people I care about don’t have wings like I do.”

• He presses a kiss to your bandaged arm. “I’ll slow down for you. Every time. Just say the word.”

⸻

Tenya Iida

• The second he sees you knocked down by one of his high-speed moves, he skids to a halt so fast he nearly crashes.

• He’s already at your side, rattling off injury protocols and doing everything by the book—except his voice is shaking.

• “I was reckless! I should’ve adjusted my path! I’m so sorry, that was entirely my fault!”

• He insists on carrying you to Recovery Girl himself.

• While you’re being healed, he keeps pacing back and forth, muttering about how this was “a disgraceful lapse in control.”

• Once you’re okay, he bows so deep it’s dramatic. “I promise to train even harder to ensure this never happens again.”

⸻

Shoto Todoroki

• When you drop from the blast of his ice wall, he immediately rushes over, his calm face cracking just slightly.

• “That wasn’t meant to hit you. I misjudged your position—I didn’t calculate the ricochet.”

• He picks you up so gently, like you might break if he moves wrong again.

• During the healing, he stands silently nearby, but his eyes never leave you.

• “I don’t let my power hurt the people I love. I failed at that today.”

• Later, he asks to redo the whole exercise—with roles reversed, so you can be the attacker. “If I can’t protect you, I want you to know how to take me down.”

⸻

Denki Kaminari

• He fires off one of his electricity blasts as a joke mid-spar—and accidentally zaps you square in the shoulder.

• His face drains of color as you drop to your knees with a pained gasp.

• “OH MY GOD—WAIT, I DIDN’T—CRAP—I THOUGHT YOU MOVED!”

• He practically short-circuits himself trying to get you to Recovery Girl.

• While you’re being treated, he’s holding ice to his own face because he slapped himself in panic.

• “You’re never training with dumbass-me again. I’ll just stand there and cheer. Like emotional support.”

Thank you so much for sending this in! It was such a cool request to write. Hope it hits you right in the feels like you wanted!

Let me know if you have any feedback or if there’s any warnings I need to put on my post. I hope you enjoyed reading this!

[inkivaari]

Ok but more about nurse reader

Would conquest defy the viltrum empire when they come for earth? Like if she asked him to? The only person who's treated him softly one that he loves in a way he's not supposed too ask him to defy the order he's followed all his life to save her earth and their baby (breeding kink go brrr) Would he be able to?

And if he did imagine everyone's reaction and when they ask why he has a nolan "i miss my wife" moment but instead its "my wife told me too"😂

ooooooooh okay okay interesting :>

it takes a while for them to come knocking, wondering what their big scary attack dog's been up to for the decade he's been away taking earth. but when they DO come, and they see what he's become... domesticated, soft, his only mission in life being to protect his precious little nurse and their babies? ohhhhhh it's gonna go down. his first impulse, he can't help it after centuries of conditioning, is to pledge fealty, beg the emperor for forgiveness, and for more time. but when he sees your face, your wide eyes, the chubby twins on your hips from your most recent pregnancy... he realises his loyalty no longer belongs to the empire. it belongs to his little darling. he sees the universe in you, seen it time and time again when he's bred you full of his children over the years, seen it when you raise them together, when you heal their scrapes, hold them close, teach them patience... your eldest is even starting to develop a hybrid power set from his viltrumite father and healer mother. how could he ever believe the empire's lies when they berate him, debasing himself for a woman he should have on a leash?

you don't even need to ask. this is his new purpose.

[makis-eyebrows]

Request: <33

Save The Last Dance

With Lando being so busy, he forgets one of the most important days of his daughter’s life.

It Was Supposed to Be Perfect.

Y/n had been planning her Sweet 16 with her dad, Lando Norris, for almost six months. Every little detail — the fairy lights, the playlist, even the chocolate fountain — they had picked out together.

But more importantly, they were supposed to do their thing.

Every year, since she turned five, they had a Daddy-Daughter Dance on her birthday. No matter where he was — Monaco, Miami, Melbourne — he would fly back just to spin her around under the stars.

Tonight was supposed to be no different.

Except it was.

Y/n sat at her table, her perfectly done-up hair beginning to wilt from the waiting, her soft pink dress crumpling beneath her as she curled into herself.

The party buzzed around her — friends laughing, balloons popping, cameras flashing — but all she could feel was the massive, aching emptiness.

Her mom, standing across the room, kept glancing at her phone, a tight, worried frown forming.

Another half-hour passed.

The DJ cued the special song she and her dad had picked. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Still no Lando.

Something inside her cracked.

Face burning with betrayal, anger, and sadness all tangled up, Y/n grabbed her bag, slipped out the side door, and ordered an Uber. Her phone buzzed nonstop — friends, her mom, even the DJ — but she ignored them all.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

Back at Home

Y/n slammed the door behind her, tore off her heels, and sobbed into her pillow.

At the venue, her mom stood with her phone to her ear, furious.

She finally got through.

Call with Lando:

Mom: "Pick up your phone, Lando."

Lando (panicked): "What? What’s wrong?"

Mom: "You forgot her birthday. YOU FORGOT HER BIRTHDAY."

Lando: "WHAT? NO— wait, wait, what time is it?"

Mom: "It’s past 9 PM. She left her own party. Alone."

Silence.

Heavy, gut-wrenching silence.

Then the line went dead — Lando already moving.

Texts (Group Chat: F1 Idiots)

Lando:

I messed up. I missed Y/n’s Sweet 16. She’s heartbroken. What do I do.

Smooth Operator🌶:

Mate... you’re gonna have to move mountains.

Prince Of Monaco:

Big grand gesture. Flowers. Apology. Tears. Beg.

GOATed Hamilton:

Don't just say sorry. SHOW her you’re sorry. Make a memory she won’t forget.

Os🏎:

Build a time machine.

Lando:

NOT HELPING OSCAR.

Mr. Saterday:

Seriously. You need to make her feel like the most important person in the world right now.

Lando:

Ok. Ok. I’ve got an idea. Pray for me.

At Home – Late Night

Y/n sat on her bed, still in her dress, tear tracks marking her cheeks.

Then she heard it — music.

Soft, familiar, coming from outside.

Curious and still angry, she opened her window.

And there he was.

Lando Norris, standing in their backyard, fairy lights strung up everywhere, holding a giant speaker playing their song, and a hand-painted cardboard sign that read:

"I’m sorry I missed the first dance.

Can I have the last one?"

Her breath hitched.

She hesitated.

Her heart fought her mind.

But when she saw his eyes — red-rimmed, glassy, desperate — she couldn’t stay mad.

Slipping out the door, barefoot and trembling, Y/n padded across the grass.

Without a word, Lando opened his arms.

And she ran into them.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he whispered into her hair, voice cracking. "I'm so, so sorry, bunny. You didn't deserve that. You deserve everything."

Tears spilled down her cheeks again — but this time, they were different. Softer. Healing.

"I thought you forgot about me," she mumbled.

"Never. Not even for a second." He pulled back, wiping her tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I messed up. But I'm going to spend every day making sure you know how much you mean to me."

He bowed dramatically, making her giggle despite herself. "May I have this dance?"

With a small, tearful laugh, Y/n nodded.

Under the fairy lights, barefoot in the grass, Lando and Y/n swayed slowly to their song — late, messy, imperfect — but maybe even more meaningful than if everything had gone to plan.

And as the night wrapped around them, it was clear:

They had saved the most important dance after all.

I tried my best chat. I enjoyed making it though. Hopefully you will enjoy it pookie.

Don't have much to say other than I was trustworthy enough to be mod in an F1 group that yall should totally join, eventually.

That's Gang Gang out!!!!♡

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 11

Word Count- 3.8k

Warnings- Mentions of Suicide(Damon trying to die because of his wolf bite), swearing, death, blood, gun/gun-shot wounds, smaller chapter but big things happening cliffhanger ending

“Yes, Elena. Once again, I’m fine. I have to go run an errand and then I’ll see you guys at the square. OK? Toodles!”

I quickly hung up my phone, just in case Elena decided to ask what errand I was running. How the hell am I supposed to tell her I’m going to try to talk a dying Damon Salvatore off the ledge?

It’s been two days since Demon dropped the bomb that he was dying and then disappeared. He hasn’t answered my calls and whenever I ask Stefan about him he says “I’m working on it.” Not well enough, clearly, because the Bunny Eater called me 30 minutes ago telling me Damon just tried lighting himself on fire and he needs my help talking him down. I’m not sure why I’m the one he called for this since I’ve heard Damon on more than one occasion say he’d rather die than listen to me speak. 

Damon and Stefan have made me keep quiet about this, so no one else but us three knows. Which is why I fibbed a bit on my phone call with Elena. I’m not entirely on board with keeping this a secret. What do the Salvatores think is going to happen when the werewolf bite kills Damon? Just tell everyone Damon went upstate to a farm, just like what parents tell their children when their turtles or dogs die.

Although Damon and I have had our differences, I can admit the thought of him dying doesn’t sit well with me. Especially since he got bit trying to stop the ritual. Even though it didn’t stop it, it did save Tyler and Caroline. Who I guess was replaced by that bitch Jules and some random vampire Klaus had in his back pocket. 

I take a deep breath as I exit my car and walk up to the front door of the Salvatore house. I don’t bother knocking since everyone kind of just lets themselves in when it comes to this place. I’m about to call out for Stefan but within a moment he’s flashed in front of me. 

“Oh good lord,” I clutch my chest in surprise. At this Stefan’s eyes widen and he reaches out to me.

“I’m sorry, Y/n! Is it your heart again? Do you need anything? Here take some of my blood,” Stefan frantically says.

I put both of my hands up and shake them, “Stefan calm down dude, okay? I’m good, you just scared me. I’ve got to start getting you vamps little bells to wear around your necks.”

Stefan slightly laughs but I can still see the weariness in his eyes.

“Really Stefana, I’m good.”

Stefan sighs and nods, “Sorry, I just…with everything going on I’m just…,” Stefan rubs his hand over his face and now I can clearly see the exhaustion and sadness on it. 

I take a step closer and wrap my arms around him in a hug, “It’ll be ok, we’ll figure it out, alright?”

Stefan doesn’t say anything but I feel him nod as he wraps his arms around me tighter as if me hugging him is the only thing keeping him grounded. And after seeing his older brother trying to light himself on fire, it might just be. 

After another moment Stefan releases me and smiles at me but it doesn't reach up all the way. 

“He’s down here,” He says and I follow him down to where Elijah was when he was daggered. 

At the thought of the Original my heart sinks. It’s been three days since I’ve seen or heard from him. Each time I hear my phone ring a small part of me expects it to be him with his stupid posh accent telling me he’s sorry for ghosting me, but every time I answer it’s never him. I’ve tried to distract myself with hanging out with the girls, or Theo, and even the occasional phone call with Jenna who talks to me a lot now about the supernatural since we both learned about it recently. Bonnie and I have also been going through her deceased Gram’s grimoires and things to see if we can find anything on why my chest bled and then magically healed itself, but nothing comes up.  It’s disheartening but Bonnie says she won’t stop searching until she’s found the reason. Our time together has made me realize just how good of a friend Bonnie is. She’s loyal and kind and she’d fight for her friends until her dying breath. Which is sadly something she has already done once. I really like hanging out with her and her teaching me more about her world. I may not understand much about witches but it’s nice to see how excited she gets when she talks about it. 

“Are you going to be good down here by yourself,” Stefan leans down to whisper to me.

“What,” I question now realizing he’s been talking this entire time. 

“I have to go to the square to go speak to Elena but after I’ll be back. Just whatever he says, don’t let him out. Ric should be here soon too. He can take your place when he gets here.”

I do a soldier’s salute and he rolls his eyes as he walks back upstairs. Leaving me and Grumpy down here by ourselves. The door that separates us is big and wooden with a small window that has three metal bars. I look through and frown when I see Damon scrunched up, sitting on the far side of the room. 

“Are you going to eat me if I come in?”

“Drinking your blood would be a fate worse than death,” Damon’s scratchy voice speaks up after a moment. 

I roll my eyes as I unlock the door and push it open, I quickly make my way inside and close it. I lean against the door and cross my arms as I look at the dying vampire in front of me. 

“Stefan really thought you of all people would be the one to talk me off the ledge,” Damon grunts out as he puts his head up to look at me. 

“That’s exactly what I said. I told him you’d be more likely to do it again after hearing me speak,” I laugh out.

Damon’s upper lip twitches for a moment and he lets out a strangled laugh, “You’re not wrong. 

We’re both quiet for a moment before Damon speaks up again, “I’m going to die.”

I take a deep breath and sit down against the door mirroring Damon, “At the moment, yes you are.”

Damon raises an eyebrow at me, “So you’re not going to fill me with fairy tales about some special cure and that by tomorrow I’ll be fresh as a daisy?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Is that what you want me to do?”

Damon stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head, “No, I don’t.”

“Alright then. Works for me. You know, Stefan called me to try to talk you down because he thinks what you did was crazy. But… I understand why you did it.”

This captures Damon’s attention as he stares questioningly at me, “You do?”

I nod as I play with a loose thread on my shirt, “Ya. You’re scared. And in pain. You think this is the only way out, but it isn’t. And I’m not saying that because of some magical cure. I’m saying that because you still have time left to say your goodbyes and to be with those who actually care about you. Even though you’re an actual hellspawn. I know that this is scary, you’ve been alive for over a century and now you’re facing mortality for the first time in years. I would be scared too.”

Damon’s jaw clenches and for a moment I think he’s mad but when I see him turn his head to stare at the wall next to him I realize he’s trying to hide his emotions. 

“Damon you can stare at that wall all you’d like but I meant what I said.”

At the sound of footsteps, I stand up. 

“Ric’s here. Try not to be such an ass to him. You’re kind of like his only friend,” When he doesn’t make any noise about my joke I frown and start to unlatch the door, “I’m glad I met you, Damon. I don’t tell a lot of people that, but it’s true. Thanks for bringing out a fire in me I didn’t know I had.”

Damon says nothing and I quickly wipe a stray tear from my face as I open the door.

“I’m glad I met you too, Y/N. Even though you’re a pain in the ass,” I turn and make eye contact with Damon, and even though the room is dark, I swear I can see small tears building in his blue eyes, “I don’t believe in next lives or whatever…but if they somehow exist, I wouldn’t mind meeting you again in that one, Pukey.”

I let out a small sob as I run over to the seated man and throw my arms over him. He lets out a grunt of surprise and after a moment he wraps his arms around me and I can feel the dampness from his tears on my shirt.

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll kill you,” He tries to threaten but his voice comes out strained so it doesn’t hold much punch.

“Ya whatever, Demon.”

—

It’s night by the time I get to the square for whatever movie night the town’s having. Elena asked me to come earlier since she says everyone needs a break from all the chaos that has happened. I’m not excited to see how she’s going to react to the news about Damon. But for now, I’m grabbing my fluffy blanket and walking towards my friends and watching this stupid movie.

Jenna, Jeremy, Bonnie, and Caroline all sit together talking as I walk up behind them. 

“Hey guys,” I say and they all spin around to look at me. Bonnie and Jenna both send me warm smiles and waves, Caroline hops up and guides me over to the group talking my ear off already, and Jeremy tries to send me a smile but that dude looks like he would rather be anywhere else. 

“What errand took you so long,” Caroline questions.

“Oh, Theo just needed some help bringing back his football gear and stuff. I guess the coach has been bothering him to get it back for weeks since the season ended,” I say which isn’t a total lie since I did do that after leaving the Salvatores.

“How is Theo,” Jeremy asks. 

Ever since the funeral Jeremy and Theo have been gaming together. When I asked Theo about it,  he said he was doing it out of pity and that someone as cool as him wouldn’t hang out with an emo like Jeremy. But after passing by Theo’s room and hearing him and Jeremy laugh and make fun of each other over call, I don’t think Theo is really doing this out of pity anymore. After moving here and with everything that has happened with our parents it’s been hard for Theo to make friends. Even though he says otherwise. I know he has people to hang out with at school, but it’s all brainless jocks who probably don’t even care to know my brother’s favorite color. He needs a good friend like Jeremy in his life. 

“Theo’s good. Even though he was pissy this morning because he says you cheated last night,” I admit to him as I sit down next to Jenna and Caroline. 

Jeremy shoots me a look of disbelief, “I did not cheat! That jerk! He’s the one who cheated,” Jeremy lifts up his phone and starts angrily texting someone. A someone, who I’m guessing is my brother.

I look around noticing the absence of my best friend, “Where’s Elena?”

They all look at each other wearily before Bonnie grabs my hand, “You might want to prepare yourself for this.”

I look at her confused for a moment and whisper, “Is this about the Damon thing?”

“You knew?!’’

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“Bro!”

They all yell out and I raise my hands in surrender, “Hey! Stefana and Demon made me keep quiet. They didn’t want to stress anyone else out more.”

“How long have you known,” Caroline asks me and I grimace, “Like… since John’s funeral.”

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It just wasn’t my place to say.”

They think about this for a moment before nodding.

“Elena went to go talk to Damon and Stefan is off trying to find a cure,” Bonnie says.

“Let’s hope he finds one in time.”

We all quiet down after a moment and go back to watching the movie, but 5 minutes later I feel a tap on my right shoulder.

I shoot Jenna a questioning look as she leans down to whisper to me, “Anything from Elijah?”

I just send her a small shake of my head and she returns it with a comforting smile and a squeeze to my shoulder, “His loss then.”

Over the past few days of Jenna and I talking about the supernatural, we’ve also been chatting about other things like school and relationships. It took me a while to open up but after I did I brought up Elijah. Talking to Jenna about Elijah, and everything that’s happened with him has actually made me feel somewhat better. Jenna’s been more of a mother figure to me these past three days than my own mother has in almost 18 years. 

Out of the corner of my eye, Jeremy quickly stands up, capturing all of our attention. 

He hangs up the phone and turns back to us with a nervous look, “Damon escaped and Elena wasn’t there yet so Ric thinks he’s coming here to see her. Ric says the bite is making him hallucinate so he’s not himself right now.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter to myself and Jenna slightly elbows me and shoots me a disapproving look. 

“If Damon is off the rails, there is nothing you can do to stop him. Let us take care of it,” Bonnie gestures towards herself, and Caroline and I want to groan at this. It’s really starting to piss me off how the supernaturals keep pushing us humans away every time we want to help. Just because we don’t have super strength or heal within a split second doesn’t mean we’re useless.  

“You keep doing this! You left me behind before, and guess what, Elena was still killed,” Jeremy exclaims to his girlfriend, “I’m going to find my sister. You go ahead and try to stop me. Y/N, Jenna, you with me?” 

Jenna instantly nods and I shoot a look at Bonnie and Caroline before walking towards Jeremy, “Let’s go.”

—

“There he is!” 

I follow behind Jeremy as we see a wounded Damon staring off into space. Jenna left a while ago to go find Ric, leaving Little Gilbert and I to try to find Elena. “Damon,” Jeremy tries catching the attention of the delusional vamp and I watch with caution. 

“Where’s Elena? I need to see Elena now,” He frantically says and I send him a smile as Jeremy walks closer to him.

“Hey, let’s get you out of here first, alright,” Jeremy grabs Damon, who instantly falls into his arms. I go to the vampire’s other side and grab his arms trying to help Jeremy with the deadweight. 

After a bunch of odd stares and murmurs from passersby, we finally get Damon through the crowd and into the empty Grill.

Jeremy drops Damon off at a table and goes to tell Ric where we are. I’m still holding onto Damon's arm as I watch Jere, but turn around when I feel Damon do the same. And I freeze.

“Y/n, move I don’t want to hurt you,” Sheriff Forbes stands in front of us holding her gun and pointing at Damon. 

I go to try to reason to her but Damon flashes away, spooking Liz and all I hear is the sound of a gun and a piercing in my left arm. 

“Oh god,” Liz looks at me for a moment in shock but when she looks behind me her features go straight to fear. 

A strangled sob escapes my mouth as I watch Jeremy fall to the floor, his once-grey shirt turning red, as blood spills from his chest. 

“What the hell did you do,” I scream at Liz as I run over to Jeremy with tears in my eyes.

 I strip off my sweatshirt and place it over his bleeding chest.

“Come on Jeremy, you’re going to be alright,” I sob, “You’re going to be alright Jere,”

Another sob comes from my mouth as Jeremy’s shaking hand grabs mine for comfort. 

“I know this hurts but I have to keep pressure on it, okay. You’re going to be just fine.”

I can hear Liz call for paramedics as she tries to move my hands so she can hold down the sweatshirt.

“Don’t you dare,” I snarl at her and she sits back.

“Jeremy…Hey! Jere,” I shake my head as he closes his eyes. 

Bonnie and Caroline rush up to us and Caroline gently sets me back so she can try to help Jeremy. I sit there with silent sobs as I watch Bonnie tell Caroline that Jeremy’s ring won't bring him back since the sheriff is human. 

Caroline bites into her wrist and places it onto Jeremy’s mouth, “Go on, Jeremy. Drink.”

“What are you doing,” The sheriff questions her daughter even though she is not the one who should be speaking at all right now. 

“I’m helping him.”

I sit there with tears in my eyes as Jeremy doesn’t wake up and I know it’s because he’s dead. The others must realize this too because they all sit back with sobs of their own. The sound of a door opening captures my attention and I look up to see Ric and Jenna staring over at us.

“Bonnie what’s wrong,” Ric asks as he and Jenna run over to us. As soon as they see Jeremy though they halt. Jenna instantly falls to her knees crying and I crawl over to her ignoring the shooting pain in my arm. I grab her into my arms and she instantly latches to me and sobs into my shoulder. 

“I know what I need to do,” Bonnie says aloud as she stands, “I need you to grab him. T-Take him with us.”

“No, no, no, no. You can’t move him. This is a crime scene,” Liz tries denying which has me wanting to smack her. Jeremy’s dead all because of a prejudice she has.

“Mom, just let them go,” Caroline tells her mother and Liz stands up so Ric can grab Jeremy’s body.

“Okay. Alright, come here, buddy. I got you,” Ric says and I hug Jenna tighter.

—-

Bonnie sits in front of us chanting over Jeremy’s body. Candles around us burn hotter as Bonnie shakes her head, “No.”

“What? What is it,” Ric asks.

“They’re angry at me for coming back here. They don’t wanna help.”

I shake my head in denial.

  “Well, they have to.”

Bonnie looks at Jeremy with tears in her eyes, “They said there’ll be consequences.”

“Well, he’s just a kid. Tell’em to shut up.”

Bonnie continues chanting and the witch house starts to shake.

“Emily! I know you’re there. Please help me. I love him.”

Jenna, Ric, and I watch in silent horror as everything stops and Jeremy is still lifeless. Bonnie cries holding him and Jenna crawls over to her dead nephew. 

I look down at Jeremy and let out a sob of relief as I see him flutter his eyes open. 

I sigh deeply as I watch Jenna and Bonnie hug Jeremy. 

“Y/N?”

I turn to Ric who is staring at my arm, I watch as he slowly lifts his fingers and touches my shirt. I fight the urge to groan in annoyance as I look at the fresh blood on his fingers. 

“Anyone want to take me to the hospital?”

—

“OK, so it appears you’ve lost quite a bit of blood,” The doctor tells me as he tapes gauze over the gunshot wound on my shoulder. I have a gunshot wound. I was shot. What the hell?! Somehow the bullet that killed Jeremy went right through the upper part of my shoulder. 

Ric and Jenna had dropped me off about an hour ago. They insisted on staying, but I told them my mother would be here soon and they should get back to Jeremy. 

“We’re going to have to give you some blood. Do you happen to know what you’re blood type is? It appears that on your medical records, your mother and father’s blood types are listed but yours isn’t.”

I shake my head, “I’ve never had to get blood drawn before so I don’t know.” 

The doctor nods, “That’s fine. We would give you the universal donor blood but for some reason, we’ve had a shortage in blood lately,” I nod along as if I don’t know exactly why that is, “But we’ll take some of your blood and do a test then find out what your type is.”

I nod and thank him.

“We called your mother but it seems she can’t get out of work and your father didn’t answer. Is there anyone else you’d like to call to be with you?”

My heart hurts as I think about how both my parents couldn’t bother to come to see their own daughter in the hospital, “Um...no thank you. I’m alright.”

The doctor sends me a smile, but he looks almost as hurt about my parents not being here as I am. Tell me about it man. I watch silently as he takes a vial of my blood, tells me he’ll have my results soon, and then leaves. 

Great who the hell is going to drive me home?

—

I’m awoken by a small shake to my uninjured shoulder. I squint my eyes to see the doctor from before looking down at me wearily. 

At this, I try to sit up but waves of pain stop me.

“Don’t move sweetheart it’ll just rip open your stitches,” The doctor gently pushes me back down. But the look on his face makes me nervous.

“Is everything ok,” I question. 

The doctor is silent before he shows me a blood bag, “I was able to find a match for you, but… your blood type is Type B,” His tone and words confuse me. Wouldn’t he be relieved he was able to find me blood?

“I don’t understand,” I shake my head in confusion.

“I don’t know if I should be telling you this without a parent present. I could be fired,” He says to himself as if he’s fighting some internal battle. 

“Please… what are you talking about?”

The doctor places a hand on my shoulder and frowns at me, “Your mother’s blood type is Type A, and your father’s is Type O,” At the confusion still clearly on my face he sighs, “Genetically those two blood types combinations can only produce Type A and O children. So…”

My entire world seems to come down crashing on top of me as he finishes his sentence.

“You can’t be related, biologically, to your father.”

[triptuckers]

sparring sessions - percy jackson

Request: yes! "ok so ik it’s kinda (by kind of i mean VERY) cliche, but i was wondering if u could do like an angst -> fluff where like percy and reader get into a fight n stuff and he like admits that he loves them??" Pairing:  percy jackson x reader Summary:  when an argument between you and percy gets heated, some things are revealed Warnings:  mentions of injuries and blood, arguing, angst Word count:  858 A/N: raaaaaahhh I LOVE me some cliche's LETS GO !! thanks for you request, enjoy!

it started out as an innocent sparring session between percy and jake, a hephaestus kid. a couple kids from hermes, hephaestus, and athena decided to get together to train. you and percy also joined.

you'd been at camp longer than percy, so you had trained him in the beginning. the two of you often train together even though percy is now better than you.

but somehow he still looks at you while sparring with someone else. if it's to read your facial expressions or just because you're in his line of sight, you're not sure.

but today it nearly went wrong.

while percy and jake were sparring, percy was looking at you and too late to block jake's sword. he managed to make a deep cut in percy's arm.

the session was immediately ended and percy put his sword away. while the other kids continued their training session, you walked away. you couldn't stay there and be around percy right now. clearly he hadn't listened to you.

but percy, having seen your face, follows you.

as soon as you get to percy's cabin - which provides you with more privacy than your own - you turn around to look at him with an irritated look on your face.

'I told you to ignore me if you're sparring!' you say.

percy frowns. but nothing bad happened? why are you mad at him? besides, he can't look away from you when he's sparring. he thought you knew this.

'and how am I supposed to do that?' says percy, watching as you take off your armor and neatly put it away. 'you're the one that taught me. of course I need to see if you think I'm doing a good job.'

you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. you're trying so hard to stay calm right now.

'of course I think you're doing a good job, percy.' you say. 'I know you're good at what you do. but you'd do a great job if you would listen to my advice and avoid getting stabbed.'

percy makes a soft offended noise. 'first of all, I didn't get stabbed. I got nicked!'

you groan out loud 'percy! come on, don't be stubborn!'

'I'm the one being stubborn? you should see yourself when you're sparring. you want it to be perfect but fighting never is! it's messy, no matter how good you train someone.'

'I'm going for a walk.' you say, before you get angrier and say things you don't mean.

you grab your armor and walk towards the door, but he steps in front of you, blocking the doorway.

'oh no, you're not. we're not done yet.' says percy, crossing his arms over his chest, displaying the cut on his arm that he didn't have time to heal yet.

'got more to say?' you say.

'yes. you never did actually tell me what I did wrong.' says percy. 'you're mad, I can tell. but you didn't tell me what it was that I did that's made you mad.'

'yes I did. I told you that you need to ignore me when you're sparring. focus all of you attention on the opponent, not me.'

'I can't do that.'

'can't focus on the opponent? I noticed.'

'that's not what I meant!'

'then what do you mean!'

'I meant I can't ignore you when I'm sparring!' says percy loudly. 'I can never ignore you, don't you understand that? whenever you're near you always have my attention, I can never look away. even when you're not near me I'm thinking about you. gods, you're always on my mind because I love you, okay? so I'm sorry if I can't look away from you when I'm sparring!'

you hadn't realised how close you were to each other. now percy's face is close to yours, both of you breathing heavily.

you knew percy liked you, obviously. you wouldn't be staying in his cabin almost every night if he didn't. but this? even though you knew percy had liked you for a long time, you hadn't been together for that long.

'you love me?' you say in a soft voice, feeling your anger and irritation ebb away.

percy closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he just now realises what he said. then he sighs and when he opens his eyes and looks at you, there's nothing but sweetness in them.

'yeah. I do.' says percy. 'I've loved you for a long time, actually.'

you smile and want to say something but percy's eyes widen.

'wait, shit, is that too soon? should I have waited to say it? oh gods if I-'

'percy.' you say, shutting him up by stepping even closer to him.

'it's okay. I love you too.' you say.

percy grins and his eyes twinkle. without warning, he puts his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips against yours. he can feel the smile on your lips.

when he pulls back, you're both smiling.

'you still want to go on that walk?' says percy.

'definitely not.' you say.

percy laughs and kisses you again, your argument already forgotten.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[erenjaegerwifee]

✧₊⁺ Crushing pt 2

✨yall asked and shall receive! Here’s a part 2 of this drabble. I hope Yall like it! Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!

✨Warnings: MDNI 18+, friends to lovers, belly bulge, fingering, p in v, neteyam writes on you

✨Word Count: 2.3k (this was supposed to be a drabble).

✨ all my characters are aged-up! If you’re uncomfortable please do not interact with my post.

“So y/n can I ask you something?” Neteyam mumbled as you both sat together eating some fruit he picked for you. It’s been a couple of weeks since he saw you wearing that his name on your back and since then he’s been easing you into the idea of spending time with him. He has successfully managed to make you set a couple hours just for him alone which makes him extremely happy.

“Go for it” you answered waiting for his question, “I saw an avatar the other day, he had a tattoo on his shoulder and it reminded me of the Metkayina when we went…I know it’s also a human thing, have you ever considered getting one?” Neteyam asked sweetly.

His ears twitched as he looked down at you sitting so cute and small on the log, he looked like a giant next to you, but that wasn’t something that bothered him anymore after he over heard Kiri and Lo’ak talking to you about like na’vi men. He knows he has a shot he just needs to act before someone else does.

“Oh yea I have a couple right now I was hoping to get some more, I like how they look I just can’t decide what to get” you chuckle. Your laugh was ever as beautiful but that’s not what caught his attention this time, how could he have not known u have tattoos already, all the man does in his spare time is look at you.

“You have? Since when?” He asked his tone was surprised, you expected it, no one besides the woman who gave you the tattoo knows you have them. It’s not a secret really but you just never thought anyone would care. You thought it was cute neteyam was so interested. “I got my first one when I was 19 and my second about 6-7 months ago. It just finished healing.”

You’ve had this tattoo for years? And he’s never seen them? How? “Can I see them?” He blurted out making you giggle, “I can’t show you out here silly”Oh so these are intimate tattoos, even better.

“I have one behind me ear and the other on my ribs” you gestured to the places with your hands as you finish eating the fruit. “I’ll show you, let’s go back to the lab” you jump off the log and Neteyam follows suit walking behind you.

When you arrive to the lab neteyam pushed the door open for you to walk in and you take your mask off and he grabs one throwing it around his neck. Neteyam followed you through the hallways bending down so he could fit, he looked cute crouched down like that.

You walk into your room and shut the door behind you, Neteyam naturally made his way to sit on your bed, it was a big bed he could fit there easily but it was low to the floor so when he sat down, he was almost at your height but not quite.

“Ok look” you walked up to him and stood were his knees were and pulled your hair over your shoulder pulling it back for him to see the cute atokirina behind your ear behind your ear lobe (I’ll put pics of the tattoos I imagine below) it was small he couldn’t see it probably from his far away you were.

Instinctively he put his large hands on your bicep and waist and pulled you closer slotting you in between his legs. His head moved closer to see you your tattoo and your felt his breath on your collarbone as he looked at it.

You’ve never been in this kind of compromising position before especially not with neteyam. It made you slick, you squeeze your thighs together hoping his amazing na’vi nose doesn’t pick up in the scent change.

“Atokirina…” he whispered next to your ear “Tsal lu yuey sìn nga” (it is beautiful on you) his voice made your shiver, you took a deep breathe trying to calm your raging hormones. Neteyam’s hand that was on your bicep now ran through your hair pushing it back more and brought his head down so his lips could touch your tattoo.

You gasped at the feeling of him kissing you there, it was always a sensitive spot for you. Your eyes shut as his tongue darts out to taste your skin, “taste like you..”

“Neteyam… it’s healed you wouldn’t taste the ink” your voice was breathy and your legs felt weak. It was only when he heard your voice he realized what he was doing to you and boy did he love these cute reactions, “where’s the other one?”

He pulled back his head and look at you, your face was slightly blushed and your lip was trapped between your teeth, “here…” you raised you r-shirt up to right under your bra pointing to the tattoos of the knife curved under your left breast with 2 feathers hanging off the handle.

Neteyam recognized that knife, it was the one you made go him when he passed his rites of passage at 15 years old. It was 10 years ago but he never changed that knife for anything. “my knife”

“Well yea I thought it fit nicely in the spo- what are you doing neteyam” his hands moved to the base of the t-shirt you were holding up and pulled it swiftly over your head exposing you in your bra and cute shorts. Your bra was a pretty baby pink with a bow in the center.

“Neteyam!” Your hands fly down to cover your bra, “mawey (calm), just want a better look.” He pulled your close by your arms that were crossed on your chest and then pushed them out of the way so he can see the tattoo. His head dipped examining the details that are his knife on your body.

His lips met the stop kissing it before darting his tongue out making you suck in a breath. “You look beautiful, so so pretty with these, you want more?” He asked you.

You nodded your head meekly at him trying to stop your panties from leaking. “Where?”

“M-my back maybe, my thighs” you said softly. He smiled, his head came back up holding his body up to his full height. Neteyam’s hands sat on your hips running up and down twisting your small frame in his hands. He loved the way his fingered unintentionally touching when it crawls up to your waist.

He has you so close to him, his scent invades your nose so you could imagine how strongly you must smell to him. “Tell me to stop?” You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want him to stop.

Neteyam kissed you softly on the lips, his finger tips squeezed your flesh as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. His lips were so soft and tender. His mouth was much bigger than yours, his kiss progressively got more heated and his grip on your body got more intense.

You pulled away feeling Neteyam strain his body for air and brought the mask that hung on his chest up to his mouth. Neteyam took in a deep breath looking at you with his golden eyes. He is so fucking fine!

He pushed you aside and grabbed a dark blue permanent marker that sat in your desk. He pulled you onto his lap making sure you get comfortable before he leaned back against the wall next to your bed. “Gonna let me draw some tattoos on you baby? Want one here right?” His large hand slide up your thighs making you shiver and you nodded your head meekly.

Neteyam opened the marker and slipped his head to your neck sucking in your soft skin. Your human skin bruised so easily he absolutely loved how sucking on you for 3 seconds could turn you red.

Your eyes were closed as you took in the feeling of his tongue on your skin and his hand moving lightly with the cool marker pressed against your leg, you couldn’t see what he was writing so when he pulled away na moved the marker you looked down at your thigh. There in bold capital letters was NETEYAM on the entire length of your thigh.

The slight made you blush, is he staking claim? Is this some kind of ownership? Whatever it is you are loving every part of it. You don’t touch it not wanting to smear the writing but you glance up at him only to see him waiting for your reaction.

You lean forward and kiss him roughly on the lips. “Neteyam will you do something for me?” You pull away batting your eyes at him, “anything baby”

“Fuck me” your request caught him off guard but he proceeded anyways. He picked you up and laid you on the bed softly, he kneeled on the bed in front of you pulling off your shorts and underwear in one swift move. Neteyam laid on the bed next to you throwing your left leg over his thighs, and pushing your right up in the air spreading your legs. Neteyam observed your soaking folds gliding a finger through them collecting your slick.  

He brought the finger up to his lips to taste you with a sweet hum he brought his finger back down to circle your clit. With another finger he slid into your weeping hole. You head your head on his shoulder as you watch his movements with him, his other arm was thrown over your shoulder keeping you close as he finger fucks you open.  

Neteyam added another finger then another speeding up his pace until he was shaking your entire lower body, “Neteyamm AHH” you scream when you gush on his fingers. Your head was buried in his neck kissing his warm skin softly as he assaulted your cunt.  

Neteyam pulls his fingers out licking them clean before be lays flat on his back and moves you to his lap, straddling his hips. “Now baby, where else do you wanna get a tattoo?” Your mind was woozy as you stared at him, you still felt the stretch of his fingers in your cunt. Your hands press onto his abdomen leaning forward, your hair fall in front of your body. 

Neteyam wraps as arm around your back and with his fingers he unhooks your bra ad falls down your arms exposing you to him. Your tits bounce when they fall free and Neteyam’s eyes were glued to them. You took notice and guided his hands towards them so he can touch you. 

You bit your lip feeling the way he tugged on your nipples. “I- uh, I think on my collarbone and my back, my legs, maybe right over here” you run your fingers over the side of your waist where it curves inward so perfectly. Neteyam didn’t waste a moment scrambling for the marker and pulling you close right his initials, ‘N.S.’ above your collarbone where your shoulder meets your neck. 

Then he moved the marker down writing the nickname you call him ‘TEYAM’ vertically down the side of your abdomen. He dropped the mark after admiring his works and pulled you up to sit on his abdomen while he unties his loincloth. You drop your body down kissing his while he does, your breast press against his hard chest as you stick your tongue in his mouth fighting for dominance which he won. When you pull away a string of spit connect both your lips and he raised you up laying you on the bed and him on top of you.  

Your body is dwarfed beneath his as he lines his cock up with your dripping slit and slowly push into you. This is the first time you’ve ever seen a cock so big you weren’t sure it was going to fit in you. As if he read your mind, he bent his body over so he face is in front of yours and kissed you, distracting you from the painful stretch.  

You focus all your attention on the way his tongue moves so seamlessly with yours and you don’t even realize when he’s bottomed out inside you until you hear his grunt. “So tight baby, so fucking tight” Neteyam groaned, his head dropped down onto your shoulder and you wrap your legs around his sexy waist and locked them together. 

Neteyam started moving slowly listening to your loud whimpers, you’ve never been so full before. “Tey, s-so full” he pulled his head up to look down at you admiring they blush that traveled down your hot skin. His eyes traveled down your body, watching the way your tits bounce with his every thrust making him speed up to see them bounce harder.  

His faster pace made you tear up, your jaw was slack you couldn’t even form sounds because he was fucking you so good. Neteyam admired the writing he left on your skin, and his eyes made it to your tummy, your every full, bulging tummy. His eyes widen slightly as he watched the imprint of his huge cock moving in and out of you. When he bottoms out, his tip was right up to your belly button. 

When you come on his cock your moan loudly and gush on him. Neteyam felt his entire cock get wetter in your snug cunt and his head dips down into your tits sucking on your nipples as he speeds up his thrust. He pulls out and lends back stroking his cock so he can cum on your body, “Fuck, fuck gonna cum on you baby” he whimpers as his cock shot up onto your breast and stomach.  

Neteyam was panting as he dropped to the side of you looking at the mess he made of your body. He grabbed his discarded loincloth and whipped the cum down and off your body pulling you close to him, “You did so well for me baby, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked his voice was concerned. “No, no it was amazing tey” you said in a weak voice.  

“Hey baby, next time I see my name on you, want it to be permanent.” he kissed your neck wrapping his big arms around your body. And who were you to deny him what he wants? 

Taglist:

@rivatar @xylianasblog @strongheartneteyam @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz @quicktosimp @its-jennarose @r11k4 @xrollingmyeyesx