#like this is an actual nightmare. but no one seems to agree with me so i’m just going to have to continue to live like this i guess

[quotesfrommyreading]

When I’m out with Deaf friends, I put my hearing aid in my purse. It removes any ability to hear, but far more importantly, it removes the ambiguity that often haunts me.

In a restaurant, we point to the menu and gesture with the wait staff. The servers taking the order respond with gestures too. They pantomime “drinks?” and tell us they learned a bit of signs in kindergarten. Looking a little embarrassed, they sign “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day” in the middle of asking our salad dressing choice. We smile and gently redirect them to the menu. My friends are pros at this routine and ordering is easy ― delightful even. The contrast with how it feels to be out with my hearing husband is stunning.

Once my friends and I have ordered, we sign up a storm, talking about everything and shy about nothing. What would be the point? People are staring anyway. Our language is lavish, our faces alive. My friends discuss the food, but for me, the food is unimportant. I’m feasting on the smorgasbord of communication ― the luxury of chatting in a language that I not only understand 100% but that is a pleasure in and of itself. Taking nothing for granted, I bask in it all, and everything goes swimmingly.

Until I accidentally say the word “soup” out loud.

Pointing at the menu, I let the word slip out to the server. And our delightful meal goes straight downhill. Suddenly, the wait staff’s mouths start flapping; the beautiful, reaching, visual parts of their brains go dead, as if switched off.

“Whadda payu dictorom danu?” the server’s mouth seems to say. “Buddica taluca mariney?”

“No, I’m Deaf,” I say. A friend taps the server and, pointing to her coffee, pantomimes milking a cow. But the damage is done. The server has moved to stand next to me and, with laser-focus, looks only at me. Her pen at the ready, her mouth moves like a fish. With stunning speed, the beauty of the previous interactions ― the pantomiming, the pointing, the cooperative taking of our order ― has disappeared. “Duwanaa disser wida coffee anmik? Or widabeeaw fayuh-mow?”

Austin “Awti” Andrews (who’s a child of Deaf adults, often written as CODA) describes a similar situation.

“Everything was going so well,” he says. “The waiter was gesturing, it was terrific. And then I just said one word, and pow!! It’s like a bullet of stupidity shot straight into the waiter’s head,” he explains by signing a bullet in slow motion, zipping through the air and hitting the waiter’s forehead. Powwwww.

Hearing people might be shocked by this, but Deaf people laugh uproariously, cathartically.

“Damn! All I did was say one word!” I say to my friends. “But why do you do that?” they ask, looking at me with consternation and pity. “Why don’t you just turn your voice off, for once and for all?” they say.

Hearing people would probably think I’m the lucky one ― the success story ― because I can talk. But I agree with my friends.

  —  I'm Deaf And I Have 'Perfect' Speech. Here's Why It's Actually A Nightmare.

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X AFAB!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always like you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your licks isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

[theheadlessphilosopher]

-

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't load enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to and your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully your resting respect.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[pigeonpeach]

Mother and Father

A/n: Its genuinely wild to me how i went from like only porn bots following me to like actually 291 followers! It almost doesn’t feel real but I’m so grateful for you all! I held a poll earlier to determine who’d id write for as celebration for the milestone and arlecchino won! So here it is!

Prompt: how I met your mother

Arlecchino x fem reader

Your job wasn’t too easy, but it also wasn’t too hard. You loved kids. You found their antics amusing, you found it hard to suppress a smile when they looked so cute. With Arlecchino’s most recent addition: Lyney and Lynette however is when you truly came out of your shell.

The children watched as you sewed together their favorite teddy bear. A disagreement earlier led to the bear torn right down the middle.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” one child cowered.

“You know better now, you guys have to be careful with these. We don’t get toys too often now.” You gently scolded. The other children seemed a bit surprised. Including the guilty ones.

“So… you aren’t mad?”

“Not that much. You’re kids, its natural that you may wreck your belongings. You must learn to be more careful and how to repair them. But you are too young Talia, I’ll teach you how to sew when you get a bit older. Then you can repair your own toys.” You pat her on the head.

“I’m sorry.. I’ll do better next time.” Talia looked down as you raised her face to meet yours.

“I’m not mad Talia, i just want you to be more careful next time that’s all. Okay?” You changed your tone to be more sweet. Talia teared up a bit. You out the bear aside as you used your hands to wipe her tears, you placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay… can I help in some way?” She asked.

“Yes. I want you to gather all the stuffing Mr Bear lost so i can put it back in him. Okay?” You said. She nodded as she set off to retrieve it.

It didn’t take too long for the kids to like you. You were sweet and soft spoken. Your hold was gentle and loving, and they’d come to love your kisses. Especially Lyney.

“Lyney you know you should be asleep, your father won’t like it if you wake up too early.” You gently chided. He stubbornly attached himself to your thigh even more so. “Lyney you know I can’t just stand around all day. I have to make breakfast.” You couldn’t even kneel down.

“No..no… where my lynette… wheres my sister?” He cried. You brushed his hair lovingly.

“Your sister is in the girl’s barracks now. I’m sorry it must be hard to get used to that.” You knelt down carefully as he nuzzled his face against you.

“Can.. I see her? Please?” He looked at you so sweetly how could you resist. You picked him up, resting him against your chest as you headed over to where Lynette would be.

“Just be quiet now. We don’t want to wake anyone up.” You said.

“Why are you up then? Father won’t let us out until 6am.”

“Because I’m her employee, you, are her child. My job is to prepare you all breakfast. And my only help is sick today.” You sighed. Lyney seemed to think for a bit.

“Maybe i could help you?” He said. You thought about it. It would be better than nothing.

“Alright then. Just be sure to not let Father catch you out so late.” You smiled. Opening the door to the girl’s barracks, you noticed Lynette stood up from her bed. Quietly she crawled off her bed and trotted over to you, her little tail swaying in a excited manner. You felt your heart melt seeing how happy she looked to see her brother. This was their first night apart. You gently let Lyney down as he immediately hugged her.

“Brother, did you sleep?” She asked innocently.

“Not well. I kept having nightmares.” He said. She seemed to understand. “Lynette, we must help today.” Lyney leaned into Lynette’s ear “She said she has to prepare breakfast alone.” He said. Lynette seemed to agree.

“Well you don’t have to. You two could just go back to sleep.” You said. They shook their head.

“No no.. we must help.” Lynette said. You sighed. You couldn’t say no to them. They were just cute and determined, Lynette in particular was such a cutie with the bowtie on her tail. You struggled to maintain your composure as your instincts screamed at you to just pepper kisses on her cute little face and hug her tightly. But you held back.

“Alright just be quiet.” You said. The three of you now set off to the kitchen. You realized quickly that it’d be difficult for them to help given how short they are.

Nonetheless the twins were persistent. They cracked the eggs with caution. Lyney eagerly scrambling them as you prepared the wok for it. Its not easy cooking for so many children. But you’ve gotten used to it. A lot of what they eat is prepared by rations sent by various companies partnered with the Fatui. But the children always preferred fresh scrambled eggs than the ones in the rations, you noticed that when you do so they’re far happier and more well behaved. The only problem is how much that requires.

“We’ve finished the first batch.” Lynette held out the bowl of liquid eggs with pride as you smiled. There was thankfully no shells you could spot. But you trusted she would notice. Lynette was the most observant.

“Hmmm.. yes this is satisfactory indeed. Get to start on the next one and we should be finished.” You said.

The children were delighted to have fresh eggs ready for them. Even if they weren’t actually fresh but just warm. You helped portion out each child’s plate which took almost forever. But hearing their happy little ‘thank you’s helped you feel better. The room was filled with chatter and laughter.

“I worry you spoil them too much.”

You jolted as you looked behind you. “A-arlecchino!” You were a bit surprised. “Its just that… they’ve been working so hard lately I wanted to reward them with something small.” You explained, trembling. The children fell silent as they watched with anticipation for her reaction. But Arlecchino didn’t seem upset, nor angry or sinister. She was always hard to read however.

“I see. Children.” She sai, every child looked at her with alertness. “Since your caretaker has gone out of your way to provide you a must delicious meal, I expect no slacking off today’s training yes?” She said with authority.

“Yes father!” The children said in unison.

“You may continue eating.”she then turned to you. “Did.. you buy these eggs yourself?” You nodded. “Your own money correct?” You nodded. She looked over you, her gaze feeling almost… warm? You weren’t too certain. “Don’t work yourself too much next time. If you want to arrange such rewards I’d be happy to help. As long as its within reason of course.” She said with a surprising softness. You gulped.

“Th-thank you. W-would you like some?” You smiled nervously. Little did you know in that moment was the start of her ever growing feelings for you. But she merely shook her head.

“I’ll have whats leftover. I have my own chef so I wouldn’t like to deprive the children of their food.” She said. “Keep up the good work. I’ll be looking forward to it.” She said walking away. You looked on in awe, you knew she was scary yes, but something about her didn’t seem nearly as menacing. You weren’t sure but.. it appears you made a good impression on her. The children looked at you, concerned until you smiled at them.

“And you ordered… 67 bags of flour for the orphans? Yeah right don’t they have rations.” The rude guard said. The seller seemed a bit upset at the guard too.

“I’ve already told you that I work for the house of hearth as a caretaker. What crime could i be committing with this much flour anyways? I paid for it, every cent is paid. What is your deal!” You were annoyed at this rate. The guard seemed to not back down.

“Well how do I know if you have some secret? Huh?”

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” A voice came from the crowd that formed. You recognized it as one of the children you cared for, a teenage boy named Andrej. “You are a officer are you not? Do you not know it is illegal to falsely accuse someone without a trial to prove one’s guilt first? You shameful man! You dare to use your power for what exactly?” You were a bit surprised at his actions. He’d always been so quiet when you handled him, you didn’t know he’d value you so much.

“Why you-“

“He’s right though. What exactly are you doing officer! Picking on innocent civilians!” Another joined in. You recognized them as Danica. The officer quickly seemed surprised.

“Well i-“

“Zip it! Just wait until the Knave finds out the guards have been unjustly harassing her employees.”

“Please calm down you two. There’s no need to get that worked up here.” You said, placing a hand on their shoulders. “We’ll just file a report and be done with it.” The guard looked shock as they backed off.

“Don’t mess with our mother.” Andrej whispered at him.

“Andrej told me you were harassed today?” Arlecchino asked as you just settled in the flours into the walk in pantry.

“Just a powerhungry guard. I can handle it.”

“It isn’t a matter of wether or not you can handle it. Its a matter of why he felt it was okay to do so in the first place.” She stood infront of you. Looking down. “My children adore you alot, they would do anything for you. But they also shouldn’t have to. Rest assured, that man will be dealt with.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble that’s all. I’m not that fragile.” You said.

“Its no trouble to me. You are very important for the children’s wellbeing and morale. Infact I was wondering if you could do full time. Increased pay, more breaks of course. Don’t worry about the walk home at night. You will have a escort.” She said. You felt quite surprised.

“I’ll take you up on that offer then.” You smiled. She seemed to calm down.

“Very good then. Next time, let them your children protect you, its their way of repaying your generosity.” She left then. But you wondered what she meant by ‘your’ children.

“I don’t want him to touch me no please!” You heard little Lynette cry in her sleep. You had been passing the barracks ready to clock out when your maternal instincts kicked in. You bursted through the door rushing to her bed. You sighed in relief seeing she was okay.

“Lynette?” You called. She moved in her sleep. “Lynette!” You sat by her side until she woke up. Her eyes teary as she backed away. “Its just me sweetie. Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you.” You offered your hand to her, to your surprise she rubbed her face against it. She wiped her tears as she came closer to you.

“I had a scary dream.. that’s all.” She said.

“I know.. do you want to tell me about it?” You asked. She shook her head. “Alright then, how about I make you some tea?”

“Tea?” She asked. “Isn’t that for staying up? That’s what father drinks.”

“There’s a special one I have, its to relax yourself. Come.” You stood up, she followed suit as the other girls sneakily watched.

You set the kettle on the stove as you showed her the packet.

“This is the special tea, you don’t use this if you want to stay awake. See the packaging is purple. Use it sparingly though. Now we boil the water and when its warm enough we just add it in. You’ll see.” You said, Lynette watched observantly. You could still see she was a little bit shaken up.

“Can I ask you something?” Lynette seemed nervous, though her face was stoic, her hands fidgeted with her bow.

“Of course dear.” You smiled warmly at her. Unbeknownst to you some of the other girls had snuck out to head your conversation. Many unable to sleep as well.

“Father is.. well our father. Because she provides for us and guides us. I once heard that a mother is the one who gives warmth and love to a child.. you fit that definition perfectly to me.. it feels wrong to call you miss or caretaker so much… could I call you mother?” She asked. Your heart soared. You took a minute to steady yourself. “Did i say something wrong?���

“No-no… its just..” you wipe a tear before she could spot it. “I’d love that Lynette. I don’t mind being called mother if that’s what you or anyone else wants to call me.” You said smiling.

“But why are you crying then?” Another voice asked. A little girl hiding in the shadows with a few others.

“How ling have you been there.” You said confused.

“We couldn’t sleep.. we just wanted some tea too.” The other girl said.

“Very well. Don’t make this too much of a habit though. We don’t have enough teabags for everyone to have tea time.” You said.

As Arlecchino walked the halls intending to just head to her sleeping quarters, the echo of laughter came from downstairs. Skeptical she immediately descended the stairs, pausing to watch as you sat with 5 little girls in a circle drinking tea.

“See you hold out your pinky like this, then you take a few sips at a time.” You whispered. The girls followed suit. Arlecchino leaned against the wall as she felt a sense of pride in her cold heart. Something about you was warm, warmer than her vision, warmer than the sun, and gentler than any cotton. Something about you made her forget the curfew as she focused on how domestic of a scene it was. In that moment you weren’t her caretaker or her employee, but the mother to her children.

“Like this?” A older girl showed her cup. They were empty currently as you waited for the water to cool. The cup slanted, if it was full it would’ve scorched her lap. But you had been clever not to allow so.

“You still use your other fingers Tanya. Oh see, Lynette had got it.” You smiled. The other girls followed suit.

“What do adults use teatime for? It seems so long..”

“Well typically you do so to relax and unwind if you’re alone, or to talk with other adults in a more causal but still refined setting.” You explained.

“What do they talk about then?” Lynette asked. Arlecchino noticed how her tail would curve slightly as she and the rest of the children sat at one of the dinning tables.

“Buisness, personal life… boring stuff. But sometimes its gossip.” You smile. The girls seem intrigued.

“What kind?”

“Well.. I heard that allegedly, miss Trudane, a very upperlady, may have altered her unwed brother’s will to make herself the sole beneficiary to his estate.” You smile. The girls light up in shock and intrigue.

“Really? Wait is that true?”

“Sh! Mother said to be quiet remember.”

Arlecchino felt herself soften at that. The children we’re referring to her as mother.. if she was their father and they their mother then.. her heart blossomed as she clutched her chest composing herself. She strode in catching the group by surprise.

“Father.” The girls lowered their heads.

“I’m actually rather curious, how do you know that?” Arlecchino asked looking at you.

“O-oh well it is just gossip. I heard it through the grapevine that’s all.” You said nervously.

“Do you by chance have another cup available? I’d like some tea myself if you wouldn’t mind.” She said. The children seemed surprised and almost excited as you quickly agreed. Getting up to get another cup while she sat next to where you did. Lynette looking up at her with curiosity.

“Y-you’re not mad?”

“No. I myself couldn’t sleep actually. So I’ll let this slide, don’t let this become a habit.” She said.

After sending the children to bed you and Arlecchino were left. You kissed each girl on the forehead while she watched from the doorway. Sense of comfort placated her as she thought of you. How she wished she had a figure like you when she was younger. How you now provide a loving mother figure for her children that she has thought of being. You both exit closing the door.

“Its late, If you want I could escort you myself, or you could stay the night.” She offered.

“S-stay?”

“I have a guest room you can stay in. Its in the upper levels though.” She said. You noticed it began to rain outside.

“I suppose I’d have to… by the way.. did you hear the conversation where they asked to call me.. mother?” You asked.

“I didn’t but I see no problems with it. The children have been robbed of any normal family life, abandoned by their societies with no love in sight, how could I ever deny them a mother when they have you. You work so hard to make sure each one is loved and cared for.. I have a great deal of respect for you.” Your heart raced seeing her smile, a gentle and genuine warmth from her.

“Thank you. That- that means alot to me.” Your cheeks dusted with pink as you smiled.

You truly became irreplaceable in the eyes of your children. They all clamored to protect you at any given moment. You noticed while cleaning up some drawings what looked to be picture of you and Arlecchino, side by side like husband and and wife. In the style that many family portraits are often drawn. You felt a little warm thinking about it. Arlecchino is a terrifying woman yes but… she is so kind to you. She is so soft and gentle with you, she protects you, you feel very safe in her presence nowadays. And the children, they’ve become more happy with you around. They call you mother and her father, a bond that is almost romantic to you. Its almost a bit embarrassing to you because you two aren’t romantically involved. Yet it seems now the children expect it.. Today would be mother’s day, and you anticipated having alot of gifts.

You actually underestimated how many you would receive. A plethora of drawings you planned on putting in a scrapbook, a surprising amount of jewelry that the children would combine their savings to afford, and even a little origami crane from some of the creative children. Freminet’s gift was quite noteworthy to you as he gave you the most pretty clam you had seem. Lyney and Lynette had gifted you a most beautiful earring set along with heartfelt letters that had you in tears. The excitement died down however as the children were sent for today’s training session. You watched from afar as the kids participated in physical activities. To your surprise Arlecchino came over to you once more, in her hands she held a most delicate box. You were a bit confused.

“Its only appropriate I award the mother of my children handsomely. It is mother’s day afterall, so take this as a token of my gratitude.” She said. You carefully took it. The children from afar noticed you two as some watched expectantly.

“Are they going to kiss?” Talia whispered.

“Shh!”

Your jaw dropped seeing the most intricate necklace. It fit your style nicely as she smiled at you with the most soft of looks you had seen in anyone. Your heart beat fast as you noticed the slight red in her cheeks.

“Thank you so much.. I- i truly cannot thank you enough..” you smiled gratefully at her. In that moment there was a sense of love you felt, her hands gently taking the necklace from its box.

“Here let me put it on you.” She said. Her fingertips brushing against your skin as you realized she wasn’t wearing gloves. Oh how your heart raced as you looked in the mirror she offered.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You said instinctively hugging her. Her hands in turn wrapped around your body.

“They’re hugging! Oh my gosh!”

“Talia be quiet father will hear you!”

Arlecchino’s gifts didn’t stop at mother’s day however. You frequently received flowers from her that you often used to decorate the house of hearth’s barracks or play areas, mainly because you ran out of space in your own home. Besides, you had been spending so much time here now that your house felt more like a hotel than a home at times. You were reading a book silently as the children gathered around reading in silence.

“Mother..” Lyney shamefully approached you as lynettr and freminet had their heads down. “Could I.. confess something to you?” You felt skeptical. What could he have done to warrant such shame? They weren’t troublemakers by any means, if he broke something then he wouldn’t be this upset…

“Go on.” You placed a book mark as you listened to him carefully. He leaned into your ear to whisper: “Lynette and I snuck in a stray cat we found.. and we have fed it for awhile now keeping it in the barracks.. but it must’ve gotten out because we can’t find it anywhere. Have you heard anything?”

“I know it was wrong but.. I couldn’t bare to see such a creature be homeless.” Freminet mumbled. You smiled.

“Oh dear you should’ve told me! I could’ve taken in the kitty myself and bring him with me here! But I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind having a cat here.” You patted his head. “I’ll help you look for him, you keep looking down here, I’ll go check out the upstairs.” You had a feeling the cat might’ve gone there.

Recently you had been allowed up there more and more so you simply bypassed the guards. You realized however you wouldn’t be allowed to check the rooms. You asked around finding nothing, you took a deep breath before knocking at Arlecchino’s office.

“Come in.” You opened the door to see the cat in question lounging on her lap. “I assume the children are looking for he correct?” She said, gently petting the cat.

“Yes actually. Could I convince you to let them keep her?” You sat across from her. You could hear the kitty purring in her lap.

“Of course.”

“You see-oh. I didn’t expect you would agree so easily.”

“Well, a cat is a useful companion. I’ve seen how the children try to sneak in strays or have formed close bonds with them and I see no reason to deprive them of those bonds. We can’t take in every stray yes but I have no reason to prevent them from bringing a cat. Dogs are another issue, they cause messes and may be more difficult. But this cat is quite well behaved. In fact, she came in here herself.” Arlecchino “she may be good for mice control too. In the winter months is when mice tend to invade homes more. So her timing is perfect. Besides, she is such a beautiful tabby. Orange females are quite rare.” You relaxed seeing how she seemed quite fond of the kitty.

“That’s a relief, I’ll let Lyney know the cat is safe with you.”

“Actually could you take her with you? I have to leave in a bit and she won’t get up on her own accord.”

“Of course.” You approached her to scoop the kitty up as it meowed in confusion. Arlecchino’s eyes were on your chest that became slightly more exposed as you leaned down. “Thank you again Arlecchino, I’ll make sure that cat doesn’t trouble you.”

“Its no problem at all. So long as she makes you and the children happy.” Arlecchino smiles.

“Mother… why don’t you and father kiss?” That question had you shocked. You looked at the child in question as you tried to figure a way to explain it.

“Yeah mommies and daddies always kiss. That’s what my friend told me..”

“Maybe they kiss in private?”

“We don’t kiss no.. your father and I aren’t in a relationship like that.” You cleared your throat trying to regain composure. The children seemed a bit sad at that.

“Why not?” One kid asked.

“Because we just aren’t. Now go play with that cat.. or something.” You quickly took a step back to compose yourself. Watching the kids interact with each other as you fanned your face trying to calm down. But why did the thought or suggestion of that even make you feel this way? How come you felt so warm in the face? You sighed as you tried to clear your head of it.

Were you in love with her? Your boss? A literal harbinger? You knew people died by her hand.. but.. the way she holds little Lynette’s hand.. the way she her hands may suddenly find themselves on your shoulder slowly becoming more of a familiar sensation, her presence doesn’t actually frighten you as much as it used to. You’re more nervous if anything, that she’ll see through your eyes how you truly feel about her. The kids love you two, calling you mother and her father, she refers to you as the “mother of her children”! How could you not feel so tingly and feathery inside! She’s become so alluring too. You once found her scary and intimidating but now… oh you secretly crave her. She is such a menacing woman.. is it bad that you want her? Your employer?

You sighed as you were taking your break, getting lunch at a simple cafe with a nice coffee to clear your mind. You thought about your children with her, not by blood yes but by heart. They call you mother, they bring you gifts, your birthday is never forgotten anymore. You’ve truly come to see them as your own now. You have to remind yourself at times that you didn’t bare these children. That some heartless people let them sat on the streets without taking them home, you could never imagine so. Especially Lynette and Lyney, a most adorable duo. How could anyone ever hurt such innocent souls?

From what you know, the previous Father was far crueler than her. Freminet told you of how he scolded them for crying or weakness, how he lied about his mother’s death to him.. how Arlecchino had slain him and taken his place, how she had slain the man who tried to hurt Lynette… you felt a bit warm knowing the children had such a fearless protector now. And you too were apart of the family she established… maybe its not the worst thing to be in love with your employer, especially in these circumstances. But for the sake of your job and your work relationship you simply can never act on these feelings. You don’t want to ruin things between you and her..

“You called?” You opened the door to her office. You noted how Arlecchino’s blazer wasn’t on. Revealing her under shirt… her dark hands.. oh… should you really be looking?

“Yes I did, come in. I don’t bite.” She said. You approached her timidly. “I just wanted to reward you for such hard work. You’ve truly helped shape this place into a far more comfortable environment. I almost feel envious that it wasn’t like this when I was growing up.” She smiled at you. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncomfortably so.

“That means alot to me. I really just have a soft spot for children.. I adore them greatly and.. it hurt to see them be in such pain.” You said.

“Yes. But I wanted to invite you to dinner sometime.” She said. You froze.

“Dinner?” You said. She nodded.

“Yes, You’ve done so much for me that I feel as though I’m in your debt almost. You’ve gotten even the most disrespectful of children under control and you single handedly made this a home rather than a house for these children. I feel as though as the father I must reward you even more than I have.” She said, relishing in the slight red on your cheeks.

“I-i see.. but the children seem to think of us as… partners… I haven’t really been able to properly explain to them that we aren’t… you know.. dating..” you said.

“I don’t mind that assumption, that is if you’re fine with it.” She replied. You felt even more nervous. “Do you want to go to dinner with me? I’ll have a reservation for the most extravagant of restaurants. I’ll pay for the bill of course.”

Your mind raced, was this a confession?

“I’d love to.. if you’re fine wit-“

“I’m with it. I wouldn’t offer this if I wasn’t.” She assured. You felt such a rush of adrenaline.

“Th-thank you.. I- I.. I look forward to it.”

“If you want you could spent the night here.” Arlecchino offered. “I’ll let you stay in my room. I’m going to be spending most of my time in the office anyways”

“I.. if you’re okay with that then sure..” you said nervously. It was pouring outside as you debated how to get home at this hour. You followed her upstairs as you felt a bit nervous. This was a big step in your relationship afterall. Sleeping in her bed.. it feels so intimate.

“Here.” She opened the door to her bedroom. It was incredibly red, it was very intricate and detailed as you would expect a harbinger to have. The pillows more for decoration than comfort. You looked around as she watched you awe the room. “You can sleep on here whenever you like, as long as you aren’t working of course. But make yourself at home here.”

“I will thank you.” You said. She closed the door, her high heels clicked as she went to her office. You felt so timid. You looked in the closet out of curiosity, noticing there was two. They were both huge but one was empty. You realized she probably got the other for your clothes.. it made sense. You would eventually move in of course but it almost delighted you to know how thoughtful she was. She was already planning ahead.

That night you woke up to the door slamming. You jolted awake to see Arlecchino closed the door quickly as she undressed almost immediately. You felt quite flustered as she seemed to pay you no mind. She didn’t seem in the mood for conversation now so maybe you should keep quiet. You laid back, the moonlight was the only light as you noticed the unmistakable red stain coating the sleeves of her jacket. She then paused, turning to you.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” She said in a low voice.

“I- just… um..” I’m a little startled that’s all.” You said.

“You should get used to it. This home I’ve made is still nonetheless a fatui organization.” She said, she didn’t seem like she was in a good mood at all.

“I know… how often do you come home like this?” You ask.

“Ideally not so much. But realistically its not uncommon.” She answered. You nervously bit your lip as silence settled between us. Once cleaned and changed however she sighed. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” She walked over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“No no you’re right. I should just get used to this.” You said. She seemed pleased with that response.

“I have some things to finish up before bed, best not to wait for me now.” She said before leacinf without another word. You silently wondered if you had known what you were getting into by accepting her offer. But it was too late now. You weren’t going to ditch now. You’ll get through it, this time with her by your side.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Fate Inked In Starlight

Part Four

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Warnings - memory loss, you being kinda bad ass, blood, swearing, angst, allusions to death, tension

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five

Muscle memory.

Cassian had told you about it, he had told you how his muscles were able to remember every move and angle, every swipe and weight that he needed to put behind a punch when he had been out of training for too long. Muscles had memory, they were able to find their way back to where they needed to be.

It had been a week before Cassian had asked you to train with him, well, not so much as asked but told you. You didn't have much of a choice. You had agreed, you had pushed it back as much as possible, but Cassian was getting grumpy with you to the point he'd stopped bringing you your morning chocolate pastries. It was getting a little dire.

Cassian knew it was futile to try and send Nesta or Azriel to you, to convince you to start training, all you needed to do was smile at them and they'd crumble, forgetting completely about why exactly they had been sent to fetch you. It had bought you a few more days.

The next step was to deprive you of the damned chocolate croissants. You went nuts for them as much as Nyx did, and the Inner Circle would come downstairs often to find you and the little one curled up on the sofa eating those sweet pastries. Cassian was happy to report that the removal of those treats was enough to get you to agree to a training session the next morning.

It wasn't like you were happy about it, but hey, chocolate filled pastries made you happy, and you wanted more of them.

"Don't sulk," Azriel spoke to you from the plush surface of your bay window, giving you a sidelong glance when you appeared from the bathroom in the training leathers that Nesta had given to you, tugging at the cuffs and waist of the fabric to pull it into place.

"I'm not sulking," he looked to you pointedly as you picked up your leather holsters, frowning at them and holding them up to your waist, "Maybe a little," you shrugged, putting your hand through the large gap, struggling to figure out how exactly they worked, "I'm only doing this for Nyx."

"Sure you are," Azriel smirked, that devilish grin that always seemed to find his lips. His wings were neatly tucked behind him, elbows on his knees, face in his scarred palms. A spurt of water splashed his face and he blinked in surprise, noting your matching smirk and little curtsey, "Mature."

Cassian had a feeling that you were a warrior of some kind before you fell into Prythian and lost your memories, he was sure of it actually, from the curve of your muscles to the peeled callouses on your hands, even your eyes told a million stories. Ones he'd very much like to hear one day.

Azriel wiped the small droplets from his face and stood from his seat, crossing the room and holding his hand out at you. He towered over you, he consumed you in shadow so dark that the sunlight wasn't able to pierce through and hold you. Tendrils of hell-black shadow curled around your unbound hair, they curled over your shoulders and shuddered in adoration at your warmth, you'd gotten used to it quickly and almost sought out their innocent affection. "Give it to me," he motioned to the holster, not even bothering to reign his shadows back to him, he knew they wouldn't listen. It was a waste of time.

You hadn't told anyone how your nightmares had transformed into more vivid dreams, you no longer woke up screaming clutching at your raw throat, instead, your dreams awoke you to those same purple eyes that said nothing and simply watched you. You were sure if you told anyone they'd think you were beyond mad

Azriel dropped to his knees before you after you had handed the leather straps over to him, he lay them on the floor and tapped your leg softly, a sign for you to step into the holes. He grasped at the edges and began to pull them up your legs, his fingers brushing your sides and inner thighs before shimmying them over your hips, looking down on you with a shit-eating grin, "Was that so hard?" Azriel's eyes turned a shade darker, his breath drifted over your face and you shook your head softly as he fastened the buckle, "Mhm."

Heat rose to your cheeks and you looked away quickly, hoping that he didn't see, but of course, you knew he did. Azriel was spymaster of the Night Court for a reason.

"Come on," you strode for the door, throwing it open and allowing a whoosh of cold air to flood your bedroom, "Cassian probably thinks I've bailed again."

To Cassian's surprise, you had actually shown up.

The Lord of Bloodshed leaned against a stone block, his face dipped in a scowl, convinced that you were all talk. But then you had arrived, clad in Nesta's leathers, hair unbound which you were raking back with your fingers, tying it up messily on the back of your head, with Azriel striding after you.

He had decided not to make a comment about your tardiness, upon Nesta's request, his mate had taken quite a liking to you to the point of growling at him when he had made a joke about you.

Nesta had told you bits about training whilst you both read in one of the seating rooms at the House of Wind, where she and Cassian lived and you had visited often to pluck books from its library and find some comfort in them. She had told you that Cassian would most likely be tough on you, he was tough on everyone, but it was a good thing, he wanted to push people to be the best they could be.

You and Cassian had sparred for an hour, your muscles ached from blocking his punches and hitting the ground, hair had fallen from your poor excuse of a bun and dirt coated the side of your face from one particularly rough takedown, you were tired of it.

Azriel watched you closely from his perch, calling out corrections to you which you had tried to implement but it always ended in Cassian flooring you.

Ready to voice your readiness to return to the townhouse, a glint caught the corner of your eye, a shimmering sparkle that pulled your attention to the racks of weapons to your right. Without a word to Cassian, you dropped your arms to your sides and approached it, scouring the array of lethal weapons that lined the hooks until you found that one that had pulled you there.

Black rope was wound around one of the arms, holding two iridescent onyx hooked blades, sharp enough to inflict untold damage. Reaching for them, you grasped at the bundles of rope and held them in an open palm, turning slightly as your hand adjusted to the weight. It felt odd but it also felt right. So right.

The two Illyrians watched you with intrigue, they watched as you let the bundles of rope zip from your fingers, they watched the two blades sway at your sides, and they watched your free hand move to grip a free section level with your abdomen. Familiarity burned within you, and they saw it rear its wondering head to them.

They swung slowly at first, in lazy circles as you adjusted to the feelings, and then your movements increased until they were dizzying spheres whipping around your body by your perfectly arched hands. Your stance had changed, one foot planted in front of the other and they watched you in awe, the shéng biāo was a difficult weapon to master, to the point that even Cassian and Azriel steered away from it, but there you were, weaving it around your body with perfect control like it was nothing.

Then you had stopped, a large grin falling over your face and you looked to Cassian, holding the weapon in the palms of your hands, "Muscle memory, right?"

Azriel jumped down from his perch and clapped Cassian on the shoulder, the latter being too stunned to speak whilst Azriel approached you, "Who knew that the Little Flower is a shéng biāo master?" He teased, you wrapped the rope around the indent of your thumb to your elbow until it was neat and compact, placing it back on its ledge. "You just keep on surprising me."

"Is that a bad thing?" You asked, turning back to him with your arms folded over your chest.

"No," he smiled, "Not in the slightest."

It took Cassian a few moments to return to earth, too dumbfounded to waltz back into his body any sooner, he still couldn't form coherent words, simply muttering that Rhys would love the show you had just put on in wielding one of the most formidable weapons in the entire of Prythian.

Keir had insisted upon a meeting with the entirety of the Inner Circle, with all of the High Lords actually. It sounded more like a party, but anything to do with Keir felt like all work and no play, Rhys had told you.

Rhys had told you that Eris would be there, that he was constantly asking about you without ever actually asking you. Nesta said he wanted to give you space, that he thought that he was the problem, and you wished more than anything that he would know how wrong he was.

You missed Eris, and Duke. You missed the warm autumn sun pooling into your pores. You missed the hues of gold and orange that coated the midline of Autumn. You missed the roaring fires and Eris' arms wrapped around you as he shushed you back into slumber. You missed the sound of his heartbeat and that intoxicating scent of burnt orange, caramel and pine that washed all of your worries away. You missed him.

You had insisted that they all go, that even if it was more work than play, that they deserved a night away to let loose a little, you'd happily stay and care for Nyx. It was Amren that usually stayed behind in these situations, but you were adamant that they should all go, to have a night without Nyx as a family and leave you to take care of everything else.

They had all filed out of the townhouse door, dressed in the most spectacular outfits that you could only dream to own. Feyre had thanked you with a kiss to the cheek before excitedly rushing from the house, linking arms with Lucien and pulling him and Elain down the winding garden path with loud laughter emitting from her lips.

"If you need us just shout," his finger drifted to your temple, "Shout to me and we'll come back," he told you with a warm smile and fond eyes.

Rhys had been just as dumbfounded as Cassian when he heard of your talent with the shéng biāo, the rope dart as he called it, even Rhys found it too difficult to wield, always slicing open his calves whenever he had tried in the past. It was becoming more obvious that your story was a deep one, one with many layers that he was invested in uncovering.

After your conversation with Feyre, you had immersed yourself with life in Velaris, you had joined their family dinners and chimed into conversations with quirky anecdotes and other-worldly questions, you had joined Mor and Feyre on a shopping trip where they had insisted on buying you everything you had laid eyes on, citing that you were like a breath of fresh air to their family so deserved to be treated like one of them. Elain had taught you to bake and you had spent time in her garden, it reminded you of the gardens of Fir Manor, and you allowed your water to extend from your fingertips and into the earth, licking the roots and bringing them to life.

Rhys had taken you to the Sidra, Amren allowed you into her apartment, and Nesta sat and read with you nightly, and you often became lost in conversation with her about characters and plots with the occasional argument of who should end up with who.

The High Lord pulled his finger from your temple, the warm patch turning cold as he stalked from the house after his mate. Jumbled garble entered your ears, Azriel walked up to you dressed in his fighting leathers, bouncing Nyx in his arms, walking so slowly that it felt like he didn't want to leave, only handing over the babe once you had reached out for him.

"You take care of her, Nyx," he took Nyx's tiny hand between his fingers and shook it gently before looking up at you, "If you need anything-"

"I'll scream loud enough for the entire of Prythian to hear," you bounced Nyx on your hip, turning your head to place your nose in his hair and inhale that beautiful smell that made your stomach coil with blissful want. "Go. And try not to be so serious."

Azriel held his hands up as he backed out of the room and into the night, "I can't promise anything."

He kept his gaze on you, walking backward down the path and toward the loud billowing voices that awaited him. You looked incredible, the light of the entryway curving around your figure, you were dressed in a navy blue velvet dress with soft ballooned shoulders and gold thread tied into a neat bow at your lower back, the skirt fell to your ankles and you wore black pumps on your feet. It was like Velaris had taken root within you and blossomed in your soul.

It took a lot to make him turn from you, to stop imagining you stood there holding your own child, his child, in your arms.

Feyre sent him a knowing look which was followed by a soft squeeze of her hand on his forearm before they winnowed away, leaving you all alone with her most prized possession.

Your evening with Nyx had been nothing short of magical.

You had baked together, a certain type of cupcake that Elain had taught you to make, and a tiny flour covered hand print rested on your cheek. You had read to him, a tale of fearsome warriors, dragons, and love. You had eaten the chocolate croissants Cassian had returned with that afternoon, telling him that you knew that his uncle would give in eventually.

And then he had gotten tired, his little mouth contorting into heart clenching yawns. It was then that you gathered him into your arms and put him to bed, humming softly to him as he drifted off and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before slipping from the room with a click of the door.

You lingered in the hallway, gazing at the paintings that lined the walls, Feyre's paintings, that told stories of her emotions, swirls of colour and shading perfectly depicting her home and love for everything within it.

The journey back to the living area felt strange, like something was telling you to stop and turn back, to not go down there. Goosebumps sparked across your flesh and an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of your stomach. A shrill chill swarmed around you, gusts of draughty air blowing through the house, pushing you, pleading you to be anywhere else.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you saw why.

Facing you were two cloaked figures, huge, snarling things shrouded in the shadow of their hoods. They drowned you with their stature, large creatures that stank of blood and decaying flesh.

Gloved hands reached for the crystal hilted knives in their holsters and they brandished them to you, a clear threat, "We almost didn't believe the whispers of Tiamat falling into this cesspit of a world," a voice hissed, it was gargled, like he was choking on thick blood, and low enough to make you hunch inward.

"Is the babe asleep? We would hate for him to miss this," the other forked, a serpentine poison laced to the more feminine words. A male and female.

In instinct, you locked your hand around the wooden railing of the stairs, your chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, your eyes were wide with fear, you hands were clammy and body trembling, "You will not touch him," your words managed to fall from your lips, calm and stoic as you attempted to search the room for the nearest weapon; a sword that hung in a cabinet to the side of the fireplace.

"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to stop that, sweet Tiamat."

Silence.

A single beat of it.

Then they lunged for you.

Twirling on your heel, you managed to dodge the grip of the male to only be tackled over the edge of the armchair by the other, she sent you toppling to the floor, and you smashed your hip into the corner of the coffee table with brutal force. There was no time to focus on that.

You scrambled against the wood, pulling yourself along the floorboards whilst she dug her talons into your calves, ripping through the muscle and inhaling the scent of your blood deeply, purring at it.

With little effort, she pulled you backward, gripping the waist of your dress and tossing you into the glass cabinet like it was nothing. It smashed at the impact, shards of glass embedding into your back, and you fell to the floor with a thud, "What happened to you? I expected more of a fight," she kicked your leg, pulling groaning whimpers from your mouth, "It's alright," she cooed, tucking escaped strands of hair behind your ear before plunging her knife into abdomen, ignoring your screams and the blood seeping through the navy blue of your dress, "I'll tell them that you fought, I'll tell them that they were too late," she dug it in deeper, summoning guttural pants from your chest.

Blood. So much blood. So much liquid.

Liquid.

Gasping, you wrapped your hand around her wrist, driving her dagger deeper through you, feeling the beat of her pulse under her flesh. You dug your fingers into that spot, tapping into that power and allowing it to slow her blood down whilst spandrils of water flowed from your fingers and up her arms, across her face, and into her eyes and mouth.

The thing sputtered on top of you, understanding that whilst her blood was slowing to a stop, that she was always drowning in your grip. Then she fell to the side with blue lips and her alabaster skin peeked through the hood of her cloak, rippling with grey veins.

Nyx.

You cried out, using the edge of the table as a support to stand. The other one didn't move, he simply watched you, you could hear that rotten smirk through the darkness, and your hunched body tensed as he began to move to the stairs. Without thinking, you tore the blade from your abdomen, you ignored the searing pain that cut through your body, and you threw that knife at him with sterling precision. It embedded itself straight into the back of his head and he dropped to the floor with a thud.

Blood ran down your legs, footsteps of bright red signalled where you were going as you clutched your stomach and hauled yourself up the stairs after ripping the knife from your attackers stiff fingers.

You could have cried when you saw Nyx still asleep in his cot, sleeping so deeply that whatever had occurred downstairs didn't wake him.

A sob escaped you and you slid down the side of his cot, an arm wrapped around your abdomen, your hand clutching the crystal hilted blade which was pointed at the closed door.

Rhys had felt it. He had felt that something was gravely wrong.

Wild, wide eyes signalled to his family that they had to leave and fuck the consequences. Nesta had been talking to Eris when she felt Cassian's hand on the small of her back, his lips by her ear telling her that they all had to go. That something was wrong.

Eris refused to be left behind, he had spent every day thinking of you, and he knew that if Rhys was rattled then whatever they would return to Velaris to find could be monstrous. Rhys hadn't cared when Eris had followed them from the room, he hadn't cared when Lucien had grasped his upper arm and winnowed him into Velaris.

Rhys and Feyre stood frozen into place, it was Azriel that bolted to the slightly ajar front door of the townhouse with Cassian and Nesta in tow.

The room was flipped, furniture thrown across the space, broken glass covered in blood, and pools of that thick red liquid dotted about the space with bare footprints inked in it trailing toward and up the stairs.

Two bodies lay there in the darkness, one pale and blue lipped, the other with a large hunting knife shoved through the back of his head that protruded from his mouth. The rest of the inner circle entered the room, quietly surveying the place that was not lit with its usual fire that you had always refused to let go out, it was cold, it was tainted.

Azriel ran. He ran up the stairs, he followed those bloody footsteps. He prayed to the mother that they were yours and that you hadn't been taken. He prayed with everything in him that those steps didn't belong to another attacker, he prayed that they hadn't reached Nyx.

The Shadowsinger burst through the door of Nyx's bedroom, frantic and wild, and completely uncontrolled. He froze in his place in the doorway, he froze as his hazel gaze found you sat in a pool of your own blood, pale and shaking, a knife in your free hand, and a little handprint dusted onto your cheek.

Footsteps followed him and he felt the fire at his side, the male choked and rushed to you, sliding onto his knees through your blood and cupping your hazed face in his hands, "I didn't let them touch him," you rasped, "I'd never let anyone touch him."

Feyre and Rhys appeared next, exhaling with relief before finding you. You were barely keeping your eyes open, Azriel could feel how cold you were from his place in the door, "Little Flower," Eris called to you softly, and Azriel hated how it made him feel to see you turn your eyes to Eris and crumble, "You're okay, you did great. Nyx is fine."

Rhys moved to you as you weakly asked, "Nyx is fine?"

The High Lord took your limp hand in his, he slid the knife away from you, "Nyx is fine, Flora. He's okay. You protected him."

Nesta's eyes were wide, emotion flowed through her as her bottom lip wobbled at the sight of you, she wanted to reach for you, but instead she moved to Nyx and bundled the sleeping babe up in her arms, removing him from the room in case he awoke and saw it all, all of your blood that stained the carpet like the Sidra along the riverbank.

"Call for Madja, Mor," she nodded quickly and darted down the hallway, Rhys moved to scoop you up but you cried out in agonising pain and he flinched, retracting his hands from you.

Your body was covered in scratches, your flesh was ripped apart and shard of glass were embedded in your back, long tears sliced up your calves. It was incredible how you were still conscious.

"Little Flower," Eris called again but softer, he coaxed your attention and you reached for him, your bloody thumb staining his chin.

"You're here," you whispered with drowsy exhaustion, too weak to keep your fingers on him for a moment longer.

"Of course I'm here," he placed a kiss into your hair and ran his fingers across your face, allowing small licks of fire to warm your skin.

Then your gaze moved upward toward the open door, you looked at him and it broke him more, he moved to you and knelt to your level, "Az. It hurts," your voice broke.

"Let me move you, let me fix you," he felt Eris' eyes on him but he didn't care, not for one second, and when you nodded, he had never been so careful in holding anything in his life.

He held you in his arms, not caring for the glass that was breaking through his skin, he looked to Rhys with a darkness in his eyes that his High Lord had never seen before, he growled, "Find who did this before I wage war on every single court in Prythian."

Rhys had no words, he simply silently nodded and watched as his brother took care with each step he took from the room so that you didn't whimper in his arms, leaving his High Lord behind stood in a pool of your blood with the crystal hilt of the dagger dancing in the moonlight.

Authors Note

It's here!!

Pretty please let me know your thoughts! 🤍

Taglist

sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone 🥺

@acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck @isaxbella749 @aactuaaltraash @blackgirlmagicforever @imma-too-many-fandoms @b1ravenclaw @tsumsamu @donttellthecats @glaciuswduo @mybestfriendmademe @daardyrnitta @cleverzonkwombatsludge @sevikas-whore

[toournextadventure]

bad dream?

Summary: Tara wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Again. They always seem to come at the worst of times. But at least she can ask you to keep her company for the night.

Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: swearing, mentions of Ghostface and related trauma Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Tara woke with a start. Her eyes opened to the dark room illuminated only by the street lights outside her window. The image of Ghostface was engraved into her eyelids every time she blinked. If she focused on one spot for too long, she could almost see him standing in the corner of her room. Watching her. Waiting.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes quickly; if she took too long, He would be there again. It didn’t make much of a difference though, her palms were so sweaty she had to wipe them off on her bed. Not that it helped much, her bed was soaked too.

“Gross,” she mumbled to herself as she continued to sit in almost a literal pool of her own sweat.

Every time a car drove by outside, she flinched. It was from the headlights, or the sound, or even just the knowledge that someone had been outside her room even for a fleeting moment. All they would have to do is climb up the fire escape and that would be it, she would be done for.

Tara liked to pretend during the day that nothing bothered her. Sam was already so openly traumatised about it, she couldn’t add her own trauma to it. But she was scared, and it came out at night. When she was enveloped with the darkness and every sound could be Him, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With shaky hands, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and turned it on. The light from the screen blinded her, but only for a moment. 2:17am. Too fucking late to just stay up, too early to do anything about it. She sat there and chewed her lip, thinking about what her next move was.

There was no way she was going to wake Sam up. What, was she going to waltz in there in her pyjamas, stand at the foot of the bed and say “I had a bad dream?” No, she wasn’t a little kid. But she didn’t want to be alone, and that narrowed her options considerably.

Well…

She dialled your number and held her phone up to her ear. Each time it rang, she felt herself getting more and more anxious. What if you didn’t answer? God, what if something had happened to you? What if He was back and had gone after you to get to her and Sam?

“Hello?” You mumbled, sleep evident in your voice. She exhaled through her nose; you were safe.

“Did I wake you?” She asked.

“No,” you said, followed by some ruffling on your end. “I’m always awake at 2:30 in the morning.”

“It’s not 2:30 yet,” Tara said quickly. She got out of bed and started digging through her dresser drawers; she needed something clean to put on.

You were silent on the other end of the line, and for a moment Tara was convinced you had fallen back asleep. It was a habit of yours to fall asleep while on the phone, or during a movie, or occasionally while hanging out with her friends. You blamed it on studies, she blamed it on the massive crash after all the caffeine you drank during the day.

“Did you have a nightmare?” You finally asked, your voice far too gentle for her to appreciate.

“No,” she said quickly. “Just a bad dream.”

“That’s a nightmare.”

“Semantics,” Tara argued. She started pulling on a new pair of shorts as she waited for you to say something else.

“Would you like some company?”

She froze and stood in the middle of her room. Yes, she thought. She very much wanted some company, especially from you. There was something about you that made her feel safe; it was why she had agreed to go out with you in the first place. But she knew how often you sacrificed your own well-being for her. She couldn’t ask that of you again.

A creak in the apartment made her jump.

Actually, yes she could ask you to sacrifice your well-being again.

“I’ll leave the window open,” she said, quickly moving to do exactly as stated.

“Give me about ten minutes,” you said, and she heard more shuffling from your end of the line.

“Stay on the line with me?” She asked hesitantly.

“Sure thing, pretty girl,” you said. “Give me a sec, I’m switching you to my headphones.”

Tara looked down at the firescape outside her window. The light two floors down came on, and she could see a shadow reflecting off the metal railing. It moved, and she heard the matching shuffling and clamouring before you spoke again.

“Can you hear me?” You asked; you sounded a bit staticy, but otherwise clear.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod that you couldn’t see.

“Did you wanna talk about it?” You asked as you continued to shuffle around your room. The light from your room swayed as you moved inside.

“Just the usual,” she said absentmindedly, leaning against the windowpane and trying not to shiver from the cold fall air.

It was a lie; it wasn’t the usual nightmare. This one was about you. About Ghostface coming back and using you to strike a very particular note of fear into her. Using you as the bait in His twisted game, asking her questions she didn't know, and being forced to watch as He gutted you like a fish.

“You’re such a liar, Tara,” you huffed, but she could hear the little laugh.

“How would you even know?” She asked with her own huff.

“Cause I can see you.”

Tara jumped and dropped the phone to the floor, spinning on her heels to look at the window. You were crawling in, a duffel bag over your shoulder and holding something in your mouth. It almost looked like a movie case. Your headphones covered your ears and you smiled at her as best you could.

“You’re such a prick,” she grumbled, but quickly ran over to help you in.

“Take it,” you mumbled around the case, holding your head forward. She took the hint and grabbed it. “Thank you.”

“Do you make it a habit of creeping in people’s windows?” She asked as she grabbed you by the elbows to steady your stumbling into the room.

“Only when they invite me,” you said with a smile. You leaned forward and captured her lips in a quick kiss. “Hey, baby.”

“You didn’t actually have to come,” she mumbled against your lips.

“You asked me to,” you said, giving her another quick kiss. “I’m always happy to keep you company.”

While you moved to set the duffle bag on the bed, Tara went to close the window. She looked down to the alley below for a moment, checking to make sure no one was out there. It wouldn’t surprise her if He was watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Sam and Quinn were asleep, it would be easy for Him to-

“-Baby.”

She turned quickly to see you already stripping down the bed. You were moving with the speed of a military vet - all thanks to your mother - with none of the stress. But your eyes were on her, looking her up and down. It made her self-conscious. With a sigh she crossed her arms over her stomach, holding herself in a faux hug.

“Wanna tell me about the nightmare?” You asked in a soft voice. She hated when you were soft with her; it made her feel fragile.

“Aren’t those your bedsheets?” She completely overlooked your question, her eyes landing on the new sheets you were finishing tucking in.

“Freshly washed,” you said with a half smile. “I have to do laundry tomorrow anyway, I’ll throw your sheets in.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re whipped?” She asked, but nonetheless she crawled into the freshly made bed. It smelled like you.

“All the time,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “Feels better, don’t it?”

“They’re cheap sheets,” Tara shot back. You barked out a laugh that echoed through the room.

“Talk about ungrateful,” you said around a few more bouts of laughter.

The sheets were warming up when she slid down a little further, pulling the thick comforter up to her chin. She just watched you move around. It always amazed her how many things you could fit in your trusty duffle bag. Tonight, you brought out a folding lawn chair, your laptop, a textbook, some snacks, and…

“Is that a bat?” Tara asked when you plopped down into the chair, the weapon resting on your lap.

“Why yes it is,” you said proudly. “Wooden and ready to beat a few heads in.”

“You brought a bat to your girlfriend’s room?” She probed.

“Tara, I love you,” you said with a pointed look. “But you and your sister are danger magnets and I am not taking any chances.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it. It wasn’t like she could deny your accusation; you were right. She and Sam were always attracting some sort of danger, whether it was Ghostface or the crazy conspiracy theorists from Reddit. There was always something around the corner.

And you apparently were choosing to face it head on instead of running away like everyone else had.

“Get some sleep, baby,” you said softly when Tara remained silent. “I can see the window and the door.” There was a seriousness on your face even though your body seemed relaxed. “No one is getting in.”

“Can you stay in bed with me?” She asked.

“I can’t see the door and window from the bed,” you said not unkindly.

“Just until I fall asleep,” she tried again.

Not that she should have been concerned whether you would or wouldn’t get in bed with her. You didn’t even hesitate before placing the bat down on the ground and standing up, stretching for only a moment before crawling into bed behind her. Relief flooded her veins the instant your arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close.

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss the hand near her face.

“Of course, baby,” you said just as quietly. She felt your lips press against the back of her neck. “I’ll always come when you call.”

With a soft sigh, she cuddled further into you and finally felt her body relax. You were there with her, you were safe. No one was going to get in, He wasn’t going to come back. Someone she loved was with her, holding her tight and keeping her safe.

“Good night, Tara,” you whispered, and she felt you press another kiss to the top of her head.

She had never fallen asleep so fast.

[mowu-moment]

ranking food tokens by how much personally i want to eat them

- Throne of Eldraine -

i have reason to distrust this meat pie thing, not only because of its wails of anguish but it also seems to have burst a bit in the oven. still not honestly opposed, at least the dishes are clean. 5/10.

how does one unpeel a curly banana? why are there sliced-open fruits on what appears to be a stone in the woods? where is the light coming from? i'm going to be taken by the fae and it's not even gonna taste too good while i'm at it, these things look dirty. but idk i don't mind someone else taking the wheel of my life rn. 2/10.

again, concerns about the floor food, but at least it looks more like some deliverygirl got eaten by a wolf and dropped her basket than a trap. someone already took a bite, though, maybe i should leave it be. 4/10

i have been invited to the Goblin King's Feast and while i don't fully agree with his choices i will certainly partake. boar looks wonderful apart from the hair. 7/10

- Commander 2020 / Strixhaven Commander -

i'm pretty sure cattails are poisonous to humans (not to mention the actual poisons in there) so i unfortunately can't oblige gyome's swamp soup. that crusty bread looks pretty nice though. i'll pick this thing apart like high school cafeteria lunch. 3/10.

- Modern Horizons 2 -

i at least know who cooked this one, and i trust asmor a decent bit, but this is still food for demons, so maybe it's not too good for me. goddamn do i wanna know what it tastes like though. 4/10.

- Unfinity -

i'm considering these two together. as a filthy american, i am allured by these fat-filled foods, but as a lad with a tiny stomach, i doubt i could eat enough to feel good about not wasting it. astrotorium's about excess, goddamn. the only funfair burger i've had was the best thing i had eaten in months, but it also made me ill the rest of the day. i really do want some infinity fries though, those look like the golden mean between a steak fry and a curly fry. 6/10.

- March of the Machine Commander -

meanwhile this looks like a texture nightmare. like i respect it, i imagine it's filling and fulfilling, but i don't think i ever could eat more than a bite or two. bread looks a little worse than gyome's but only a little. 5/10.

- Lord of the Rings: Tales of Middle-Earth -

my white ass loves a charcuterie board. and i'm not going to be intimidated out of it by not eating enough, since it's all in snack-sized bits already. definitely gonna overindulge this sucker. i'm nervous about some of those spreads though. 9/10.

this looks like i'm in a dream, is it actively cooking? or still hot? i can't identify what's in that pan anyway. i'm leaving it alone out of respect. wouldn't mind a drink though. 2/10.

this is not food. for humans. 0/10.

- Wilds of Eldraine -

this is a king's feast i am properly intimidated by. i'm more into it than the Goblin King's, particularly that triple-layer blueberry pie or whatever that is, but i'm going to have to be as polite as possible lest i get a face full of flaming beer. 8/10

i'll probably be eaten before this can eat me, and it barely looks like food, but at least i go down with sugar in the mouth. 1/10.

ogh. that egg looks divine. the bread looks amazing, there's a full glass, i've got like beans or mermaid tears everywhere. we've even got seasonings back there. the best damn breakfast i'll ever have. 10/10.

i would still probably eat this over nothing. there's onion, at least. i will either be hexed or violently ill, but like i could at least get it down. and maybe the witchmother is testing my strength and she'll reward me after slurping an eyeball. a convenient lie to tell myself. 2/10.

- Doctor Who Commander -

y'know, four, i think i would like a copyrighted candy. they look sad and british, which is on point. but like it's not actively killing me like half of these. i think anyway. i don't know doctor who. 6/10.

what is this? i have no idea. custard? raw batter? giant dunkaroo? is he dipping fishsticks? it doesn't look like it's done cooking, like do we need to put it in a fryer again? i'd say it's inedible but it's not poison stew so i have to be nice. 4/10.

get AWAY from me. this is a PERSONAL vendetta. i would rather try to eat spiderwebs. plus he's already eaten half of it. -10/10.

- Fallout Commander -

i can't be too mean since this is literally apocalypse food. i think i prefer this over poison stew? like i recognize it at least, even if it's foul and moldy. man has to eat something. 3/10

i'm not convinced there's actual soda in here. is this just a perspective shot or is this a giant prop soda? i don't like cola anyway. again, worth it in an apocalypse i suppose. 4/10

this soda i trust even less. it glows? does this give me magic powers in the fallout world or does it just kill me slowly? i think it'll kill me slowly anyway. i need fluid to survive in apocalypseland but damn i hate for it to come to this. 2/10.

[walkawaytall]

I really wish there was more interest in how to handle ADHD other than just addressing the symptoms that affect the people around us.

Like, the best pharmaceutical treatment we have right now is stimulants, and I agree that being on stimulants 24 hours a day, 365 days a year is probably not good for your body. Hell, I’m on a less-than-ideal dose of my medication from a concentration perspective because the ideal dose had my resting heart rate sitting at a cool 115BPM. I know taking med holidays is important. I know all of this.

But because ADHD isn’t just an attention problem (or may not actually be an attention problem at all at its core), it sucks that the only time period medical professionals seem to be concerned about treating are the “important” times: the length of a school or workday. Forget the fact that ADHD affects executive function, forget the fact that people with ADHD often experience chronic and unending anxiety and/or depression as a result of the ADHD, forget that there are important times that have nothing to do with an 8-hour school or work day, forget the rejection sensitivity dysphoria, the sensory issues that make things like clothing, food, and group situations a nightmare to try to navigate, the household stuff that has to be taken care of outside of the 8-hour school or work day. It feels like none of that matters because it doesn’t affect a group of fifteen or more people.

On top of ADHD, I have been plagued with anxiety-related issues for the majority of my life. I likely have a form of OCD and I have a history with a restrictive eating disorder; both of those conditions are very closely associated with high levels of anxiety. I’ve been on anxiety medications before. I was first given an as-needed medication that took the edge off but also made everything feel a little fuzzy, like there was a pane of glass between me and the rest of the world; I was put on an SSRI that somehow made my OCD-related intrusive thoughts about 50x worse than usual and had me wondering at one point if I should be hospitalized; and I’m currently on buspirone, which is doing what it’s supposed to do without the side effects of the others thankfully. But nothing, and I mean nothing, has reduced my anxiety as much as my ADHD medication.

Two hours after my first stimulant dosage, I just suddenly didn’t feel on-edge any more. I estimate that being on ADHD medication has reduced my anxiety by about 70% (buspirone’s for the other 30%). I started taking it in the summer of 2020 and I remember, in 2021, when I saw my boss in person for the first time since lockdown, he remarked on how much more confident I seemed, how I was more likely to speak up in meetings, etc. And I was like…yeah, man, it’s a wonder what not feeling anxious every second of every day will do for someone.

ADHD affects so much more of my life than just attention and anxiety, too. I have sensory issues with mine, which is pretty common, and they make eating — an already sometimes-complicated task due to the ED history — difficult at times because, while I can eat foods that I don’t particularly like, if something is what I call “the bad texture”, I will gag no matter how hard I work to overcome it (believe me, I’ve tried). And my brain sometimes decides that foods that were previously fine are now “the bad texture” and they may or may not shift back to being okay eventually; I don’t know.

The sensory issues affect me socially. My therapist and I have recently come to the conclusion that I’m probably not actually an introvert, but if I’m around larger groups, that means noise and movement and probably being touched, and too much of that causes my brain to either freak out or shut down. I used to always say, “I love people, but when I’m done, I’m done.” And that was likely because the overstimulation was building and building in the background, and at a certain point, my brain would just be like, “We gotta get outta here.” I was Queen of Irish Goodbyes for a very long time because of this.

And the executive dysfunction affects…well..everything? Not just work, not just school (but also those because if my environment is chaotic, my brain feels chaotic, and it is difficult to maintain a non-chaotic environment if you keep getting stuck on order of operations when picking up a room).

I’m not saying that I want to be on longer-lasting stimulants or that I want to be on the higher dose that I know helps my concentration more, cardiovascular system by damned. What I’m saying is, I wish treatment research had been more holistic rather than just figuring out what would give teachers and managers an easier time despite what the person with ADHD might be dealing with as soon as their meds wear off.

Maybe current research is working on it; I don’t know. I just know that, the older I get, the more frustrated I am with my brain and the more apparent the deficiencies I used to be able to counteract with pre-chronic-illness energy and crushing perfectionism become, and I wish there was an answer to this that actually helped me most of the time rather than forcing me to pick which parts of my day/week is “important” and making sure I’m medicated for those parts.

[kana-de]

★ summary: wanderer x gn!reader. cuddling headcanons.

☆ cw: sfw. fluff. a LOT of fluff. 525 words.

☾ a/n: IT'S ACTUALLY A REQ BUT I LOST IT FROM MY INBOX BY DELETING THE ANSWER IM SO SORRY PLS 😭😭😭

wanderer is really vacillating in offering AND receiving cuddles/hugs whether in public or in a closed space where no one sees you.

he'll go like "get your hands off of me!" without any insults, because... it's you. he can't really insult you since you can take it to heart too often.

but then will let out the most dramatic sigh you'll ever hear and rest his chin on your shoulder, one of his arms lightly scratching the scalp on your head and the other hand taking its place around your waist.

if you'll try to call him "hat guy" while cuddling he'll push you off the bed/couch without any hesitation. just so you know.

wanderer quickly discovers that you sleep really bad when no one's here to cuddle you, tell you a "sweet dreams" or give you a goodnight kiss on the forehead, so he often takes advantage of that (in a good way). wanderer can often find you restless, scrupulously working on some papers, but as soon as he proceeds to wrap his arms around you from behind, you realise that you can't resist your sleepiness anymore (and his cuddles, too).

he WILL offer to dance a medley (absolutely spontaneously) just because you have a vinyl music player in your bedroom that is already dusty as hell. no, not because he wants to feel your stupid human warmth coating all his being while he loses himself in your deep eyes. no, of course not, how could you even think that, you lowly-

after several categorical refusals to your "let me brush your hair" he agrees, but says no to "i want to braid your hair". and even stoically ignores your pouting puppy eyes.

yet, wanderer ends up lying on top of you, hugging you while you slowly run your fingers through his indigo hair, feeling how soft, even if it's - most likely, since he's a puppet - artificial, it is. you listen to his slow, quiet, appreciating humming against your chest. he falls asleep then though, and you decide that it's in your best interests to nor wake him up for now, and let the poor boy rest, even if he often rants about "i'm not like these humans, i don't need sleep."

he knows about where to touch you while your cuddling session and where to not; knows a lot about your insecurities since you always end up being cuddled by him if he notices you overthinking.

when at night he wakes up from another nightmare, wanderer lets you hug him and kiss his wet from tears cheeks, wiping them with your thumbs. he willingly tightly hugs you - and when i say tightly i MEAN IT. he grabs and clings onto you like you're his life vest, pressing his face onto your chest. neither of you care about if your clothes will get soiled in snot and tears. his sobs seem to slowly die down when you hug him back, tracing slow, careful circles on his back.

hums some cradle song he heard from a random kid on grand bazaar while being the big spoon for you to help you fall asleep.

[whorergal]

SHE'S MINE (PART THREE)

summary: you and ethan form a plan but in order for it to work, you need to make it look believable…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore. follows the plot loosely. happy ending, i promise.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: here's the final part! i just wanted to say thank you for all the likes and reblogs!! it's honestly so sweet of everyone and it means a lot to me! i have a bunch of ideas for ethan so look out for more imagines and hopefully a masterlist for easier navigation (i'm still new to this lol) :-) i love u all so much

❗️: u can find part one here and part two here <3

——————————————————————————————

To say that you were surprised when finding out about Ethan and his relation to Richie Kirsch would be an understatement. He had been someone that you had hated and even vented to Ethan about when you two first met. It just seemed very ironic. Although Ethan did love his brother, he knew the things he did weren't right once he realized how much shit he put you through.

The late night calls because of your nightmares, the flashbacks you would get whenever someone touched you too roughly, having to avoid the scars on your body because it brought you back to Woodsboro; it opened his eyes.

You weren't entirely shocked to find out Quinn was the other Ghostface that attacked you. She always had some unsaid vendetta against you and you realized now it was just because of your history. What did shock you was to find out Detective Bailey was the mastermind behind it all—not only that, but he was also Ethan and Quinn's father.

He showed up the moment you and Ethan met your friends outside their apartment. Mindy had stolen you from Ethan, leaving him alone with Chad, who was asking him questions to confirm his whereabouts. Luckily, you made sure to practice what to say with him on the train ride there. It seemed your excuses sufficed because Chad nodded, apologizing for thinking the worst.

While on your trip to the run-down theater, Chad had taken Mindy, thanking you for lifting her mood (you three had always been close since you were kids). You walked in the back alongside Ethan, holding his hand to calm your nerves which ended up in you receiving a look from Bailey. You don't think he knew you noticed but ever since you found out about him, you had been unintentionally tense around him.

The memorabilia that had been collected scared the hell out of you. It increased your worries despite knowing everything would end up being okay.

Tara seemed to notice how your breathing began to increase and stepped closer to you. "Hey, you okay?"

You looked at her, faking a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just going to get some air."

The group all watched you leave. Chad was going to follow after you but Tara stopped him when they saw that Ethan had already been on your trail. She smirked at him.

"You owe me five bucks," Tara informed him.

"Shut up," Chad replied, shaking his head.

No one found you two suspicious. If anything, your sudden relationship seemed to throw them off your tracks.

Everyone left the theater, finding you two on the steps, you tiredly laying in his arms. Tara smiled at you two, gesturing for you to follow. When you got up, Mindy reclaimed you as her own again, pulling you away from Ethan as she needed your comfort. You talked with her the whole walk to fill her mind with distractions.

They all needed somewhere to recoup and to come up with a reliable plan. You offered your apartment, knowing theirs was most likely still a crime scene. Yours hadn't been messed up in the sense that there was no broken doors and bloody messes all over the floor. Mindy actually agreed, saying she wanted to sit in Anika's room alone for a little bit.

"Don't mind the mess," you joked once entering. Your books were scattered about the place. "And the…blood," you muttered when you saw some it trailing where you had dragged yourself across the kitchen.

None of them cared much, getting right into what to do next. You ended up leaving to your room because your stitches were hurting like hell and you didn't want to cause any alarm to them about it.

You sat there, alone for a few minutes until you heard a quiet knock on the door. Honestly, you were expecting Tara, or maybe Chad because he kept eyeing you frequently, but Ethan peeked his head inside and you sighed of relief. He gave you his awkward smile and entered slowly, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" he asked, walking over to take a seat on your bed beside you.

You nodded, holding back a wince at the movement he caused which made you flex your muscles. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Nothing I'm not used to."

"Your stitches," he realized aloud, leaning closer. "Shit, I forgot. Do they hurt?"

"Sort of," you responded, gripping your stomach as if it would make the pain go away.

"Is there anything I can do?" He looked at you softly, as if his eye contact could harm you.

You forced a smile. "Distract me, please."

"Well, I, uh," he stuttered. "I came up with a plan."

"A plan?" You questioned, confused.

"Yeah. I talked to my dad while at the theater and I found out the last steps he and Quinn will be taking," Ethan informed you which wasn't exactly the distraction you wanted but nevertheless, it was useful. "He doesn't know about you, or about us so I have him convinced that the reason I saved you was because I wanted to kill you myself."

You widened your eyes. "Oh."

"Obviously, I'm not going to—"

"I know, E."

He nodded before continuing. "Quinn's going to get Gale next. Then she'll be heading for us. I'm not too sure what she wants to do but I know it'll involve someone in the group in order to keep them all from going to the theater. My guess will be Mindy. When that happens, she'll go for you next so you have to stick with me."

"Go for me next?" you repeated for more clarification.

"I told my dad that I wanted you there for act three. Quinn will knock you out, take you to the theater, dress you up in a robe and frame you as a Ghostface." He paused, scanning your expressions. It wasn't a bad idea, actually, other than the fact that you'll be framed as a psychotic murderer.

"Okay, so I just have to pretend that I don't know?" you questioned, wanting to make sure.

"Yes, exactly," he answered. "They're under the impression that I'm going to kill you so they'll tell Sam and Tara you're the Ghostface to throw them off and when the reveals happen, you'll be given to me."

You nod slowly, taking a second to let all the information sink in before worrying aloud. "What if they don't? What if Quinn ends up hurting me again?"

"I won't let anything happen to you," he declared, grabbing your face in his hands. "She knows better now."

Your eyes softened as you nod again for the last time. Then you fell forward into his arms, just wanting to be held. He did as told, being careful with your injury, and just played with your hair which made you smile.

"You know, when I said distraction, that wasn't really what I meant," you mumbled into his chest.

He furrowed his brows. "What did you—" then he stopped himself when he realized. "Oh."

You laughed until it turned into a wince. He pulled you apart from him to make sure you were okay. You nodded silently, diving right back into his arms again. It gave you comfort.

You and Ethan stayed close to each other the entire time you were with the group. He didn't want you to be without him, afraid losing you for one second would mean he would lose you forever. His hand was interlocked with yours or settled on top of your thigh—whatever physical touch he could get from you. You even ended up falling asleep on his shoulder inside the van with Kirby, Chad and Mindy.

Then when you guys detected the call was coming from Gale's apartment, kudos to Quinn, that was where you all headed to next. It was where you learned that Gale had actually survived her fatal attack which you wanted to snicker at because Quinn failed again but you held it back to not look weird.

Sam had created a plan with Kirby and Bailey to head to the theater in order to lure Ghostface and lock him in. Apparently that was Bailey's idea which made sense seeing as he was one of the Ghostface's. So you all headed to the train station in order to get a lift to the rundown area.

Someone had ended up shoving you away from the group, elbowing you right in the stomach. You had to pause, grunting in pain until you looked up and couldn't find anyone. You forced yourself to suck up the pain and roughly shove everyone out of your way which helped you catch sight of Ethan's worried expression, searching the crowd presumably for you.

He found you almost immediately, adjusting his backpack and running straight to you.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when he got to you.

"It wasn't your fault," you reassured him.

You two finally reached the train right when it began to ride away from you. You groaned, knowing everyone had caught it together but then you saw Mindy ahead, doing the same thing as you.

"Mindy!" you hollered, causing her to turn and let out a sigh of relief to find out she wasn't alone.

"Thank god," she muttered. But then she saw Ethan and pulled you away from him protectively. "Get your Ghostface ass away from us, Ghostface."

Ethan gave her an offended look, watching as she created a safe distance from him. He kept looking at you two, making sure you were okay but Mindy would gesture for him to stop with arm movements. It caused him to roll his eyes.

When you entered the next train, you tried to convince Mindy to stick close to him in order to eliminate one of you from being attacked. She didn't listen but knew better than to force you to stay with her so she told you to "go to your boyfriend". You scoffed playfully at her childish behavior, finding her stubbornness amusing.

You had to squeeze through people to reach where he stood in the middle. When he saw you, his expression softened as he went forward to help you. Thankfully, there was a seat open right by where he stood so you sat there, mindlessly staring around as the train shook you.

The lights kept flickering and it gave you immense amount of anxiety. Ethan's eyes seemed to be fixed on Mindy, as if making sure she was okay as well. It must have meant Quinn was nearby seeing as she was targeting Mindy next.

Once the train finally came to a stop, Ethan turned to you and helped you up since your wounds were hurting more than usual. You instantly looked for Mindy but couldn't find her, sending you into a panic. You let go of Ethan, pushing people out of the way until you saw her lumped figure against the back of the train, a large stab wound in her gut.

Ethan and you both let out a jumble of curses while helping her up, leading her out of the train while calling for help.

You three were escorted to the nearest hospital where she went under immediate surgery and you even got yourself checked. Your stitches had reopened—which explained why they hurt so much—so they sewed them back together and even wrapped it up which made it feel a lot more secure.

The doctor released you, letting you return to where Mindy's room was. When you reached her floor, it was strangely quiet. Ethan had left you earlier, saying he needed to find Quinn, which you didn't pay much mind to as you assumed it was so he didn't look suspicious.

You scrolled through your phone, having not received any texts from Tara or the rest of the group that wasn't with you which made you nervous. They were probably busy setting up the theater but you couldn't help but assume the worst. In the midst of your distraction, you found yourself stepping into an unknown liquid which caused you to look from your phone to the floor.

It was blood.

Your mind immediately went to Mindy, but before you were able to worry about her, you were smacked across the head which sent you falling to the hard floor. Your vision started to become black when you swore you heard Ethan's voice.

"Ssh. It's okay, I got you."

- -

You awoke by the sound of excessive footsteps happening all around you. The bright lighting in the room caused your head to throb, making you squint your eyes until you felt well enough to open them all the way. You immediately recognized the room and knew you were inside the theater. You had no idea where Ethan was or what the hell was going on but you were positive that answer would come soon.

Slowly, you started to get up from your position, propping yourself up on your elbows. You looked around but your eyes couldn't help focusing on the black robe covering your entire body. Even though Ethan had informed you about this beforehand, you still felt yourself starting to panic.

What if he changed his mind? What if this was the plan all along; make you think he was on your side just to easily lure you into this trap. No, no, Ethan wouldn't do that.

"Look who's awake," the familiar voice that belonged to Detective Bailey spoke.

You searched around the room until his figure came into view, wearing an evil smirk. "What the hell is going on?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Actually you did. "You know the plan. You know why we're here; to stop Ghostface. It was pretty easy to convince Sam that Kirby was mentally unfit and had taken the mantle in her own hands for the best friend she lost…but she couldn't do it alone. That's where you come in."

"What are you talking about?" Your voice was groggy. Your mind was still fuzzy from the hit you received so his voice didn't really sound as close as it was to you. "Are you saying that Kirby's Ghostface?"

"Well, to Sam and Tara she'll be," he told you. Then he crouched to reach your level. "And you'll be to."

"What?"

"Kirby needed someone to do the dirty work for her while she couldn't." He shrugged, his voice becoming more and more angered as he continued talking. "Don't worry, you won't be the only one. My own accomplices will take the fall with you until the time is right. But we have to fuck with Sam somehow. We have to make her feel betrayal to throw us off her radar for the best reveal. Make her feel what she's made us feel for the past year."

"You're Ghostface?" you questioned. Your fogged up mind was really helping you play the part of confused.

He nodded. "And so are you."

You looked at him in disgust. "What the fuck?"

"It has to be this way, Y/N," he tutted in sarcastic sadness. It pissed you off. "You were the easiest pawn in this game. Your betrayal will weaken them the most. It's the perfect fucking idea!"

"Fuck you!" you yelled, kicking him straight in the face.

You were able to throw him back. Your uneasy state didn't help you much in your favor because as you lifted yourself up, your knees gave out. The mix of pain coming from your wounds plus your throbbing head made you nauseous that you didn't even completely register the feeling of Bailey gripping you by the hair until the cold touch of his gun was placed against your temple.

Unable to move in general, you froze.

"Unless you want your brains splattered across this wall, I'd suggest you follow my orders," he threatened. You winced at the rough shake he gave your head in order to emphasize his words. You immediately surrendered to which he noticed and nodded at. "Good."

He let go of your hair forcefully, it caused you to fall forward, catching yourself. You heard shuffling coming from behind you but when you turned to look, his back was the only thing you could make out. "What are you doing?"

"You need this to complete your costume," he responded, walking back over to you. He was enthusiastically holding a mask in the air. "This is Mickey Altieri's mask. I thought he would fit you well, you know, once I paint you to be this psycho who wanted to kill your friends for fun."

You glared at him. "They'll never believe you."

"Oh, I think they just might." He nodded, forcing the mask over your face which you tried to fight against. Then, there were gunshots heard which made you flinch and Bailey chuckle. "It's showtime."

He forced you on your feet by your robe, holding you tightly in his grip as he dragged you out of the room. You had no strength so he was basically holding your entire weight as you struggled to find balance. With your lack of stability, there wasn't much you could do and also because you felt his gun poking your back as if to keep you in your place.

"Get away from the girls!" Bailey announced his presence, pulling you along with him like a rag doll. "It's over, Kirby! I got you and your partner!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Kirby questioned in utter disbelief and you didn't blame her.

"Cut the bullshit!" Bailey hollered. "I saw this one helping you out to stage your attack!"

"What?!" Kirby's voice rose an octave.

"Who is this, Kirby? Huh?" he asked, referring to you as he shook you in his grip.

"I have no idea, okay?! It's not me!"

"Well, I'll just have to see for myself—" he was muttering to himself, using the hand that held his gun to rip the mask off your face. "Oh my god…"

"Y/N?" Sam looked at you in betrayal.

"What the fuck," Tara whispered, backing away from you.

"Stop! It's not me!" you yelled, squirming but he readjusted his grip. "It's not Kirby either! He's lying!"

"Y/N Y/L/N?" Bailey questioned. "How could you? Where the hell are the others?!"

"You're insane!" you yelled at him. You redirected your attention to them, finding it hard to breathe. "I'm not Ghostface! He is! He knocked me out and forced me into this costume! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Did you and Y/N kill Quinn?" Bailey asked in anger, his question targeted at Kirby. "Did you two kill my daughter?!" He shook you, looking at you when he finished his question.

"Jesus Christ!" Kirby let out.

"We didn't do anything!" you answered, feeling your voice beginning to give out. "You know that, you asshole!"

"Whatever he's been saying to you, don't listen to him! Y/N and I are innocent!" Kirby defended you both. "He's probably Ghostface."

"Why would he kill his own daughter?" Sam couldn't help but question, glancing back and forth between you and Kirby.

"Because he's a psycho!" you answered loudly.

"It doesn't make any sense—"

Kirby's voice overpowered Tara's concern as you saw her eyes go wide and gun straighten. "Behind you!"

You heard loud footsteps rushing toward you from behind but everything went silent the moment Bailey shot his gun, landing two bullets in Kirby's stomach. She fell to the ground, causing you to gasp. You let out another shriek when you felt a pair of strong arms grab you from behind, restricting you from movement as they dragged you along with them to stand beside Bailey.

It was Ethan.

"Great job," Bailey complimented. "Both of you."

"What the fuck?" Sam breathed out in confusion until she saw your frightened figure still being held. You saw guilt flash across her face for not trusting you.

"Let her go!" Tara screamed, heading for you but Sam had to hold her back.

It caused Bailey to chuckle. "Oh, you should've seen the look on your faces. To think your only friend would betray you but she's actually innocent; just ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Fuck you!" You let out.

Ethan covered your mouth with his gloved hand and you instinctively relaxed in his grip but forced yourself to fight him in order to make it look believable. You assumed he wanted to make sure your words wouldn't end up pissing Bailey off so he didn't do anything rash to you.

You were fading in and out of reality. You weren't paying attention until Bailey nudged Ethan to take off his mask.

He pulled it off with a smile on his face.

You looked up from where he had you, your mouth dropping into a fake gasp. "E-Ethan?"

"Hi, baby," he whispered in your ear. "Mindy was right. It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you guys was to room with a conceited, condescending asshole, literally named Chad. Fuck, it felt good to kill him!" His tone made you flinch; he sounded really insane. Then he rose his mask in the air. "This was your grandmother's Sam; Nancy Loomis. Really runs in the fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family…my names not Ethan Landry. Isn't it, dad?"

Tara looked lost. "Dad?"

"Had to keep it secret. I mean, I had to get close to you guys somehow," Ethan stated, leaning his cheek to be against yours. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek which would've made you blush in any other circumstance. "Had to have Y/N for myself."

"You're psychotic," you told him.

Catching him off guard, you managed to shove his arms away from you. Tara and Sam were prepared to pull you away but he gathered you rather easily as you didn't make it much of a battle to. You just needed to look like you weren't comfortable with being in this position.

What startled you was the feeling of his blade being placed against your throat. "Not so fast," he whispered.

You gulped. Now you were really afraid.

"Let her go, you asshole!" Tara shouted.

Ethan pulled the knife away and rose it at her which absentmindedly made her flinch. "Oh, come on. Y/N doesn't mind this. Don't you, baby?"

"Fuck you," you breathed out.

"So vulgar that mouth of yours." His attention was purely on you as his knife was placed back against your throat.

Tara watched in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Ethan was the one who came up with this plan," Bailey said proudly, squeezing his son's shoulder. "He knew how easy it would be to make Y/N fall for him. It kept him from looking suspicious because nobody suspects the caring boyfriend."

They both began to chuckle together. You rolled your eyes at them. It caused Ethan to dig the knife deeper into your skin, on the verge of slicing you.

"Wait," Sam interrupted them. "If it's you two, then that just leaves…"

While they all gawked in betrayal at Quinn's reveal, Ethan leaned his lips close to your hair to cover his words. "You okay?"

You glanced at him and you could see the apologetic look in his eyes for the position he had you in. You nodded very slightly before trying to squirm out of his grip again.

"Hey, roomies. You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Yeah, because you died!"

"Kind of didn't." Quinn tilted her head. "I had to get off the suspect list. Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy in the train, take Y/N because Ethan couldn't do it himself!"

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"It's funny, isn't it," Quinn continued. "Poor Y/N. She was just trying to help her friends which only led her straight into the trap. Come on, how fucking stupid can you be?!"

"Let her go," Sam stated sternly. "She has nothing to do with this!"

"She has everything to do with this!" Quinn yelled back, walking over to where Ethan still held you. She traced the tip of her knife along your stomach which caused you to shiver as she pressed into your stitches. "She's a killer, just like you, Sam. That's why it'll be easy to frame you both."

"What?" Tara questioned.

"Oh." Quinn jumped from her spot. "You didn't really think we'd take the blame for it. It'll all fall onto Sam, the villain of Woodsboro. She couldn't get enough so she just had to go on another killing spree and she couldn't do it all alone! She needed someone to help her."

"Y/N's not a killer," Sam stated matter-of-factly, watching in disbelief. "Neither am I. We're not killers."

"Oh, shut up!" Quinn snapped.

Bailey walked forward, pulling out a mask from his jacket and raising it for her to see. "You're a killer just like your father."

"No, I'm not!" Sam yelled.

"Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!"

Tara furrowed her brows. "You said your brother died in a car accident?"

"No, no, no, you sweet dumb thing," Ethan jumped into the conversation. "He died in Woodsboro at the hands of your bitch sister with the help of Y/N, here."

Sam's face fell in realization. "You're Richie's family."

"Now she's finally getting it." Ethan smirked.

He gripped your robe, tugging you carelessly to follow him as he and Quinn ventured around the seats in order to get behind Sam and Tara, significantly trapping them. It caused the two to tense and you as well. You weren't sure what was going to happen next.

"Y/N didn't kill him," Sam declared in annoyance. "I'm the one who slit his throat; I'm the one who watched him bleed to death as he cried like a fucking baby."

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn lashed out, walking forward to push Sam, catching her off guard.

"Hands off, Quinn!" Bailey demanded loudly which seemed to set his psychotic daughter in place. "Before we get into that, we have something else that needs to be done first." It seemed all their attention fell on you. "Ethan, why don't you go take care of Y/N. Plant her body just where we discussed."

"No!" Tara yelled, attempting to head toward you but was stopped by Quinn, who stepped in front of her with her knife.

Sam pushed Quinn, causing an uproar as they tried to fight her but Bailey put their actions to a pause by facing the gun to their faces. They both shuddered and stopped fighting, having to watch you be dragged away.

"Go, Ethan," Bailey instructed.

"No, no, no," you heard Tara cry out until he pushed you inside the room and the door was shut, silencing all sound.

"God," Ethan groaned, dropping the act, even dropping his knife in the process as he rushed towards you, grabbing your face in his hands as he checked for any injuries. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? They didn't touch you, right? I didn't mean anything I said; I promise. I hate this so much—"

"Ethan," you interrupted his rambling. "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine, I promise. I've been through worse."

Not wasting another second, he leaned down to pull you into a passionate kiss. Several emotions were coursing through you but once feeling his lips on yours, you felt yourself relax as if you two weren't on the verge of being potentially murdered by his fucked up family.

He couldn't pull away, afraid if he did, he would lose you so you had to be the one to do it—even if it hurt you to. "What's the next step?" you asked him.

"Faking your death," he told you casually. It almost made you want to laugh. "They're too indulged with Sam and Tara to pay attention to us. Besides, they can't hear much but I have to make this look quick."

You nodded, listening as he was about to get into what he wanted you to do next but the sound of footsteps caused you both to go rigid. When you looked past his shoulder, you felt relieved when you saw Kirby, miraculously still standing despite the amount of injuries she had endured, with her gun aimed at Ethan.

"Let her go," she instructed him.

"Kirby, wait," you interrupted, pushing him behind you so now her gun was facing you. "He's innocent."

"What? But I heard him. He killed Chad—"

"I didn't. I didn't hit any major arteries," Ethan defended himself.

"What are you talking about?" Kirby questioned.

"Ethan was Ghostface but he had to be in order to keep me safe so I offered to help him kill Bailey and Quinn for saving my life," you explained very vaguely, your words slurring together. "Please, you have to believe me. He would've done something to me by now if he wasn't."

Kirby took a second to process your words before she began to slowly drop her aim. "Okay. Okay, I believe you."

"Good," you thanked her, turning to Ethan. "What's next?"

"Down the hallway will lead you into the room where the back entrance is located. The plan for them is to make Sam understand what she's done before attempting to kill them both," he told you and Kirby, who had approached you two to watch your backs for any unwanted guests who would pop out. "Our backs will be facing you two and which gives you both the opportunity to get either of them because they won't see you coming."

"Okay." You nodded. "You got that, Kirby?"

"One step ahead of you," she responded.

"And this is for you." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large hunting knife. "For your protection."

You chuckled breathlessly, taking it from him as you looked up from the knife to him. "We got it from here," you assured him. "Go before they find you suspicious."

Ethan nodded, preparing to leave until he paused, leaning down to pull you back in for another kiss. You sighed into his lips, wanting nothing but to kiss him all day and not have to face the reality that lied outside the room.

"Wrap it up, lovebirds," Kirby said in impatience.

Ethan pulled away, his cheeks flushed red. "Be safe," he demanded more than said.

"You too," you told him, smiling.

He squeezed your hand, as if reassuring you, before he let you go and headed towards the door. He grabbed his knife, taking a second before finally leaving the room.

"Let's go, kid," Kirby demanded, already walking away which gave you no choice but to follow.

She took lead as she was the one with the gun, securing the place before gesturing for you to follow.

While stopped at a corner, her peeking past the wall to make sure it was clear, you couldn't help but question aloud to distract you from your thoughts. "How are you still alive?"

Kirby turned and gave you a look, as if saying 'right now really isn't the time'. You sucked in a breath and nodded, letting her go back to what she was doing.

When you both made it to the room Ethan was talking about, you found Chad propped up against a counter. He looked dazed, on the verge of passing out—or dying. You immediately ran to him, crouching to his level.

"Chad, hey? Can you hear me?" you asked stupidly, grabbing his face.

"…Y-Y/N?" His voice was quiet and weak.

"Yeah, it's me," you answered. "I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? It's almost over with."

"I'm trying," he hissed through his teeth.

"Y/N, when should we make our move?" Kirby asked, making you look to see her peering through the window.

You rubbed Chad's arm reassuringly before getting up to look through the other one right beside her. You could see a video of Richie when he was younger playing on the projector, causing you to scoff.

Kirby glanced at you and back at the scene. "That's the fucker who got you guys last year, isn't it?"

You nodded, feeling angry. All the pent up emotions you forced yourself to swallow over the past year were resurfacing. "Let's get them now."

She nodded, opening the door very quietly. You put your finger to your lips, gesturing for her to stay silent as you crawled forward to the memorabilia. Kirby whispered a bundle of words but you didn't listen as you discreetly reached up at one of the cases, opening it and stealing the knife that was being displayed.

You had no idea who it belonged to previously but you needed to get it just in case Tara or Sam needed one.

When you crawled back to Kirby, she had a surprised mixed with disbelief look on her face. "What the hell?"

"I had to get one for Sam and Tara," you responded.

"Just get behind me," she instructed, which you followed because she was someone you didn't want to piss off.

Kirby took a moment of contemplation, preparing herself before she leaped out, shooting perfectly at Bailey. She had two shots in his stomach but was stopped from continuing as Quinn tackled her to the floor.

You jumped out from your spot, stabbing her straight in the back and throwing her off Kirby.

"Y/N?" Tara questioned, running toward you.

You gasped in surprise when you felt her body being thrown on you, her arms wrapping around your waist. You had pry her arms off of you. "Here, give this to Sam," you said, handing her the knife. "Kill that motherfucker."

"I thought Ethan killed you," she said sadly, tears in her eyes.

Before you could respond, you fell forward into Tara's arms as Quinn stabbed you in the middle of your back. She pulled it out and was prepared to land another one until Ethan shoved her back to the ground, keeping her in place by shoving his knife straight into her chest. At this, Tara looked extremely confused, helping you gain your balance.

You glanced behind your shoulder to see what she was looking at and groaned as you straightened your posture to help yourself stand. "He's on our side," you let out before you pushed her toward Sam. "Just go help Sam—hurry! I'll take care of Quinn."

Tara nodded, making sure you were okay before running back to where Sam was struggling to keep Bailey down.

You turned to help Kirby up from the floor. She dusted herself off and grabbed her gun. "Thanks."

Then you two hovered over Quinn, who was gasping for air as Ethan twisted the knife, causing her to gasp. He pulled it out, blood flying to coat his face as she winced loudly.

Kirby rose her gun, aiming it at her forehead but you stopped her before she could pull the trigger. "Wait."

"What?" Kirby asked, confused.

You didn't answer, leaning down instead to hover above her face as she struggled to move, let alone speak. Blood was spewing out of her mouth as she tried to say something, probably an insult of some kind.

You straddled her waist, gripping her hair as you brought her face close to yours. "Ready to die just like your brother?"

Quinn's eyes widened but she wasn't able to do much as your knife sliced her throat, causing blood to run out. You stood up, returning back to your spot between Ethan and Kirby, watching as she took her last breath. Her eyes fell motionless, staring at the ceiling.

You turned your head to look at Ethan. "You okay?"

Ethan glanced at you, nodding. "Yeah. She was always a terrible sister, anyway."

His response made you smile. Kirby watched the two of you with a smile of her own. "You two did good."

"So did you," you complimented.

She ruffled your hair, earning a smile from you.

A gunshot caused you three to jump, turning around, prepared to attack but became aware that it was from Sam. Tara had the knife in her hand, covered in Bailey's blood as Sam was the cause of the bullet between his eyes.

When you approached them, Sam flinched at the sound of footsteps and rose the gun.

"Hey, it's just us!" Kirby hollered.

Sam nodded until she furrowed her brows, turning her aim at Ethan. He widened his eyes in fear, raising his hands.

"No, wait!" you shouted, jumping in front of him like you had done with Kirby previously. "He's with us."

"What?" Sam questioned.

"It's true," Kirby confirmed, taking a spot next to you in order to shield him as well. "He was the one who told us what to do in order to save you guys."

"But your dad and sister—"

"Are insane," Ethan finished her sentence. "I wanted nothing to do with this. The only reason I helped was because they threatened to kill Y/N," he explained to them, making you reach to hold his hand to comfort him. "I'm sorry for what I've caused and not being able to stop them before we got to this point. I'm really sorry."

"Sorry won't bring back the people we lost," Sam told him.

"I know." He nodded sadly.

"Sam." Tara brought her hand up to force her sister's arm down, making her lower her aim. "He helped us and he saved Y/N. He could've just let us die."

"We don't have time for this," Kirby groaned in annoyance, sticking her gun back into her holster. "You have to get to Chad. I'll call for help."

"Chad?" Tara questioned.

Kirby nodded, leading her into the room where he was situated. She left you, Sam and Ethan alone for any further conversation that needed to be made as she went to go help Tara and call the police.

Sam sighed, dropping the gun. "I can't forgive you, Ethan but I'm sure as time goes by, I can find a way to. You mean a lot to Y/N and she means a lot to me. So, if she's able to trust you and then I am too," she told him, giving a brief smile until she turned serious. "But if you do anything to hurt her, I won't hesitate to—"

"Got it," he interrupted, nodding sternly.

"Good," Sam responded. "I'm glad you two are safe."

"I'm glad you are too," you told her sadly, walking forward to give her hug. "Don't believe anything they said, Sam. You aren't like your father."

"I know, Y/N/N," she whispered, caressing your head.

You heard soft chatter coming from outside the theater room, catching your attention. "It must be the police."

"Let's go," Sam told you both.

You nodded, letting her walk first as you grabbed Ethan's hand in yours. Before you two continued, you paused, turning to face him with a sad expression. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Ethan smiled, genuinely smiled, looking down from where you held his hand back into your eyes. "I will be because I got you and I couldn't be more thankful."

You grinned. As long as I got you.

[promptful]

Oddly obscure Friends-to-Lovers prompts that I'll probably add to.

I'm uh, sorry? Requests are open, and please do not add to this list. I'm sure I have more somewhere in my brain, lol.

WARNINGS: Mention of drowning, mention of death, possible cursing. Alcohol.

SCENARIOS

1) We’re having a movie night, just like we’ve always done. Your thigh is touching mine, and my thoughts won’t stop wandering.

2) We both just got off work, and I’m walking you home just like any other night, you trip on an unfortunate pebble. Just before you hit the ground, I caught you with one arm around your waist.

3) Throughout our childhood, it was always you getting sick, never me. You nearly passed out next to me with fevers higher than imaginable, but I was fine. Now, I’m bedridden and you won’t stop freaking out.

4) This is your favorite song, and apparently there’s an option to sing a duet. Oh… you want me to sing? It’s a love song? We’ll be right next to each other? Oh. Okay. 

5) You’re drunk, bent over a bar with a grin splayed on your lips. You’re clinging to me, and won’t let me fish your keys out of your pocket/bag, guess we’re taking my car.

6) I step outside to find a thank you note for helping you/picking you up/getting groceries for you, stuck to a plate of baked pie/cookies/cake. Oh my god, how can I make you bake more? …Why are your cheeks red? 

7) My roommate/ex/family kicked me out into the rain. I have nobody else to call but you.  

8) Your roommate/ex/family kicked you out, and it’s pouring outside. In my pajamas/loungewear, yet I ran to my car to pick you up. 

9) This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, I tell you, but I don't have the heart to remove your fingers from my wrist. 

10) You’ve always been a stoic nightmare who never smiles, laughs, or does anything remotely animated. But one night, you actually laughed and I think I felt my heart skip a beat.

11) There’s one bed, and I know we’ve shared beds for years, but your arm is around my hips, my back is against your chest, and your breath keeps brushing my neck.

12) I’m trying to hold you, and I can feel every little thing about you. Why did I agree to sleeping here with you again? 

13) Ohmygod, I know I just said I love you, and I truly did mean it, but then your eyes flicker with something I’ve never seen, and maybe I don’t feel so bad anymore?

14) We’re arguing because of something stupid, and every single time I think it’s finally over, you scream, “But why do you care?!” And I respond with the only thing I can think of, “Because I love you!” @screnwriter lmao. 

15) Saying I love you after I just nearly drowned shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but I can’t seem to stop staring at your lips. Whoops?

16) We’ve been friends since childhood, and I’ve accepted that we’re just not meant to be. I’ve moved on and encouraged you to follow your dreams. I didn’t know that your dream was me. 

17) You and I’ve been friends since we were kids, and suddenly when I’m about to leave for vacation/college/moving, you let out that you can’t let me go without saying I love you.

18) All week, you’ve been on my mind, and I can’t make you go away. Finally, after suffering in silence for so long at the thought of your lips, your laugh, and your smile, I give in and ask you to come to my apartment.

19) What the hell are we doing in this closet? Why did you drag me in here? Why are you so close? Why do I want you to be closer? 

20) “This is bad,” I whisper, with my hands wrapped around your hips, because I know that if you give in, I’m wrapped around your finger. “Maybe,” you whisper, leaning closer, “maybe this is a good kind of bad, hm?” and pull me into a kiss. 

21) You need help tying the back of your dress/fixing your cufflinks, and my fingers keep scraping against your skin. How are you so warm? And how are you acting like I’m not right behind/in front of you? 

22) We’re ice skating, just like we used to when we were kids, but then you slip. I break your fall by offering myself up for tribute, and suddenly, we’re a whole lot closer.

23) You offer to make me tea when I’m sick, and for some reason, I have the urge to kiss you. Deliriously, I ask if I can. We came to an agreement that I can kiss you after I stop sneezing. 

24) I know you love rollercoasters, but I get so sick while riding them, and I’m not sure if I can stomach another one–oh, you’re holding my hand?

25) Every Sunday morning before work/church/school/a hobby, you come in for coffee. We chat a little bit each time, and I feel like we’re some sort of friends now. Today, I finally gained the courage to write my number on your cup. 

26) Family vacations are a whole lot more awkward when you and I can’t stop staring at each other, and you know that they’re going to catch on if we don’t stop, right? But we don’t, and instead, it just gets worse. 

27) You’re in a swimsuit. I don't know what to do but stand here and look awkward, because that’s more skin than I thought I’d ever see on you.

28) We’re roommates, and I walk in on you changing. You yelp. I yelp. I never forget what I saw, I’m sure you never forget what I walked in on. I think it’s time we have a chat about this. 

29) Did you know that if you love someone enough, your heart can palpitate? I didn’t, well, not until you walked into the room.

30) It’s your birthday and everyone forgot. Everyone except me. We sit down at a nearby park/in your apartment/on the roof/in a tree, and I finally give you my present.

31) You just got rejected from a date/prom night, and I promise you, your crush is missing out on you. I don’t know how to convince you other than sit here, hold you, and pretend that I don’t wish you’d see what’s in front of you.

32) I never wanted to ruin what we had, but you’re making it so hard not to utter those three words.  

33) I know you’re angry that I got hurt, but you’re patching up a cut on my face/chest, and you’re really close.

34) I invited you over after a rough night, the stench of cheap beer on both of our breaths. For some reason I can’t get my mind off of the way you laugh, or how you threw everything aside to come comfort me.

35) I’m trying to work up the courage to tell you how I feel, but everyone and everything seems to be against us doing this. Your friends, my friends, a random phone call from a telemarketer that I nearly cussed out. Okay, look, I love you.

36) Work has me exhausted, and I don’t want to think anymore, and I just can’t hold back from mumbling I love you into your hair. Uh, sorry.

37) We always snuggle, and this shouldn’t be any different, but I’m trying not to press my lips to yours because they’re right there and I don’t want to pass up another chance, but you take initiative and do it yourself. Oh. 

38) Your SO doesn’t treat you right, and you know it, and I know it, and everyone else knows it. But I don’t know how to convince you without giving myself away. And of course when I try, it fails. Crap. 

[tommysversion]

hello!! i saw you were taking requests and i couldn’t find any set rule list, so please ignore this if it’s not something you’re comfortable with ❤️ but what maybe some smut where they’ve been in jackson for a bit and the girls there don’t get the hint that he’s taken and reader gets jealous and is the dominant one? also totally marks him so they know. (sorry i don’t usually request smut so im not really sure if i should add more or not but i really like your work so i wanted to try) anyway, thank you if you get to this and again, truly no issue if you don’t. i hope you have a fantastic day/evening 🥰❤️

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, I had the big writers block for the last few days! I hope this is what you’re looking for!

You don’t get irritated easily. It’s one of the things Joel likes about you, actually. You tend to be the level headed one, the one people go to in a crisis because you’re damn near impossible to piss off. Damn near, but not quite. And lately, people have been pushing your damn buttons. Everyone has a weakness, and yours is Joel. 

You know he’s handsome. Hell, you’re not the only one who knows it. If he wasn’t so caught up in… well, being Joel, he’d probably be able to have any of the women in Jackson that he wanted. Somehow, he wanted you. Long before you even arrived there, too. Your relationship is concrete. Infallible. Only, there are a few women who don’t seem to have gotten the hint. 

They flirt with him, right in front of you sometimes. He doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t seem to care, and whenever you bring it up? He’s dismissive of it. 

“I don’t care who’s lookin’ at me, darlin’, I’ve only got eyes for you.” 

Sweet words, yes. And it’s not that you don’t trust him. You do. With your life, with your heart and your soul. 

It still gets to you. Especially when he gets so pissy whenever anyone so much as looks at you. Oh, sure, you like it, and you love the possessive way he fucks you whenever it happens… but it’s given you an idea. Everyone knows now not to flirt with you or touch you, because you’re always, without fail, covered in love bites or have Joel with you, his hand on the small of your back in a not so subtle possessive way. 

It’s your turn. Time to flip the cards, as it were. 

——

Sunlight streams in through the window; it’s snowed overnight again, of course, but it looks to be a beautiful day. 

You’re awake first, for once; you’ve noticed that he sleeps better beside you. Oh, he still has his nightmares, and you’re certain he always will, but you’ve noticed a definite improvement. 

Your idea still bounces around your mind, a way to keep those pesky women away from him for good. Maybe if they know, without any reason to doubt, that he’s yours… they’ll back off. If he was anyone else, you might be nervous. But he’s not anyone else, he’s Joel. Your Joel. 

The thought gives you courage as you curl your body into his, press slow kisses up his chest. That’s new, too. Since settling in Jackson, you’re both far more at ease with sleeping in very little clothing, or, in this instance, naked. 

Your fingertips trail along his arms as you kiss over his heart, keep kissing up to his throat, along his jaw. 

“Hmm? Mornin’, darlin…” His voice is always so much more heavily accented first thing in the morning, sleepy and content. You like that, the change from being instantly alert to allowing himself a moment. 

“Hi there.” You keep on kissing, along his jaw to his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“Didn’t get enough last night, huh?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, not at all. For all he comments about being fifty six and not able to keep up with such a pretty young thing, he does a damn good job. Honestly, his stamina is fucking impressive. That, and you can feel him, hard against your stomach. Time to put your idea into practice. 

“Never.” You agree, before you roll, catching him off guard enough that you can straddle him, keeping him flat on his back on the soft bed. 

He raises an eyebrow, amused at your sudden movement. He’s used to you being the submissive one, begging him to be rougher, harder, being pinned beneath him or on all fours, occasionally against a wall or on the couch if you can’t make it to the bed. It happens. Even when you ride him, he has the control, and you both know it. 

He’s not used to this, to you straddling him with a sense of purpose, a glint in your eyes as you lean down and kiss him again, a searing kiss to his mouth that’s all passion, all desperation, like he’s the purest drug left in the world and you’re addicted. 

Without breaking the kiss, you grind down against him, letting his hands drift to your waist, guiding you. Slowly, you brush your bare folds along the length of him, enjoying the way he watches you, pupils blown wide. 

You can’t let yourself be distracted, no matter how much you want to be. 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with arousal as you kiss the corner of his mouth again, circling your hips, teasing the tip of his cock with your wetness. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You reply, kissing his throat, finding a nice spot to leave your mark. Before he can answer you again, your kiss turns to a bite, sucking a deep purple mark into his throat as his hands shift lower, settling on your ass. 

You can feel his cock throbbing against you; it’s almost embarrassing how much you want him, how easy it would be to simply cave, beg him to roll you over and pin you to the bed. But this isn’t about you, not right now. This is about Joel, and about making sure those damn annoying women in town know that he’s yours. He’s yours. 

“Gonna tease me all morning, baby?” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t mind, not in the slightest, even if the haze of sleep has been replaced with lust. 

“Maybe.” You concede, leaving another mark on his collarbone. “I can see why you do this to me, now…” 

It certainly looks nice, the contrast of the purple marks against his olive skin. 

“Usually I fuck you, too.” Joel comments, and you laugh. 

“Is that your way of begging?” You ask, admiring the string of marks on his throat. Not bad, honestly. Not bad at all. 

“Sweetheart, if I was begging you, you’d know it.” He tries to sound stubborn, but you choose that moment to tease him again, brushing yourself against the tip of him once more. There’s a slight catch to his voice as he says it. 

“Are you sure?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Really, what’s gotten into you?” 

You smirk, lean down and press a kiss to his lips. 

“Maybe I just wanted to prove a point.” Your own resolve is failing slightly, just enough to cut your teasing short; maybe if you had slightly more control, you’d tease him for longer. But you know him, know his patience is limited, even for you. 

“And what might that be?” His hands are still on your waist; you move your own hands to his arms, keeping his movement limited; he’s not taking control, not this time. 

You don’t answer him for a moment, shift yourself, guide yourself to him, sink down onto him slowly. 

“That you’re mine,” you say finally, as every inch of him fills you; it takes a fair bit of effort to sound so in control, considering. He’s not exactly small, not so big he hurts you either, just right, perfectly filling you, the tip of him stroking against your sweet spot. 

“That so?” If Joel had his arms free, he’d be torn between crossing them behind his head, lazing back and just letting you have control, or seizing your waist and flipping you over, taking back control. He’s used to being the dominant one, but this? He could get used to this. There’s something appealing about the way you’re acting. 

“Yes.” You don’t dignify him with a drawn out answer; there are much better ways to punctuate what you’re saying, like circling your hips slowly, letting him feel you tighten around him. There’s an advantage to this position; you can use his arms to brace yourself as you start to ride him, slow at first. 

You can’t help the surge of confidence that comes with having him in this position. You know what sort of man he is, know exactly what he’s capable of. The fact that he’s willingly submitting to you, even if it’s just for curiosity sake… it definitely makes you feel good about yourself, encourages you to keep going. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, this all you got?” There’s an amused glint in his eyes; he knows you’re holding back on him, knows there’s strength in you that you keep hidden away. He’s seen glimmers of it, like when you marked him, but honestly, he wants to see how far you’ll go before you break. 

“Shut up, Joel.” You roll your eyes, lean down to kiss him. He meets you halfway; props himself up so you can change positions, so you’re more sitting in his lap than anything. You have to admit, you like the intimacy of it, the way his chest is pressed against yours. His arms encircle you, but he doesn’t try to take control of the situation, content with letting you ride him, setting the pace, trailing kisses along his chest. 

Even like this, you still have the control, are still the one calling the shots. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself, riding him faster, finally allowing little sounds of pleasure to fall from your lips when he moans. 

“I dunno where this came from, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your ear, “but I kinda like it.” 

You laugh, curl your hands into his hair, your laughter fading into moans and mewls as he starts to buck his hips up to meet you as you ride him, getting deeper, bringing you into a perfect rhythm. 

You need something to do with your mouth to quiet you; you suck another mark into his throat to occupy yourself, satisfied when he groans. 

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re getting good at that…” Joel’s hands caress your waist, up your back, as though he’s trying to memorise every inch of your skin. He could spend all day touching you, and it wouldn’t be enough. 

“Learned from the best,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as you pick up your pace. He meets you each time, rocking his hips up to match your pace, for once keeping his filthy mouth to himself in place of a string of moans and growls. 

“You’re mine.” You remind him as you kiss him once more, as close to your release as he is to his own. 

“And you’re mine,” he confirms, hands settling on your waist, holding you in place as he bucks up into you, drawing your climax out of you, satisfied by the loud gasps and moans that fall from your lips. He doesn’t get long to be smug, though; your tightening around him is enough to bring him to his own release; you bear down on him, keeping him inside you, taking every drop that he has to give you. 

He shakes his head, half amused, as soon as he can catch his breath. 

“If anything comes of that… that’s on you.” He warns you. Not that he’d ever abandon you. Never. 

“Oops.” You wriggle on him, getting him deeper, proving your point. 

He drops a light kiss to your lips. 

“You should show this side more often,” Joel says, and then smirks, “you’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

You scoff, admire the string of bites and marks along his chest, collarbones, and throat. 

“Somehow, I think they’ll get the message.” 

[dyns33]

A Silly Dream

Another idiots in love with Morpheus and female reader.

"… What did you just say ?"

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dream of the Endless wasn't human, and therefore didn't think like a human. He had great difficulty communicating and understanding that there were things he shouldn't say or do if he didn't want to hurt people.

The problem was that even when she remembered that, she also remembered that he was an old being, so normally experienced and wise, the prince of stories and words, who yet kept behaving like a selfish, spoiled child who never learned from his mistakes.

"I just said I couldn't stay long for our meeting."

"No, after that. And, what 'meeting' ? We didn't have an meeting, it was you who came to my place."

"As with Hob Gabling every hundred years, I meet with you once a year, for you to give me your impression of the new dreams and nightmares, and in exchange I let you read an unfinished book from my library. But I am very busy and it will be difficult for me to stay more than an hour today."

He was really telling her that for all this time, more than a hundred years, their relationship was not at all friendly, but hardly professional, a simple obligation, which annoyed him but that he had the kindness to fill in each time ? Oh, Y/N felt really honored at that moment.

"… You're a jerk."

"I beg your pardon ?" wondered Morpheus, visibly very offended.

"I said you're a jerk. It's because of the kiss, right ? It's your way of telling me that I shouldn't have, and that I'm very lucky that you keep coming to see me instead of punishing me ?"

"You know I have to come see you."

"You're a real jerk. Go away, since you're so busy."

His face still impassive, Morpheus stared at her for a long time, as if he still didn't know what he should do, before standing up without saying anything and leaving.

The kiss had been stupid, Y/N agreed to admit it.

It had happened two years ago now, when she had just finished her review of the last nightmare he had created, and Dream was trying to explain to her why she was wrong in her reasoning.

It could have happened much sooner, because her heart had been beating for him and only for him for decades already, but before that day, she had always known how to keep her feelings buried deep inside her.

But this time, without her being able to explain why, while she admired his eyes deep as the ocean, his skin pale as the moon, listening to his lulling voice, Y/N had not thought, and she had kissed him.

Dream of the endless went silent. He had looked at her as if she had just stabbed him, and of course he had left without listening to her excuses, not finishing his sentence, but leaving her a book, because he had only one word.

She had strange dreams after that, where she was in a labyrinth, then in a castle, then in corridors, and always she had the feeling that she was looking for something without really knowing what.

Sometimes she saw Dream, sometimes a cat, and she began to follow him, never being able to catch up with him.

The following year he came back, they didn't talk about what happened, and everything seemed to be back to normal.

It hurt to think that all of this was actually just an obligation for him. Y/N had met Hob several times. She knew that Morpheus was really bad with people, since it had taken him more than half a millennium to admit he had a friend, but she had also heard of his lovers, and so she knew that he was not incapable of feelings.

There had been the secret hope then that he liked her, at least a little. It was over now.

The next year, when he showed up on her doorstep with a book, Y/N wondered if he was more mean than stupid, or the other way around.

"I thought I told you to leave. I know you're terribly busy."

"The competition is indeed quite exhausting, but everyone else has given up for the day."

"Oh, you have a moment for me in your schedule ? Too kind. No, wait, we have a meeting, I forgot. Well, I'm busy. Goodbye."

"You do not want…"

"Bye." she repeated, closing the door in his face without taking the book.

It was the first time she hadn't taken the book. If he wanted to, Dream could have appeared in her apartment, or in her dreams, to scold her and throw the book at her, but he didn't.

Y/N didn't know if she was happy or disappointed.

Meanwhile, the bizarre dreams continued.

This time, she was in the gardens of his castle, in the Dreaming. She knew it, because she had already been there. It was because of this stuff that she felt she was more than an obligation.

There were a lot of people in the gardens, some looking human, some not, and they were all looking for something.

Tired, Y/N decided that this time she didn't feel like running, and she sat down on a bench. A wing sound told her that a little spy had decided to join her.

"They all look ridiculous, don't you think ?"

"I don't know who they are or what they do, but I guess."

"They participate in the competition, of course." Matthew said with a desperate tone. "It's been so long now, what's it been, four years ? Five ? I don't know. Some like you have a point, others are starting to despair a bit. I wish they all despair and stop. The boss is tired."

"… What do you mean by 'I have a point' ?"

"The rules are simple, one kiss, one point. Two kisses, two points. Three kisses, the hand of the Master of dreams. None of them asked for his consent, wicked ones. Neither do you, I'm a bit disappointed, young lady. You're the least bad, but still. He was hurt, that was not good manners."

"Matthew… Matthew, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

The raven looked at her like she was stupid. Then he realized she must be really stupid.

"No… That can't be true ! You two are really the same. Two idiots, you deserve each other ! Idiots ! He was hurt, but happy ! He was waiting for the other kisses during your little dates in the Waking !"

"You're talking about our more or less professional and obligatory meetings that he doesn't have time to go to ?"

"What ? What do you mean by… He said something stupid, right ? Of course he said something stupid. You do stupid things, he says stupid things, when you could just kiss. God damn it ! He was grumpy last year, and sad this year, because he thinks you don't want to compete anymore. But you don't know there's a competition ! And you don't want to see him anymore, not because you don't like him, but because you think he doesn't like you ! Boss ! Boss, you really kill me sometimes !"

Y/N woke up not sure if she had dreamed or not. Of course, she had dreamed, and all dreams were real, but she didn't know if she had talked to Matthew, or if she had dreamed that she was talking to Matthew, which was not the same thing.

In one case, she could continue to hope stupidly. In the other, she was just plain stupid.

She got her answer when she came home from work one evening and found Morpheus on her couch. He looked smaller and more fragile than usual. Tired, as his raven said.

"I thought we already had our meeting this year." she said taking out her jacket, not knowing what she should do, or what he was going to do.

"We didn't. You were busy."

"Ah, yes. That's right. Tea ?"

"No, thank you."

Usually things were very simple. They greeted each other, talked quickly about the past year, then Y/N talked about her dreams and nightmares, saying why she liked them or not.

This time, they said nothing, sitting next to each other. Of course, he had brought a book, placed between them. She didn't know if she should talk about those weird dreams.

It was a new surprise when he spoke first.

"You're near my sister's realm lately."

"Which one ?"

"Despair."

"Oh. How is she ?"

"What do you think ?"

"I don't know, you are not really dreamy yourself. I mean, you are, just when you are not talking. The talking you is a real nightmare. But I meant, how is she, as in is she alright ?"

"I must say that I don't know."

"You should call her to ask, she's your sister. Except if she's a bad sister. I guess it's not my business. How are you ?"

"You never kissed me again. Why ?"

He was back, the child with his big deep eyes, his innocent look and his dangerous words. How could he say such important things without the slightest hesitation ?

Y/N found the courage to meet his gaze after taking a deep breath.

"I don't know. Maybe because you have to come see me, and you clearly didn't like the first time I kissed you."

"I appreciated that. I would have fully appreciated it under other circumstances, but at that moment I thought you were acting like the others, in order to win the competition."

Matthew wasn't wrong, they were both a bit stupid, and mostly unlucky. All of this was mainly a problem of bad timing, and communication. If Y/N had acted sooner, and if Morpheus had known how to talk, there would never have been any problems.

"Following your entry into the competition, I am obliged to join you, in order to give you a chance to steal two more kisses from me, under the same conditions as the first. All the others who succeeded having it done in the Dreaming, I do not have to meet them elsewhere."

"… So you've been obliged for two years. But before too, since you impose one meeting per year."

"I told you, I'm very busy. I wanted to make sure I can see you at least once, as much as possible, so it seemed safer to set a specific date."

Damn, he was a jerk. A lovely jerk, a sweet idiot, a pleasant fool.

"And so… You want to kiss me ?"

"I'm not allowed to give kisses, you have to take them. It's the rule."

"I don't like that rule. I didn't kiss you for that, I should have asked your permission, and I'm not going to do it again, that's wrong."

"So you don't want to kiss me." he whispered, looking disappointed.

"I don't wish to force you. I won't steal another kiss."

"You could ask me."

"And would that change anything ?"

"I can't give kisses, but I can give you permission."

During their little conversation, Matthew had been very clear, clear as he always was and much more than his boss who gave him a headache. Silently, for three years, Morpheus had been patiently waiting for Y/N to kiss him again, silently giving her his consent.

He had been too proud or too stupid to understand that he had to verbalize such things.

"Morpheus, I love you very much and I don't care about this competition, can I kiss you ?"

"You can." he sighed with relief and what looked like a smile.

This kiss was much nicer than the first. Probably because it had been desired for more than two years now. Y/N would have liked it to last forever.

"And… For the third one ? Do I have to wait until next year ?" she asked nervously, keeping her hands on his shoulders, thinking he would leave as soon as she let go.

"You can take as many kisses as you want, my love. You can take everything you want."

"Dream… My Dream…"

It was difficult to know what happened in the Dreaming at this moment. No doubt that Lucienne and Matthew announced to the other participants that they could leave because they had lost. Then the wedding planning began.

Y/N hadn't thought about marriage. She had only thought about Morpheus, silly Morpheus, and all the love she had for him. They would need to discuss all of this. But right now, she was too busy kissing him again and again, and him not devouring her with his endless passion.

"I'm glad it's you." he whispered against her lips. "I have to go now. We'll see each other tonight, I'll wait for you."

Being a man of his word, he left a book on the sofa before disappearing. A love story with a happy ending, maybe because he knew they would be fine, or just because he hoped they would.

Y/N read it before going to sleep to join her future kingdom, and her stupid prince of dreams.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

//

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

//

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you. 

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing. 

//

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”  

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

//

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

//

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him,  finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

[hjparisian]

need you to fill the void- harry j potter x reader

ib: void-the neighbourhood

warnings: slight smut (p in v), tiny bit angsty(?)

It was always on and off with (Y/N) and Harry. Never seeming to last more than a few weeks until he runs back off to Cho or is pining over Ginny Weasley. Even then, nothing stops them from turning him away.

It all began in fifth year after the whole tri-wizard-tournament-cedric-dying fiasco. (Y/N) was there for Harry, comforting him when the nightmares hit, when Seamus and others didn't believe Harry when he said Voldemort was back. They were there for him. Things led to another and they used sex as a way to forget. Forget the outside world. Forget about anyone else. It was only them and no one else. And (Y/N) liked it that way.

Harry cuts it off after telling them he is starting to like Cho, but hopes to stay friends. Even though it stung, (Y/N) agreed. But he would come back. Saying he misses what they have, goes back to Cho, comes back after the DA was discovered because of her and being upset, falling for Ginny, coming back after the death of his godfather Sirius Black, the list could go on and on.

After a while, (Y/N) started to have enough. Having liked Harry since second year, all they wanted was to actually have him for longer. To hold him forever. But the one thing they fear if they were to tell him off about this is that he'll leave them. The one person who made them feel everything, just out of their life.

Which is why when he shows up to their empty room needing to clear his head, all thoughts left their head, accepting him with open arms. Harry babbling words consisting of "I'm sorry" and "I need you." Which led to the situation they are in now.

(Y/N) riding Harry, his hands on their hips helping to guide their movements. Praises coming out of his mouth. "You feel so good. Can't believe I haven't touched you in a week." Anything to make you believe he truly missed you. Anything to make him wonder how he's gone by without laying a hand on you for days on end.

Harry's right hand drags up (Y/N)'s body, pulling them down to leave traces of him on their neck. "You make me feel alive. You fill the void in me," he lowly mumbles in their neck. Their pace going faster and faster. "God Harry," (Y/N) begins. "Don't stop, please!" The feeling of an orgasm building up in them.

A couple more thrusts led to the feeling of paradise. The need to release. The smell of sex filling up the empty air of the room, sounds of heavy breaths and panting replacing the silence of the dorm. (Y/N) pulls themselves out of Harry, laying beside him.

"I've missed you," Harry starts, staring at them. "You just make me feel something different. You make the empty feeling go away." (Y/N) doesn't say a word, not knowing if Harry is speaking truthfully this time or if it's just the cloudy feeling in his head. They feel him shift closer, his hand touching their thigh, lips touching their neck. Harry still needs more.

It's not rare for them to go for another round or two. (Y/N) accepts that fact. This means that they'll be able to hold each other for longer. Feel each other for longer. Maybe he'll actually stay with them for once. Maybe he won't go back to pining after Ginny. Maybe they won't only be there to fill the void in poor Harry.

Even if he leaves and tries to comes back, (Y/N) knows in the back of their head, no matter how much they truly hate this, no matter how much they wanna say no, they'll always let Harry in. That's how much they truly love Harry.

"You paralyze me every time I try to find some paradise I've got to fill the void And now I'm paranoid"