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actually-safer-to-kiss · 4 months

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Secretly Mine

Summary: Spencer and Reader have been seeing each other for a while without the team's knowledge

Category: Fluff

Couple: Spencer/BAU Fem!Reader

Content warnings: None

Word count: 1.5k

Eight months have passed since your arrival at the BAU. You’re an integral part of the team. Hotch has been sure to let you know. You’ve stood out with your eye for detail at certain crime scenes, outshining even some of the team’s more seasoned members. Luckily, the academy’s rumors about the Quantico team’s bond have rang true time and time again, so competition and jealousy never became an issue. It only made them respect you and even open up to you.

One person who has particularly opened up to you is the genius of the group, Spencer Reid. The secret you learned: he’s a gentle kisser. Almost childishly chaste, but nothing seemed more fitting for his personality. What was surprising was the setting of your first kiss.

New York City police invited the team to investigate the terrorist cell killing random people across the city. Their attacks grew more volatile by the time you all arrived, placing bombs on government vehicles. One of these bombs hurt Hotch, and SSA Joyner did not survive the same blast. The results could have been worse, considering.

Your team faced the problem of uncertainty regarding who (if anyone) had been injured at that moment. Spencer was with Rossi at the police station while the rest of you were on the ground. That damn terrorist organization interfered with signals and transmissions all the time, and this was no different. You, by your luck, were the most difficult to get in contact with, despite being safe at Federal Plaza. You met with the team when it was safe to do so and all targeted areas were cleared. Most of you sighed in relief. Garcia even held your face, as if to make sure you were real, alive and, breathing.

Spencer held your face too, but not in the same way. You both took refuge by the water cooler, surprisingly where no one was present in a once-crowded New York City police station. You talked about what happened, Hotch’s current condition, and how long to expect these nerves to last. Your nerves didn’t settle, though, when Spencer’s knuckles brushed your cheek as he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You didn’t blame these nerves, though, when you leaned into the touch, looking up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Spencer was cute, obviously, but workplace relationships are highly unprofessional and even a liability, if the case they just survived wasn’t enough proof of that. You’d think (well, you knew actually) Spencer of all people would know this. He knows everything. When you had a case in Baltimore involving the Ravens, he told you their name came from Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem. Then he explained the detailed theories surrounding his untimely death. Spencer believes it has something to do with cooping, whatever that means, you dared not to ask. There’s nothing he doesn’t consider.

So, Spencer must have considered all the odds of professional behavior in that moment by the water cooler since his lips delicately brushed yours. It was barely a kiss at first, until he leaned in for another, to where you could feel the warmth of his mouth and felt that he could do with some lip exfoliant. The last part you didn’t care about because it was practically over before it began. Neither of you said anything about it. Instead, you stayed there for a while, not touching or talking. Then Morgan told the team to pack up and get ready to go home.

Throughout the past month, you and Spencer have shared many kissing sessions. Not at work, though, because you both still have some sense. Kissing Spencer, though, tends to not leave you with much sense. His gentleness is not a front. His touches are tender and he’s never pushed you beyond your limits. It’s a good thing then that he’s a gentleman, so he earned kisses through dinners, movies, and day trips. It was something to look forward to in between grueling cases.

And it wasn’t even off work when Spencer would bring joy to you. There was a case recently in North Carolina that shook you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to mention what specifically, as it’s something you haven’t spoken about in a long time, but the team picked up on it quickly. They checked on you and even asked if you needed to sit out. You powered through and came to a satisfactory (for lack of a better word) conclusion. Afterward, Spencer invited you to ice cream. It was a welcoming change of scenery, despite the ice cream place being called Jack the Dipper. It was hilariously fitting, so it really wasn’t an issue. Spencer didn’t ask about what happened or what made you feel so disturbed. Throughout the night, he just made sure to ask if you were okay.

You haven’t been okay for a while. Not because of that case, but because it’s been three months now and you are still running around with Spencer without the team’s knowledge. The team might feel cheated (and Hotch might be pissed) because they are not aware of this information, but the uneasiness of all this was starting to settle in. The fear, the worry that this might just be all for nothing. Outside of the office, he shows that he cares. He knows things about you that you haven't revealed in some time. And apparently he has done the same. Bruises from harsh kisses around your bodies linger under work clothes from a weekend in, and the team has been none the wiser. And you’re not sure if you’re as okay with it as you thought you were.

The team went out to the bar on a Thursday, celebrating a government holiday the night before (i.e. a three-day weekend). The team took shots, bet money, threw darts, and Emily ended up with the most by closing. You would’ve coughed up more cash throughout the night if you were confident in your bets.

Spencer barely looked at you. Didn’t brush your hand or even stand near you for too long, like you had the plague or whatever Poe died from. It didn’t help the feeling in your core, and neither did the walk home. Morgan drove Garcia home, Hotch with Rossi, and J.J. with Emily. And of course, Spencer with you. When J.J. drove away after boasting about avoiding a ticket on an expired meter, Spencer didn’t hesitate to reach for your hand. It was nice, and as the weather grew colder, it was a welcomed warmth. But how could it not feel at least a little sour?

His apartment wasn’t far from here, so you walked. Your hands were laced the entire time, but he didn’t breathe a word and you couldn’t tell if that should make you feel better or worse.

It wasn’t until you climbed the steps to his door that he asked, “Are you staying the night?”

You swallowed. Unlike Emily, Garcia, and Rossi, you were on the side of tipsy rather than in dire need of a toilet to bury your head into. “Sure.” You said. “If you want me to.”

“Yeah,” He said, fiddling with his key and lock. “Of course I want you to.”

He finally opens the door and turns on the living room light. You barely had time to put your purse down before his lips were on yours. They were still chapped like the first time, except you could forgive that because of the growing cold outside. His hands hold your waist, they creep to your back. You couldn’t help but lean in, away from the door he pressed you into. It was when Spencer moaned in your mouth that you broke away. Catching your breath, you try putting together a sentence. But breathing is difficult right now for both of you. Spencer’s eyes are lazy and his breath still lingers with a scent of the mint gum he spit out when he showed up to the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you think it’s the start to an actual apology. “I was trying to stay patient.” He kisses you again, softly. And you kiss him back still. He moans again. “I want you.”

You swallow again. Your throat is so dry. “Spencer, I—”

“I want to tell them.” He interrupts.

You blink, it quickens as you take in the words. “What?”

His hands cup your face. He brushes the messy bangs from your forehead. “I want to tell them. About this. About us. I just…” He trails off. That is not something you’re used to seeing. “I want more time with you.”

As Spencer’s words sank in, you felt a mix of apprehension and longing, wondering just what could go wrong. A lot, in fact. But you have to believe he’s being honest. Why wouldn’t he be?

And with a soft smile, you reached for his hand and met his gaze. “I want that too,” you said, feeling the weight of it finally being lifted off your chest. “I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you about it earlier. I was being selfish.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would. Because it’s true. But that changes now.” The look on his face, the fully sober look on his face. He’s all in. “I will tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

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berzahoes · 5 months

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moments | tom blyth

summary: moments with tom and you <3 oh, and keanu reeves is also there! (reeves!reader)

an: nepo baby reader my beloved 🫶🏼

ON SET OF BILLY THE KID

since your dad had a few weeks off, he decided to visit you and tom on the set of billy the kid, which was filming in canada. tom was nervous since this would be the first time your dad would see him act in person. you understood why since your dad was a big name in hollywood (and also named the nicest guy).

“he just texted, he’s here.” you told tom, who was in already in his billy the kid attire. you were hanging out in his trailer until he was called to set.

“is this really happening?” tom sighed. “keanu reeves is going to see me act . . . holy shit.”

“just pretend he’s not there or just relax. he loves you and he loves everything you’ve been in.” you stood up from the chair and walked over to him.

“apart from being a big actor, he’s your dad. what if he sees that i’m not good enough to be with you?”

“if he ever says anything like that, run. that’s not the real keanu reeves,” you replied and placed a kiss on his lips. “i’ll be right back, I’m going to go find him.”

“i have to be on set in two minutes. i’ll meet you guys over there.” tom said as you exited his trailer in search of your dad.

eventually, you found him talking to the stunt coordinator about, one of his favorite subjects, motorcycles.

“sorry to interrupt,” you apologized for cutting into their conversation.

“no worries, i better get going. it was really nice talking to you. thank you.” the stunt coordinator said as he walked away.

“tom said he’s going to meet us on set. they’re about to start filming.” you and your dad walked to where tom had told you to go.

“this is really nice. did you see that horse over there? beautiful horse. remember when you didn’t want to ride the horse on set of john wick?” keanu teased. you rolled your eyes playfully and kept walking to the set.

the scene tom would be filming was the opening scene of the whole show. your dad quickly made friends with the producers and director and sat by them when filming began. you watch your boyfriend get into character and deliver his lines perfectly. you didn’t know what it was, but you loved seeing him as billy the kid.

“cut! that was great, tom! we got it!” the director shouted. immediately your dad started applauding as loud as he could.

then tom joined you and your dad. “tom, that was amazing. you did an incredible job.” your dad complimented him.

“thank you, sir. it means a lot that you’re here.” tom replied. he still couldn’t believe keanu freaking reeves watched him act. you two have been together for quite a while so he didn’t have to be so nervous around your dad. but he was and hearing keanu say such kind words to him calmed him down.

“dad was talking about the horse.” you said, pointing to the horse that tom called his.

before you knew it, both of your guys were walking in the direction of the horse.

LUNCH WITH THE FAMILY

it was a nice day out in new york city. before you dad started filming for his new movie, he wanted to have lunch with you, tom and his partner, alexandra. he picked out where you would have lunch and texted you the address. it wasn’t that far from tom’s apartment so you decided to walk.

“what do you think your dad is going to say about this?” tom asked, referring to his recently bleached blonde hair.

“i think he’ll like it. i like it, but i do kiss the brown hair.” you admitted. soon enough, you made it to the restaurant. your dad had gotten an outside table so you easily spotted him and alexandra waiting for you and tom.

tom had a hat on so your had hadn’t noticed the blonde hair until tom took it off. alexandra gasped as keanu chuckled. “you look great, man.” he brought tom in for a hug.

“you do look great, tom.” alexandra agreed and stood up from her chair to greet you and tom.

“hi, sweetheart,” keanu said as he hugged you and kissed your cheek. “when are you going blonde?”

“never. i think the only time i ever dyed my hair was when i had a mental breakdown during seventh grade and dyed my hair red.” you said as you sat next to tom.

“she had me up at two am helping her rinse because she didn’t want to get dye on her fingers.” keanu continued.

“you had red hair? i need to see that.” tom chuckled.

eventually the paparazzi found you and they kept some distance, but they still annoyed you. you four took the opportunity to mess with them and posed with peace signs or funny faces. it reminded you of the times when you did the exact same thing years ago with your dad. whenever he took you out to eat, the paparazzi would arrive seconds later taking pictures of you two. keanu suggested making faces at the camera so you did just that. now, you were doing the same thing but with your boyfriend, dad and stepmom.

KEANU REEVES, PROFESSIONAL THIRD WHEEL

“how’s the family?” stephen colbert asked. you dad was a guest and his show and he loved any chance he had to talk about you.

“family is doing really great, thanks for asking. i’ve spending a lot of time with my daughter. her and i are doing lots of activities like pottery, she loves pottery.” he explained.

“that’s great. and do you two always hang out when you’re not busy?” stephen asked.

“yeah, she sometimes has her friends over and i call her and ask if i could come over and then i take her friends and her to dinner or bowling.” he laughed as he remembered all the times he took your friends out so he could also spend time with you.

“i don’t know if you’re aware of this, but twitter has actually named you the professional third wheel because of these photos.” stephen showed keanu and the audience some paparazzi photos of you and tom walking hand in hand down the streets of new york and to the side was your dad with an ice cream cone in his hand.

“oh man, i mean it was going to happen,” keanu said. you and your dad actually had an agreement about what stuff he could share about when it came to being asked about you in interviews. “tom is a great guy, he’s the best.it looks like they’re annoyed with me, but I promise they’re not.” he laughed as another picture was shown of tom talking to him, but he was still holding your hand. whatever it was that tom and your dad were talking about, it seemed really interesting since they weren’t paying attention to you at all.

“oh no,” keanu hid his face in embarrassment. “she looks mad at me, i hope she wasn’t mad.”

“this is my favorite one yet.” stephen added as another picture came on screen.

the picture showed you on your phone walking while your dad and tom walked behind laughing hysterically at something that someone had said.

“are you sure i’m the third wheel?” keanu joked as the audience laughed.

“is tom blyth single?”

the cast of the ballad of songbirds and snakes were doing the wired autocomplete interview and it was tom’s turn to answer questions.

“i am not. i have a beautiful, lovely wonderful girlfriend.” he answered with a smile.

“and his name is keanu reeves!” rachel added followed by josh laughing.

“the pictures don’t lie, tom!”

#tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #tbosas #billy the kid #nepo baby!reader

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heartpascal · 11 months

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is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh

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futureplayboibunnie · 8 months

Text

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 9

Miguel O’Hara x fem!spidey reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

horny and angsty? yes pls.

NSFW. 18+.

Miguel wasn't lying

He didn't let you leave your apartment for the entire weekend.

You definitely weren't complaining but he wore you out tirelessly for hours on end. He fucked you on every surface, christening each space for his own personal fulfiliment. He bent you over, pressed your knees together, threw you to the floor, sank to his knees- he did everything.

"Tell me you're mine. Scream it for me.”

“Always. I always have been.”

The way you said that stuck with Miguel a lot longer than he was expecting or comfortable with, it rolled off of your sweet tongue with an unbridled ease, like you were meant to say it.

“I always have been.” Miguel frowned as his brain placed further emphasis on what you said.

It started on Friday night and now it's Sunday night, he was half expecting you to kick him out but he was still here...lying in bed with you after an entire weekend of fucking each other senseless. It was the most soul-replenishing and fulfilling weekend he'd ever had. The night was starless, grey, and bleak clouds hung over the sky as if to reflect his mood, straying by the second, the rain flooded and pounded against the curtainless window and his senses. As he glanced over your frame, he saw the New York city skyline bean up yellow and red lights. The rumbling of thunder and the flashes of lightning stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he felt the soft inhale of your breath. Your naked body pressed into the mattress, the white sheets covering you in slivers.

Even when you were sleeping you looked so effortlessly beautiful. Miguel glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was 2 AM. It was Monday tomorrow. That's when reality set in. His work, the pressure of his job, to control that many people and make sure the multiverse was safe. Miguel frowned at the thought. He wanted to spend the rest of his nights here with you, lying in bed with you and watching you breathe. But he loves being Spiderman, he was attached to what he had to do even if he didn't like it, he was so conditioned to doing his job he never once considered what a normal life could be like after what Gabriella- then you came along, destroying any semblance of peace he had left. You mumbled something unintelligible as you sprawled out even further. Your slender hands slid under the pillow, he kept staring at you like a lovesick fool, filled to the brim with anxiety and desperation as he quietly brooded. He felt like you caught him when he saw your eyelashes flutter. A lazy smile played on your lips. You definitely caught him.

“Go to sleep.” You muttered like you were scolding a small child, opening your eyes fully to see Miguel solemn and brooding.

“Can't.” He clipped, raking a hand through his already messy hair. Your mood changed exactly as he did, you flashed him a concerned look. Miguel always found a way to sabotage himself, to find the bad in every spot he was in and you were tired of it. You leaned down on your elbows, pursing your lips in confusion.

“Talk to me.” You say gently but all Miguel could hear was a sensual deity whispering sweet nothing.

Miguel was conflicted, a surge of sadness washed over and tightened his chest but he was very determined not to show it, his eyebrows creased in determination. Trying hard to keep the front he's manufactured over the course of many brutal and unforgiving years, being cold and distant was the only thing he knew to be even if it was you that was trying to pry it out of him. He couldn't just change overnight, not for you, not for anyone but part of him wanted to be better, to be better for you. Miguel's jaw ticked as he mumbled, attempting to conceal the fact that he wasn't particularly in a talkative mood- but you were nothing but persistent.

“Please?” Your hand went to reach out and lay on his chest but he stopped you before you could even touch him, he gripped your wrist and stared at you, his demeanor drastically changing. His grip was tightening and your eyes widened slightly, confused and concerned.

“Don't.” He said softly but stern enough that you got the message, his eyes were gleaming with a faint hue of red. You cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, after an unforgettable weekend, he was acting like you were a stranger- like all your use to him was sex, He was going to treat you like crap when you got to your normal life again. You frowned at the thought as you snatched your wrist back.

“What happens now?” You whisper woefully, a sad look ashening your beautiful face- the moonlight kissed your features perfectly.

"We go back to strangers, hating each other?” You say bitterly.

“What? No.” He shot you a look mixed with confusion and anger as if what you said was stupid.

“So we don't hate each other anymore, we fucked and we're gonna go back to work and act like nothing happened?”

“'I just- I don't know.” His answer didn't dampen your straying frustration at him, you pursed your lips in anger. mere idea.

“This was a one-time thing? So I'm just gonna go back to fucking other guys?” You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly peeved at the idea.

Miguel was internally devastated that you even thought to mention that, his body stilled with rage at the image of someone else touching you the way he did. It was as if his heart was being strangled by your bare aching fists. He wanted to grab you, flip you over and fuck you until his hips fracture but instead, he stayed brooding in silence, a storm brewing in his head.

Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together as his talons dug into your skin slightly, you gave him an unimpressed look as he pulled your body closer to his. “No.” He said harshly, completely dismissing the idea of you going out and hooking up with other people like he had that sort of power over you. “Absolutely not.” Although you were pissed at him right now, your body was feeling entirely different, your pussy throbbed. You adjusted yourself, trying to stifle your arousal but it got ten times worse when your nipples brushed and hardened at the slightest contact of the mattress. Miguel was psychoanalyzing your every move, his gaze didn't soften at all, He liked that you were still in heat, even more so when you were trying to suppress it. You were confused when you saw him get up from the bed and then sit at the foot of it, his back facing you, looking more and more pissed with every passing moment.

"Come here.” he turned his head a fraction, enough for you to see slivers of red in his eye.

"Are you kidding?” You scoffed.

“Do I look like I'm asking?” His voice was mean and cold, a ruthless sharp vibration in your ears. Your body ached at the sound of his voice alone.

You were still bitter as you crossed your arms defensively. You rolled your eyes at him and decided to give into his unexplained whims, you got out of the bed with a huff and walked around it, Your naked body gleamed in the moonlight as you stood in front of him, Miguel's eyes were steely and din, unamused by your constant disrespect, asking the questions he didn't want to think about let alone answer, He hated that you brought up the idea of fucking other people and he hated the way he felt about it. This weekend was pleasure and pain combined- he made you feel euphoric, keeping you at that edge and then pummelling you. It was pain but it was perfect pain. Now you were pissing him off and he wasn't in the mood to be delicate and easy. He wouldn't give you the courtesy of telling you what he was going to do to you, he just wanted to do it.

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, he looked up at you like you were a dirty little whore acting unattainable- how ironic.

Miguel's palms traced over the dip of your waist softly and you pursed your lips slightly, acting unbothered. He hated it. we wanted to shock you, his right hand spanked your ass harshly, the sound ripped through the air and you gasped. You were his helpless little whore. Instead of talking about his feelings, he was gonna fuck it out of himself instead.

“Turn around and sit on my lap.” He demanded coldly, the look in his eyes was one of silent fury, His face sere slashes of rough arousal and boiling anger, Your eyes went from half-lidded annoyance to a bewildered shock, he liked it. you unhinged your jaw to say a smartass remark but he raised his eyebrow and that subdued you immediately, you turned your back to him and sat on his lap.

Your back facing his front, your ass nudging his already hard cock. Before you could even properly adjust, he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled them up, your legs dangling off of his arms. a breathy moan escaped from your throat and Miguel's lips were pressed against your ear.

“I'm going to fuck you like this and you're gonna shut up and not bitch to me, understand cariño?” His hot breath landed on your ear, goosebumps rising at the shell of it. You hung your head back and it landed on his broad shoulder, moaning already.

“Yes, I understand.” You breathed softly. Miguel lowered your down on his cock, plunging into you and stretching you out until the his fangs licked and bit at your shoulder blade. “Ah- M-Mig-“ He pummelled into you roughly, bouncing you up and down as his fangs bit your shoulder blade.

“Run that fuckin mouth again, mention any other guy you fucked and I'll bully your cunt until you're fuckin sobbing, get the picture?” He groans raggedly, biting into your shoulder, specks of blood seeping out of your skin as he bounces you up and down.

“O-Okay! I get it...” You stuttered out, moaning like a bitch in heat as he plowed into you even harder, your slick running down your thighs. Your hands flew back and tangled in Miguel's hair, pulling hard and rubbing his neck.

“You're clenching so hard querida...my horny little bunny g'na make a mess on my cock over and over and over again.” He mumbled drunkenly in your ear, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. His words shot straight to your aching pussy, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits as Miguel kept manhandling you like a little fuckdoll. The tightening coil in your lower gut snapped as you came, dripping all down his cock and thighs. Throughout this past weekend, Maguel had taken you in any which way but he was way more harsh and pissed this time around. You withstood it all happily. As you clamped down harder Miguel's grip had gotten tighter, bouncing you up and down harder. with that one final thrust and clamp, it didn't take long for him to finish, his hot cum spilling out of you. His groans were your favorite kind of music, it echoed through the chasms of his throat.

But Miguel didn't stop, he kept bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you and fucking you through your Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Miguel- It's spilling out.” You warn meekly but your voice gets lost.

“I don't care. I'll be done with you when I want to be done with you. Now shut up and take it.” He grits between clenched teeth, his jaw setting in anger. He kept going and going, stretching you out, hitting that spot he'd hit so many times in the past two days, spot you never even knew existed before him. You milked him dry and he stilled, sparks lighting under your skin.

Miguel's grip on you softened, letting go of your legs, your feet now settling on the ground, his dick still plugged in you. Both of you were softly panting, your breaths mingling as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, mouth slack and lazy. Both of you were still full of conflicting emotions, but it still wasn't properly released. The passion clouded both of you and it made you feel hazy enough to forget about it during the collision of your bodies, but after as you got a chance to breathe- the thoughts and feelings came back up again. Your hair was wild and messy, your body limp in his arms. Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist as you nested between his legs, he softly kissed the shell of your ear but you weren't buying what he was selling. This sudden act of soft affection after he quite literally fucked you full of anger and pent-up frustration- there was something he wasn't telling you but you were afraid to find out.

An embittered look carved onto your face, and that's when you stood up and got off of him, Miguel raised an eyebrow at what you were doing. Your naked body shimmered as the pale moonlight outside lit you up, you were acting unbothered again and he really fucking hated it. “What are you thinking?” He murmured with restraint, leaning back on his hands.

"Gonna take a shower.” you said softly, but your tone was almost as if you were talking to an acquaintance, not a man you gave your entire body to.

You went into the bathroom of your room, turning the light on and then the shower. Miguel watched you intently as you moved swiftly, closing the door- like you were locking him out. A frown settled on his face. He heard you step into the shower, a faint smell of citrus shampoo traveling through the cracks. Miguel sat with himself for a few minutes and decided that he didn't want to stay here alone. Miguel stood up and opened the bathroom door, steam flowing into the bedroom and circulating at the tips of the ceiling.

The glass casing of the shower made for a perfect view of your slick and wet body. Your hands were doing their work shampooing your hair, your ass looked even more perfect. The soap flowed out of your hair with ease, your fingers squeezing out the excess. you heard a slight shift that made you whip your head around, it was Miguel. “Can I join you?” he says uncharacteristically gently.

“Sure.” You said with a lazy smile. He was pleased that you let him get close to you, he loved being near you any way he could, watching you like a lovesick fool. You looked so natural, so pretty.

Miguel slid open the glass door and stood next to you in the shower, in your element, and for a strange reason Miguel wanted to take care of you. You flashed him a bashful look, throwing your head as a signal for him to get under the stream, he did, letting the water flow to all corners of his body, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, he raked a hand through his hair to slick it back. You were gawking at Miguel, seeing how his muscles tensed under the shower, the water flowing down his abs effortlessly. You blinked up at him dumbly and Miguel caught onto It.

“Mind if I-?” Miguel was acting like a horny teenager, even though he's literally fucked you sideways, in an intimate setting like this- he was nervous. He squeezed some shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, lathering it. You nodded softly, turning your back on him, you were still quite far away though. He didn't like that, Miguel pulled your hair back so you could stumble back a few steps, your ass making contact with his cock. Miguel didn't even let you be surprised about it when he started massaging your scalp. It buzzed your body alive, you hummed appreciatively as his big hands raked through your hair.

“Mmmm...I didn't think you'd ever be domestic.” you say with a raised eyebrow, looking slightly defensive and miguel just huffed.

“I'm not..” His tone was clippy and you didn't like it.

"Yeah..”

You shrug him off and go under the stream, twisting your hair so the soap suds and water drain out of it, you didn't give his the privilege of eye contact. You couldn't deny that you were a little sad that once morning rolled around, he would leave and you would go back to working at HQ, ignoring each other.

next chapter is gonna be the last!

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#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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lokiswifeduh · 1 month

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Long Night

Pairings - Roommate!tfatws!Bucky x Fem!Roommate!Reader

Summary - You've been stood up twice in a row now. Bucky is tired of seeing you disappointed. So he takes you on a date.

Warnings - angst, being stood up, angry/annoyed bucky

Notes - I'm horrible at summaries, I know!! This happened to me a couple days ago, wishing I had a Bucky to take me on a date in Brooklyn right about now! Not proofread so lmk if there are any mistakes! Thank you for reading loves!!

WC - 1,750

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"Whatcha gettin' ready for, doll?" Bucky leaned on your bedroom doorframe, watching you straighten your hair in the mirror on top of your dresser.

"I have a date." You smiled, not noticing the slight drop in Bucky's smile.

"Oh, with anyone I know?"

You shook your head. "His name's Nash. Someone Sam set me up with," You explained. "He's supposed to pick me up in twenty minutes."

Bucky internally rolled his eyes. The guys Sam hung around with were nice, yes. However, he never got the guts to take you out on the date you deserved. A date with him.

"Are you sure you want him picking you up?" Bucky asked, making you look back in confusion. "I mean you don't know him that well... You could meet him there or uh, I'll drop you off." You let out a small laugh, "Yeah Buck, I'll just have my male roommate drop me off at a date, that'll go over well."

Bucky shrugged. He walked away from your bedroom to grab a beer from the fridge before sitting on the couch. He turned on whatever channel didn't require him to use the remote too much before slouching into the cushions.

Twenty minutes passed by when you slipped out of your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

"Wow, doll. You.." Bucky's eyes widened slightly, "You look great."

You grinned, looking down at your outfit. It was basic but it was the most comfortable yet fashionable outfit you had. Black flared leggings with a sage green sweater and some white sneakers. It was simple yet appropriate for a late-night-diner date.

And to top it all off your makeup had cooperated for once. Both eyebrows looked like twins and not sisters. Your highlight was perfect, shimmering, but not too much. And you had the perfect lipgloss that made your lips look sunkissed. Perfect.

"He should be here any minute!" You sprayed some perfume, your favorite vanilla scent, and went to sit in the armchair across from the couch.

Bucky hummed, keeping his eyes on the Tv, taking another sip of beer.

However, twenty more minutes went by and Nash hadn't texted you, hadn't called, and hadn't shown up. Bucky was starting to feel bad and you could tell by the pity looks he kept throwing your way.

"He uhm," Bucky cleared his throat, "Maybe he hit traffic. You know, with it being New York and everything." You nodded, trying to hold onto at least a small bit of hope. "Yeah, traffic." But then another forty minutes went by and he still hadn't even texted.

And then another hour.

And another hour.

By the time Bucky finally turned off the Tv it was three and a half hours since the time Nash was supposed to come pick you up.

You were still sitting in the armchair, having dozed off with a couple tears streaked down your face. Ruining your once-perfect makeup.

Bucky sighed, silently cursing Sam even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

"Alright, doll," Bucky whispered, placing his metal arm behind your back, and lifting your legs with his right. You groaned awake, holding your phone in your palm as you wiped your cheek. "What time is it?" Your eyes shoot open, "Did he show up?" Bucky placed you in your bed, handing you one of his t-shirts you had stolen a while ago. "No, doll. I'm sorry." You stripped your shirt off to change as Bucky went into your bathroom, grabbing a couple of makeup wipes.

"Here." He softly spoke, hating your distraught and disappointed expression.

You wiped your makeup off, shedding a couple more tears in the process. The tears dripped from your cheek to the grey henley Bucky had given you. "It's okay. Maybe he was just busy." Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to tell you that any respectful man, any gentleman wouldn't have done what Nash did to you. But he kept his mouth shut, opting to hum in your favor, and threw the makeup wipes in the trash when your face was completely bare.

"Goodnight, Doll." He placed a kiss on the crown of your head as you hummed in response. "Goodnight, Buck."

---

A couple days later, you finally got a text back from Nash.

"Bucky I was right!!" You came sliding into the kitchen, your socks making it easy to ice-skate on the smooth wood floor.

Bucky chuckled at your ability to skid so gracefully without falling. He had tried it once but vowed to never do it again after he slid into the dining room table. You would never let him live it down.

"Right about what, doll?" Bucky flipped the pancake, adding some vanilla to the dough.

"About Nash! He actually was busy!" Bucky quirked an eyebrow. Wondering why he had waited this long to text you back. Six days to be exact. "Did he say with what?" Bucky turned back to making breakfast.

"He said he got busy with work, and that something at work pissed him off so he didn't wanna see me while he was upset." You explained what Nash had told you.

Bucky had never wanted to hit someone in the face so hard.

Well, actually that wasn't true. But he did want to sock Nash in the face for standing you up and giving you a half-ass excuse days later.

"I mean that explains things, yeah..." Your brows furrowed at Bucky's flat tone. "Do you not believe it?" Bucky sighed, pulling the milk and eggs from the fridge as you sat on the countertop. "It's not that I don't believe it, it's just that it kinda seems like he forgot and or didn't wanna see you so he made up an excuse a little less than a week later to not seem like a dick." You nodded, taking in the information. Bucky couldn't sense your reaction quite yet, seeing how you were just staring at the ground with your hands in your lap, swinging your legs in the air.

"I mean, I'm seeing him tonight. If everything goes well after then I'll know it really was true."

"You're seeing him again?" You nod, "But this time I'm meeting him at the fourth corner Bakery. And I'm meeting him earlier this time, around noon."

Bucky looked over at the clock, seeing it was already 10:45. "Well you better go get ready," He said almost reluctantly, "Breakfast will be done before you need to leave."

You smiled, hopping off the countertop as you gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Buck. You're the best!"

He smiled, but then remembered he's only making you breakfast before you go on a date with a guy who's already stood you up once. Rolling his eyes, he scrambled the eyes, listening to your music in the other room.

---

You had already left for your date three hours ago when Bucky decided to go over to see Sam. His excuse was wanting to discuss the next mission they were due to go on in a week. But he just didn't want to sit at home all day, thinking about how you were on a date with another guy.

However, before he could reach Sam's he had to pass by the bakery where you were meeting Nash.

Yet when he looked through the window, there you were, sitting all alone at a table for two, eating a piece of cheesecake. No Nash in sight.

An internal war started in Bucky's mind. Should he go in and see if you were okay? Or should he believe Nash was in the bathroom and you were just sitting by yourself for a minute or two?

But then he noticed the solemn look on your face. The way your fork poked at the half-eaten cake. And that was your favorite kind. Bucky mumbled a soft curse, opening the door to the bakery and making his way over to you.

Without words, he sat down, his gloved hand resting on the table in front of your plate. You kept your head down, not quite looking at Bucky but knowing he was there.

"He didn't show, again." You mumbled. If Bucky didn't have super soldier hearing he doubted he could've heard what you had said.

"I know, doll. I'm sorry." You finally looked up, tears in your eyes which made Bucky's heart clench. "Why me, Buck? Why am I the one who's alone?" Bucky stayed silent, knowing you needed to vent.

"Am I unlovable? Is that what it is? Why does every single one of my friends get to find the one? Get to fall in love, get married, and have kids and I'm the one without someone?!" Your outburst made some other customers look over in concern.

You groaned, resting your head on your hand and hiding your face from the rest of the bakery. "I- uh, I'm not sure, doll. But I know one thing.. you're not unlovable. You just haven't found the one who wants to take the effort to show you how effortless you are to love."

You looked up at Bucky, fresh tears gleaming in your eyes. You had never seen him look so vulnerable before. He usually grumped his way through emotions. But not with you, not anymore.

He gave you a sad smile, clearing his throat before he stood, "Y'know what, doll. Let's go." He held out his hand. You looked around, "Where are we going?" Bucky took your palm in his gloved hand, "It's a surprise." You laughed, before standing and throwing the rest of your soggy cheesecake away. "You know how I feel about surprises." "Okay, I'll give you a hint." Bucky opened the door for you, making sure to walk on the side of the road with the bustling cars and traffic. Bucky called a taxi, opening the door for you. "You're about to have the best date of your life." You stared at him in awe before laughing and climbing in the taxi. Bucky's knees barely fit as he scooted in next to you. The driver asked where to go as Bucky licked his lips, "Brooklyn, please." You smiled, "Brooklyn?"

Bucky nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "I may be old but I still know some good spots to take my best girl on a date." A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked over to him. "Your best girl?" Bucky nodded, picking up your hand with his metal one before leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. "Always and forever, doll."

---

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astroboots · 11 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you're saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 930 words.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Next Issue]

You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building towards certain death.

Life doesn't flash before your eyes. Maybe your life was too unremarkable to have stand out moments worth a replay.

A run of the mill childhood. An unsatisfactory office job. Single, no kids, just a toxic relationship with your phone and a tiktok addiction. It's no surprise there is no reel of Kodak moments as the brick cladding whizzes you by.

The only image in your head is a blur of shiny red and blue spandex, shoving into your side that split second before you were flung out of the skyscraper.

The wind rushes past you and into your eyes. Arms sprawling to your side, instinctively trying but failing to clutch to anything solid.

You try not to think about how much it's going to hurt when your skull hits the pavement. Instead you think about how statistically, every year in New York alone an average of 3,000 people either die or is so gravely injured that they cannot rejoin the workforce due to Supes incidents. Something you learned on your first day as an insurance underwriter.

And now here you are, falling through the sky, about to become a statistic. Head first like you are diving into a swimming pool from a trampoline. Except instead of water it is going to be the hard, punishing concrete of New York.

Fuck. You are going to die.

This can't be the end. You've barely lived.

The wind beats against your face, the grey concrete grows wider and nearer, eating into the rest. You're not ready.

You don't want to die.

Oh god, you don't want to die yet.

You want to live. You want to live. You want to live. You want to--

Everything slows to a halt like you've stepped on the break pedals in a car and the view from the windows no longer speeds past you. For a moment you think it must be a trick of your mind, trying to spare you from the pain.

Then everything goes in reverse, pulled back into the air as the grey concrete recedes again. Instead of falling it feels like you are flying. In your vision grey concrete is replaced by red and blue.

You don't know what's happening but a firm solid weight wraps around your torso that reminds you of an embrace.

"I got you," an unfamiliar voice tells you. You reach out and instead of empty air, the welcomed warmth of the man's broad shoulders and firm chest meets your touch.

"You're safe," he continues, reassuringly. His voice is calm and deep and even though you don't know this man, haven't even seen his face, you trust him.

You're saved.

The two of you descend. Not falling. It's controlled, like you're gently floating downwards and this time without the threat of impending death looming by your feet, you have a moment to take in your surroundings, of New York spread out below you.

Dots of people and cars are gathered in awed commotion. They are pointing up while you slowly descend in the air. When the two of you land on the ground, it's so soft you don't even feel it until he sets you down on your tippy toes.

He's tall. Now that you're standing on your feet the height difference is inescapable. His body frame towers you and practically blocks out the sun.

He's clad in dark-blue spandex from head to toe, not an inch of skin bared. There's an emblem of a red and angry looking death-metal spider etched on his chest, and an outline of the same red where his eyes are supposed to be.

You've just been saved by a superhero.

"Tha-thank you," you manage to stutter out.

He lets you go, and doesn't say anything. Doesn't acknowledge your gratitude. Even though you can't see his eyes, you can sense him staring at you.

Did you do something wrong?

It's your first bona fide superhero experience. You don't know what's customary here. Why is he not speaking to you? Why is he just standing there like he's waiting for something. Are you supposed to tip him or something?

Out of nowhere, his hands fling out to grip at your shoulders. You barely have the time to wince, because he's already leaning closer. His masked face is so close that his nose is almost touching yours. Close enough that he'd barely need to tilt to kiss you.

"Uhm... wait I-- "

The mask disintegrates, tanned skin eating into the red and blue material as it reveals his face, and you find his dark eyes staring down at you like he's seen a ghost.

Wait wait! Do Superheroes do this? Can they reveal their face? Aren't they supposed to keep their identities secret.

You blink up at him dumbfounded.

He's handsome. A crown of cotton-soft curls that cascades over his forehead. Cheeks so sharp, you wonder if he uses them as weapons to defeat whatever villain of the week he faces.

He's very handsome. But something is wrong here. There's no smile on his face. He's glaring down at you, his mouth twisted into a snarl as if the sight of you turns his stomach.

"Shit," he growls. "This was a mistake."

You're confused. The gentleness in his voice when he saved you mid-air has been replaced by a sneer. "I should have let you fall."

Without another word, he turns away from you. The mask materializes out of thin air to cover his face. He swoops into the air and then he's gone.

~ Next Issue

Dedications & Credit: Guess who finally had a chance to see the new Spiderman!!!!!!! Dedicated to my poor beloved clown sister @thirstworldproblemss who has been kept up three nights in a row listening to me screech about this movie and then I held her hostage as we outlined this story together.

Without her, writing would never be as fun as it is. I am so grateful to have her as a friend, a confidant and hostage victim.

I don't have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman #marvel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #mcu #oscar isaac #spiderverse

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baby-alien11 · 10 months

Text

hii anon, accidentally posted it first without finish it (just had two lines) so here it goes again, I hope you like it

being pregnant with Ethan's baby

just like the last one, there's no ghostface in this

You and Ethan knew each other due to you being best friend with his sister Quinn

Thanks to that you use to spend a lot of time on the Bailey household

Even if you were there for Quinn, Ethan and you often shared some glances that ended up in the boy with his face red

Soon the glances between each other started to be more flirtatious

Quinn found that gross

When it was time to move to university, the three of you ended up in Balckmore University in New York

Wanting to be roomies, you and Quinn ended up sharing an appartment with the Carpenter sisters, while Ethan went to the dorms ended up being Chad's roomie, which was friend with the sisters

Things continued to be the usual between you and Ethan with the flirtatious glances and some casual touches

Certainly, everyone in the group noticed the sparks between Ethan and you, but Chad was the most annoyed by that

"Dude, you have to move real quick before she finds someone", Chad exclaimed while walking around campus

"She is my sister's best friend", Ethan responded, "Quinn will kill me if she find out I'm hitting on her best friend"

"You're overreacting"

"One time when we were eight years old I accidentally eat her popsicle, and you know what she did? She decapitaded almost all my action figures"

"That's scary, but you still have to try"

Still a little scared, Ethan decided to listen to Chad's advice

So he started to talk to you a little more, which made you happy because you kinda like him

Things continued like that, until the night of a themed frat party came

Of course the theme had to be only underwear

(A/N: the idea came from The Sex Lives of the College Girls, i love that series)

That night you decided to wear a baby blue lace lingerie set with a black robe on top

During the whole night, Ethan and you spend it together talking and sharing drinks, even kissing at some point

Due to being a little drunk, both of you decided to look for a little more intimate space, so without saying anything to the others, the two of you went upstairs finding an empty room

Of course, the inevitable happened, Ethan was no longer a virgin

The next weeks, everything went their normal way, but you and Ethan continue to see each other without Quinn's knowledge

Until you started to feel sick

At first, you thought it was for something you ate during a dinner with the whole friend group

But Quinn had another theory

"Quinn, what is this?", you asked after she threw a pharmacy bag in your bed

"I know for a fact that you aren't sick for the food of the past week", Quinn started, "And that you've been fucking with some mysterious guy for the last weeks, and that your period is late, this bag is full of pregnancy tests"

"Oh my God!", you exclaimed hiding your face on your hands, "Are you serious?"

"Totally", Quinn nodded, "And I won't leave you until you take all of the five test"

Sighing in defeat you took the paper bag to start walking to the shared bathroom, feeling a little nervous because the only person you had sex in the last weeks was Ethan

With Quinn following you, both of you entered the bathroom where after fifteen minutes, the results came

It was positive

"I'm pregnant", you murmured in disbelief

"You're pregnant", Quinn nodded, "Who is the father?"

"You are going to kill me"

"I won't, just tell me"

"Fine, is someone from our group"

"Well, Chad isn't because he's head over heels with Tara, and the other boy is...motherfucker"

In a second, Quinn bursted out of the bathroom in the direction of the living room where the group was, with you following close

"You are the worst brother ever!", Quinn exclaimed scaring everyone, mostly Ethan, "Not only you have been fucking my best friend for weeks, you've got her pregnant! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

After finishing that sentence, everything went silent in the appartment due to the shock of the sudden news, still shocked, Ethan turned to look at you with questioning in his eyes asking if it was real, at what you responded nodding with your head

After half an hour of Quinn chasing Ethan around the appartment with Sam and Chad trying to stop her, and you being consoled by Mindy, Anika and Tara, things calmed down

While the others tried to calm Quinn, you and Ethan locked in your room to talk about the situation, and after an hour of talking both of you decided to keep the baby

Telling the decision to the others was easy because of what happened earlier, Quinn, who was a little upset for all the revelations simply went to lock herself in her room, which made you a little sad because she was your best friend

That same weekend, you and Ethan went to tell his dad the news, arriving at the police station where he worked, both of you waited for a while until Wayne let you go to his office

"So, what do you bring two you here?", Wayne asked organizing some papers, "It's weird not seeing Quinn with you"

"She's kinda mad at us right now", you responded a little nervous

"Don't tell me you are dating?", Wayne asked with enthusiasm, "She shouldn't be mad at that, this is good"

"There's actually more than that", Ethan spoke slightly trembling, "Y/N is pregnant"

Hearing that sentence, Wayne sighed sitting in his chair and covering his face with his hands

"What are you going to do with the baby?", Wayne asked after a few seconds

"We decided to keep it", you answered

"In that case, Ethan you'll start working here with me on the weekends to have money when the baby comes, I'll talk to Quinn later about her attitude, have you told your parents about this?"

"Not yet", you sighed

"You have to do it soon", Wayne said

Because of your parents spend time traveling now that you were in college, the only way to contact them was by a videocall, telling them the news about the pregancy weren't good for them, their response to that, was telling you that they were dissapointed with you and that they didn't wanted to see you again, leaving you with a week to take your things out of their house

After finishing that call, you cried all the afternoon while being held by Ethan in your room

That same weekend, you along with Ethan, Tara, Chad and Mindy went to your house were you packed almost all of your things (and slightly influenced by Tara, you took some of the money your parents kept in their safe box)

One thing that happened during the next week, was that Quinn appeared in your room

"Hi", Quinn greeted standing in your doorway

"Hey", you responded folding some clothes while sitting in your bed

"I heard about your parents, I'm sorry"

"Yeah, they were shitty sometimes, but at least I took some of their money when I went to take my things"

"That was badass", Quinn smiled entering to your room taking a sit in your desk chair, "And I want to say sorry about my reaction when I knew about the pregnancy and your relationship with my brother, it was wrong for me to ignore you for days, like we are best friends and this is such an important moment in your life, and I acted like a bitch, I'm really fucking sorry and I hope you can forgive me for that"

"I agree, you acted like a total bitch, but your reaction was understandable, we should've tell you the moment we started", you said

"So, now that we make things up, can I ask when this whole thing started?"

"Remember that only underwear party, the one you didn't attend because you had a date with the guy from political sciences?"

"He was from law, but yes, I suggested you to wear that cute blue set", Quinn nodded but then she closed her in eyes, "Did you two fuck in that party?"

"Yes", you answered fearing for her reaction

"If you excuse me, I'm going to puck", Quinn said standing up to walk to the door

Now that things were good with your best friend, you were more calmed

While Ethan started to work at the police station with his dad on the weekends, you decided to work from home using some of your graphic design knowledge for some small bussiness

When the second thrimester started, everyone slowly started to bring small things for the baby

Ethan also started to live in the appartment with you so that way he could be with you and the baby

Chad was sad for his roomie leaving

Morning sickness and the vomit were the worst symptomes of all, which leave you sleepy during part of the day

And since you couldn't drink coffee, you started to drink iced chai tea with caramel

So, everyday before college, you and Ethan would go to the college cafeteria for drinks and snacks

And if he couldn't, someone from the group would go with you, even sometimes all the group would go

When the time to know the gender of the baby came, you and Ethan entered the consultory, while Wayne and Quinn waited outside

It was a boy

From the moment everyone knew the gender of the baby, things were started to be bought for the moment the baby came

Quinn was the most excited of all for having a nephew to spoil, and soon that excitement was extended to everyone

Soon, the room that was only yours at first, then shared with Ethan, it was now filled with baby stuff

Also, some parts of the apartment were filled, like the kitchen with the formula and the baby bottles, the living room with some baby entertainment stuff, etc

While sleeping you used a special pregnancy pillow for your comfort, Ethan liked to sleep with his head next to your growing belly and circle your waist while one of your hands were tangled in his curly hair

Entering the third thrimester, things started to be a little chaotic because of the stress of the soon arriving

Most of all, making the apartment baby proof, even if it was to be a new born

Little by little the rest of the group started to move to the apartment, first was Chad with the excuse that he missed his roomie, and then it was Mindy and Anika saying that they wanted to be there in case of a sudden birth

Towards the last two months, Wayne started to spend part of his time in the apartment because he knew the baby will be born soon

At first the friend group was a little scared to have a police detective in their apartment, but after he started to tell embarrasing stories about Quinn and Ethan childhood, everyone was more relaxed

Except them

Honestly, you were relaxed, even if the due date was arriving soon, that's why during the spring break, instead of going to a travel like most of the students would do, the whole group organized a small lunch in the apartment like a late baby shower

"I miss eating sushi", you commented sitting at the table

"Just three more weeks", Mindy said, "After the baby is here you can eat all the sushi you want"

"That sounds beautiful", you exclaimed

"We'll have a sushi marathon", Quinn spoke

"So, my grandchild is arriving soon", Wayne said, "Have you chosen a name?"

"Not yet", Ethan mumbled

That answer left everyone shocked because the baby was arriving in less than a month

"You're kidding", Tara stated

"Actually not", you laughed nervously, "I mean, we've thought of some names, but we haven't decided"

"Dude, the baby is about to come out of you any time now, and you don't have a name yet?", Mindy exclaimed

That small chat sparkled a small discussion between everyone about the lack of the baby's name that lasted for a few minutes until you felt some pain in your belly, causing everyone to stop arguing to look at you

"What's wrong? Are you alright?", Ethan asked with urgency

"I think this are the contractions that the doctor mentioned in the last appointment", you responded taking strongly his arm

Hearing that sentence, caused a comotion in the appartment in which everyone started to panic for a little bit, until Wayne decided to go down and prepare the police car to go to the hospital, while you were coming down to the first floor with Ethan and Chad help, with Quinn behind carring the bag for you and for the baby

Once that you, Ethan and Quinn were in the car, Wayne started the road to the hospital

Thanks to be in a police car with the light and sound on, you were on the hospital in a record time, so they quickly put you in a hospital room to prepare you

During the next hours, you spend it having contractions, sleeping, eating and distracting yourself thanks to the rest of the group who arrived an hour after you

The next day, early in the morning, you started with the labour with Ethan and Quinn by your side while the others stayed outside waiting

For the next two hours, the only things that could be heard were your screams and the instructions from the nurses

"I can see the head", your main doctor exclaimed, "Keep pushing, Y/N, you're doing amazing"

Feeling a little curious, Ethan aproached the space between your legs to see what the doctor said, passing out the moment he saw the scene

"Did he just pass out?", Quinn asked in shock

"Fucking idiot", you murmured watching how some nurses dragged him to a corner

Fortunately, he was awake in a few minutes, but he didn't dare to look at that again

By eleven o'clock, your baby boy was born, and hearing his small cries made you and Ethan cry in happiness, while Quinn just hugged you and messed up with her brothers hair

After they cleaned him, they put him in your chest, noticing some curls in his head

Seeing your baby boy finally in your arms, Ethan and you looked at each other deciding what of the many names that both of you discussed will be, Anthony Bailey

#scream #baby alien creations #baby alien requests #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #scream 6 au #scream franchise #jack champion scream

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wandasfifthwife · 25 days

Text

(7) please, let me stay* | I got a bad idea series

—> masterlist

southern!wandanat x fem!city-girl reader

tw: angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, suggestive content at the very end (sex implied), miscommunication trope?, mentions of homewrecking, r is insecure and overthinks, bit of arguing, conflict is resolved fast though (bc if w&n have to be sharp or else r will go on forever lmao), very small injury (r)

a/n: not proofread so it’ll be fucking shit, but I hope you still enjoy.

The flight back to New York was set to leave after tomorrow. At 8AM you’ll be on the plane heading back with no form of communication with the two. Since ending up in their bed and pressed about their house by their needy bodies, they’ve not seemed to care to ask about your relationship status. It’s not them, you haven’t thought to ask either, but you felt you had reason. It was their relationship first and you barged in.

You felt it was wrong, that you were wrong and unimportant. Their relationship was built on time and trust, and the last few days have told you that yours was built on lust and summer crushes. The guilt tore you from the bottom up, but you left their house one day and didn’t return.

You had one day left and then all of this will have been like it didn’t happen. You can let your feelings fade as the months go by again, maybe even years. These thoughts were the ones you mulled over and felt yourself leaving your family to hide in the bathroom to recover.

It was a fling. Your relationship built over half a month. To say it was love, felt one sided and cheesy. It was teenager puppy love. Another person you let in and fell for too fast.

It was difficult to hide from them as they kept busy. You did too, your grandparents saw you came back and set a list of daily chores. Cleaning the stalls, feeding the livestock, and checking in on their smaller personal garden to pull any weeds. You successfully avoided them this morning, not that it should be considered one going off of how tired you felt.

It was later into the night. The sun having set hours ago and the stars beginning to scatter across the skies. Your grandma sat out in the back. You noticed the top of her head through the window, hair frizzy from the humidity.

She smiled when you came to sit by her. The little candle being the only light, a specific kind that apparently repelled mosquitos.

“Do you like it,” she asks once you’ve settled down into the rocking chair.

“I do, it spells rather nice.”

“No. Running away again.”

You held back the attitude, knowing she wouldn’t let that down for the rest of the night.

You bring your glass up to your lips, “I’m not.”

“Why do you enjoy trashing everything you have? You ran away from here and now you’re running from them,” she sighs, “have they done anything?”

“No.”

“Then why, sweets?”

“Because I’m not welcomed. They have photos lining the walls of their home with the two of them at their wedding. Why ever would I get so selfish to engage with them?”

Your grandma’s face looks sad, eyes downcast as she looks at your side profile.

You saw them pull into the driveway just then, Natasha turning the car off and stepping out, and Wanda walking towards your home. She looked fine, neutral expression as she climbs up the slight slope your grandparents house sat on.

You stepped back inside, setting the glass anywhere on the rush your room. You pitched yourself by the open window.

“Hi Wanda, what brings you over?”

“Is she home tonight.”

You prayed your grandma would be on your side, to make up an excuse to free you.

“She’s just gone to bed.”

Wanda hums, hands in her back pockets as she looks up towards your window, “wanted to invite her over for dinner tomorrow since she’s leaving town soon.”

“Lovely, I’ll tell her in the morning.”

She bids her a goodnight, walking back the way she came. You shivered from where you stood by the window ceil, rubbing your arms to try and stop the goosebumps from forming.

You got your answer. She expressed her care, putting the weight onto you now to respond.

That morning your grandmother retold the information to you, news you already knew. She stared at you long after. You felt it on your back as you walk past her on the couch.

“While you’re out could you make sure the stable doors are shut properly? Those dark clouds are bringing a storm with them, with a storm comes wind.”

You slide your shoes on, sending her a smile to confirm your answer. When you woke up that morning you noticed the room was darker than usual, the sun hiding behind your curtains.

A light shower was settling in around lunch. The rain lightly settling on your clothes, darkening where they landed on your shirt.

You carry the last bucket into the shed, shutting and locking the doors. A sharp pain enters your finger, pressing against the pad of your index. You groan but it sounds more like a cry, peeling your hand away to find a splinter lodged in the skin.

You held your finger in a specific angle so you can see it and grasp it with your other hand to peel it out. The only item with wood you touched was earlier that morning when you heaved a plank into the shed. It wasn’t an asked chore, you just wanted to since it’s been sitting out since the day you arrived, termites beginning to eat away at it.

The splinter stayed in your finger, not notifying you of its presence until you had to use that specific area of your finger. You walked the bucket to the stable, fixing to end the day soon since the sky was beginning to grow darker.

You step into the shed, setting the bucket to the left of you somewhere. The rain carried out above you, the sound providing a relaxing atmosphere within the building. You brush your hand along the horses faces if they were there, avoiding the one towards the end who’s known for snapping.

It was your last day with them. Since you left so early in the morning, you practically only had a few hours left. You’ve been mulling over the situation during your tasks. Your mind wondering as you completed the mundane tasks.

At the moment their house was down the hill. A possible three minute walk. You decided against it, wondering around the building to shut all of the storm doors.

The storm started to pick up. Trees swaying with the motion of the wind, rain turning the dirt into mud. You shut the door, mumbling under your breath about the storm as you walk back for the night. You were cold. The rain covering your body in seconds, making your clothes feel heavy as you walk down the hill, sliding once due to the mud.

You reach your hand to knock, excited to be back in a warm environment. She opens the door, hair wet from a recent shower. Her shampoo smell flaring in front of you, a difference from the past days where it’s been fading.

“I never walk in a storm, let alone wonder in mud,” you start, leaning further under the canopy to hide from the thunder strike.

“You’re very brave, would—“

“No, you don’t understand I’ve never done that.”

“Would you like to tell this heroic story inside,” she asks and leans back to allow space for you.

Wanda shows from the kitchen after hearing the voices in the living room. She looks to your drenched body and asks Natasha to grab towels.

“She could shower and wear ours in the meantime?”

“There’s lightening outside, she can’t shower.”

Natasha looks at her wife like she’s crazy, “you still believe that? She’ll be fine.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she says, wiping her greasy hands on a towel, “how about you dry off with a towel and put on some warmer clothes. I’ll put your wet clothes in our dryer for a minute.”

You thank them, not saying much as you follow Natasha around until you’re left alone in their bathroom. The weight is lifted off you once you’ve taken everything that got drenched in the storm. Their clothes are warm and fresh. It doesn’t distinctly have their smell, you realize it smells more like their laundry detergent, fresh.

The warmer clothes don’t stick to your body, allowing you to relax. You call out to Wanda, handing her the clothes so she can throw them into the dryer.

“I’ll have dinner ready in fifteen, Natasha’s in the office if you’d like to see her.”

You took it as a sign to leave, going from one stuffy environment to the next. You found Natasha sitting at the desk, focus set on the screen in front of her. It felt like the more you stepped inside the more space was set between you. You greet her, voice meek and hoping she didn’t hear you.

“When’s your flight tomorrow.”

“Early morning.”

“How long will you stay in New York?”

“Maybe a year. Maybe a few years.”

She sets her glasses down then, powering down her computer. She moves around with ease, moving to walk down the stairs.

“I don’t know what’ll happen, I haven’t decided—“

“Running away from making decisions doesn’t help you make one.”

“I’m not running away.”

She turns on her heel, “don’t lie to me. I hate liars.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m not running away.”

“Within the whole five minutes you’ve been here you’ve been looking like you’re about to run at any second.”

“And what about that,” your emotions get to you, pitching your voice, “this is the first time I’ve ever stopped trying to ‘run away,’ and you’re focused on how shy I look?”

You hate yourself for how easily you succumb and react to emotions. Tears were present in your eyes, making your vision blurry but not yet making its way on your face. Natasha doesn’t say anything, frozen where she had turned around.

“I know I’m bad at communicating, don’t you think I know that? It’s frustrating how obvious my problem is.“

Natasha calls your name, but you shove her off, “and so what if I was considering leaving and not saying anything? I almost did, and I kind of wish I did. This whole thing was a mistake.”

You look away, wrapping your arms around your body subconsciously to comfort yourself. Tears spilt when she comes closer to pull you into her. You waste no time to wrap your arms around her, crying harder into her shoulder. You mumbled repetitive apologies, every one shushed by Natasha as she tries to calm you down.

You hear Wanda’s footsteps, soft pats getting louder until she’s behind you. Her hand lands on your back, rubbing circles.

“This is why talking is important, thoughts lie and you begin to spiral.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” she draws it out, “not sorry. We want you to feel comfortable talking with us. Hard topics have to be talked about or distance gets placed between people and anger begins to build.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, I said a lot that was out of line.”

You push her off, sitting down on the couch, “it’s okay.”

“I’m going to ask a yes or no question,” Natasha says, her tone almost a whisper, “do you want to stay.”

“Yes.”

Wanda reaches a hand under your chin to tilt your face up so she can press her lips to yours, “missed you.”

She heads back towards the kitchen, asking Natasha to come help her grab the food from the oven; Something about not having any item to take it out with and Natasha was the next best option.

You only barely arise from the couch, thinking Natasha was leaning to kiss you but her lips miss yours.

“I missed you,” her lips are pressing into your neck, just under your ear.

“Missed you in my bed, I wished your fingers were mine at night.”

She laughs, leaving to no doubt tell Wanda what you told her. Wanda sees you enter, leaning back from the oven to kiss whatever was closest to her, “I’m happy you stayed. Don’t forget to cancel your flight.”

Natasha sets the tray onto the stove, rubbing her fingers onto her pants right after. You mumble about not getting a kiss from her and she’s quick to lean closer to quiet your complaining. She’s wiping away the wetness in your cheeks, fingers still warm from the oven.

“Better?”

“Much better,” you smile against her lips.”

masterlist | prev chapter

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makeyoumine69 · 4 months

Text

My Dear Little Girl

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: The Christmas gift you never imagined.

CONTAINS: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, oral sex (f), tongue fucking, nipple play/sucking, body worship, praise kink, manhandling, dirty talk, pet names, marking, biting, established relationships, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman himself.

WORDS: 3.3k

SONG REC: The Neighbourhood - Softcore

A/N: Merry Christmas guys, I'm so happy to have you all! 💞

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]

There has always been something magical about Christmas, the holiday atmosphere, the sweet smell of tangerines and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yes, all of this became a standard set of things that people thought of when it came to Christmas. And you were probably one of those who believed in miracles that could happen during this magical time. At least you tried to believe it, but when Bateman told you that he had to go to his company Christmas party tonight, that actually brought you back down to Earth, because sometimes our expectations simply didn't match up with reality. And that was absolutely fine — those were the exact words you told Patrick when he called you a few hours ago, before he actually went to that party.

Everything was fine.

You repeated this over and over again as you walked around your apartment in Manhattan, which was not as spacious as Bateman's, but you really loved it, especially now, with the beautiful Christmas tree that shone brightly with different illuminations when you turned off the lights. Since you knew Patrick wasn't coming, there was no point in waiting to open the bottle of the finest red wine he'd given you especially for this Christmas Eve. Sighing, you poured yourself a big glass of the red liquid, took some sweets and went back to your living room, where you stood at the wide window and looked at the breathtaking scenery of New York City in winter — this year it was quite snowy, which could not make you happy, even though you were going to spend this evening alone.

As the fireworks began to paint the midnight sky in ornaments of different shapes and colors, you couldn't take your eyes off this sight, as you were absolutely mesmerized. At first, you didn't even hear the doorbell ring, and only when it rang for the tenth time in a row did you realize that someone was at your front door, which actually scared you a bit because it was already quite late.

Your steady footsteps echoed off the walls of your hallway as you finally reached the door and looked through the peephole - the person you saw almost made you drop your glass to the floor. Damn, you should have left it in the living room.

Before you slowly opened the door, you coughed several times to clear your throat, and you also quickly fixed your hair — although your whole appearance could hardly be called fancy or party-like, as you wore your casual top and shorts set — the moment you and Bateman saw each other, you both remained silent, as if you were seeing each other for the first time.

"Well, hello (y/n)," he was the first to speak, with his absolutely haughty smile that always left you no choice but to be embarrassed. "I thought you were out walking somewhere."

"At this time?"

Patrick grinned even wider before glancing to the right, where a small commotion could be heard. "Some people here are already celebrating, you know."

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside to let him enter. "What happened to the Christmas party?"

Your question made the man chuckle as he brushed some snow from his shoulders before taking off his beautiful dark blue coat. "Actually — nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's exactly what I said." Patrick crooned and came closer to you, pressing his cold palm against your cheek, making you squirm and almost spilling wine on your shirt. "Uhh, you have such warm cheeks, honey."

"Okay, I'll ask it another way," you managed to regain your composure, even though Bateman seemed to be doing his best to make you lose your cool. "Why are you here?"

Pulling his hand away from your face, Bateman narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms after checking the time on his Rolex. "Were you expecting someone else?"

And now his voice sounded as grumpy as if he was seriously asking that question, but instead of defending yourself, you just chuckled and took a sip of your drink.

"Oh yes, I was expecting a handsome man so we could drink this wonderful wine and... talk about music, the meaning of life and whether or not true love exists." You chirped quickly before taking his hand and dragging him into your living room before this conversation could lose its jokey undertone.

"That was," Bateman stammered when he finally realized what drink you were holding. "That was very smart. Have you ever thought of applying to a Broadway theater? I think they would love to offer you a job." His statement made you stop and turn to give him a deadly stare. "What? If you don't like theater, you can always try your luck in the circus."

"Patrick!" You scolded, fighting the urge to throw your drink right in his cheeky face. "You were the one who told me I would be alone today! And you didn't even suggest that I go with you!"

Having said that, you continued on your way to the living room, but without holding Patrick's hand as you left the man behind, though his expression was still as bright as the New York sky inscribed with fireworks. "Wait a minute, honey," Bateman muttered, following you. "You made it pretty clear that you don't want to go to parties like that, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," you lied, bursting into a soft laugh, swirling the glass in your hand. "Oh, this wine tastes amazing, by the way. Would you like to try some?"

The sudden change of subject just made him smile cheekily, and before he could answer, Bateman tucked his hands into the pockets of his Amrani pants and leaned against the door to your living room. "I know this wine is good, that's why I gave it to you, sweetheart," his brilliant, full-toothed smile made your heartbeat faster and for a moment you even forgot what you were doing. "But yes, I would definitely have a drink."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Grinch." You mumbled playfully and went to the kitchen.

Fireworks began to explode just as you opened the shelf to grab a glass for him, thanking God you managed to hold it in your hand. The loud sound coming from the outside drowned out the approaching footsteps behind you, so when a pair of strong, big arms wrapped around your waist, you didn't even have time to get scared, you just gasped and fell right into Patrick's tight embrace.

"I got you," he whispered in your ear, sucking on your lobe tenderly, but with an undisguised desire for something more intimate. "You little liar." Bateman pulled you closer with a possessive grip as his hand carefully found its way to yours to take the glass and place it on the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. "We don't want any trouble, do we?"

Panting, you turned halfway to look up into his brown, mesmerizing eyes. "Patrick," you let him nuzzle your cheek, his perfect nose brushing against yours, and then Bateman kissed you softly on your plump lips. "Mmhm, I'm so glad you came, I've missed you and —"

"Shhh," he silenced you with his thumb, his glowing gaze never leaving your beautiful face. "I know, darling," another sensual kiss was planted on your neck this time, eliciting a muffled moan from your half-open mouth. "You don't have to say anything else, just relax..." Patrick nipped at your throat more eagerly, leaving marks here and there, while his hands drew invisible ornaments all along your inviting little form. "...and let me take care of you."

Dear Lord, it was impossible to think clearly, not when he was talking to you like that and his hot lips were caressing that exact spot behind your ear, driving you absolutely crazy and you didn't even notice the way your hips were grinding against his hard groin, spurring him on to go even further. Groaning softly into your ear, Bateman couldn't wait any longer, his pants getting too tight with every brush of your ass against his throbbing length.

"Fuck, babe, you're so gorgeous," he purred in a low voice, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your shoulder, then moving lower to your shoulder blade, pulling up your top to taste your skin. "Do you know what I was thinking about during the party?" Bateman asked suddenly, tugging at the lace of your shorts, tantalizing you with his intentions.

"N-no, tell me," you closed your eyes from the intoxicating pleasure of his thin fingers darting across your belly, but when they finally reached your heated core, you couldn't keep a loud whimper from breaking out of your dry lips. "Please, a-ahhh, tell me everything."

"Uh, look at you," he quickly licked the back of your neck before grabbing a handful of your soaked pussy. "Such a curious little kitty," Patrick huffed, suddenly pulling down your shorts with your wet panties, leaving you no chance to even react, not to mention struggling. "I was thinking about you," Bateman carefully lifted one of your legs to rest it on the kitchen counter, then crouched down behind you, leaving a sloppy kiss on your lower back. "About fucking you senseless, to be exact."

"Oh my God," you mewled, clinging to the surface of the counter as you felt his hot breath between your legs. "I was... I was thinking about that too."

Smirking to himself, Bateman gave your ass a few firm squeezes before finally touching you where you wanted him most, his warm tongue feeling so fucking amazing on your swollen clit. "Oh, that's interesting," he cooed to you, enjoying the way your body reacted to his every move, it was always amusing and turned him on, the knowledge of having such power over you was enough to make him rock hard. "Looks like you're just pretending to be shy. Now spread these beautiful legs wider for me," as you did so he used both hands to massage your buttocks before sliding his digits along your tight lower lips to get better access to your wet entrance. "Good girl, so fucking good for me."

With that, he plunged his tongue into your tight hole, trapping you in place as you jerked in his grasp from the intense sensation in your lower abdomen, but that was only the beginning as the next moment, Bateman returned his assault on your little bud, rubbing it in intense circular motions.

"A-awwww, Patrick," your sweet voice was music to his ears, especially when he made you do those high-pitched wails, each time his tongue sank deeper into your soft, inner channel. "Please...that feels so..."

"Good?" he chuckled before peppering your dripping slit with little kisses. "Jesus, you're so yummy, mmmh," Patrick lapped at your pussy like a starved man, gripping your ass tightly to remind you who was in charge here. "I'd like to stay between these legs forever if I could."

By the time he was done eating you out, you could barely breathe as you balanced on the edge of falling into the oblivion of pure ecstasy, his chiseled face covered in your sweet flavor, which he immediately cleaned up with his tongue.

"Patrick, it felt so damn amazing..." you whimpered and turned around to see him undoing his expensive suit, his red tie already loosened, making him look even sexier, if it was possible to be hotter than he was. "Please."

With a sassy grin, Bateman unbuttoned his blue shirt, revealing an absolutely mouth-watering view of his sculpted chest and perfect abs. "Please what, honey?" He cupped your face before pulling you into a ravenous kiss, his tongue swirling shamelessly around yours, making you moan at how heavenly he kissed you. "Use your words, make me proud of how bold you are."

A brisk unzipping sound hit you like a whip, giving you a strange feeling of liberation and excitement. "I want you, all of you. Whatever you will give me, I'll take gladly."

You could see his nostrils flaring with each word, as if you were a moth to a flame. Biting his lower lip, the man came closer just to pick you up as if you weighed nothing, and he walked into your bedroom, where the beautiful garlands on the window shone with all the colors of the rainbow, making the whole atmosphere truly magical, especially with the lights off.

Bateman didn't like it at first, but when he saw your childishly happy face, he gently placed you on the bed, towering over you like a mountain. "Lovely here."

"You like it?" Your question forced him to frown in irritation, but he just pecked your temple and shamelessly removed your top, leaving you completely bare before his hungry eyes. "I spent a lot of time decorating it."

Smiling ironically, Patrick placed a reassuring kiss on your temple before he removed the last of his clothes and you finally felt his soft skin against yours, you couldn't help but hook your hands and legs around him like a vine. "I like it." Of course, he didn't, you knew that, but it didn't matter because now you two belonged to each other, both physically and mentally. "C'mere, babygirl," Bateman suddenly sat down on the bed and invited you to get on top of him. "Today we're going to try something new. Do you trust me?"

Breathing heavily, you nodded, and the next thing you knew his thick cock was sliding along your wet folds as he held you tightly by your waist, manhandling you with such ease as if you were a feather. With a longing growl, the man pressed you closer to his strong body so he could graze your collarbone and play with your engorged nipples as he literally buried his face between your breasts, squeezing them with both hands.

"Mhhm, Patty!" You moaned as he sucked on two of your little peaks at once, his leaky tip already prodding at your dripping opening as Patrick decided to test the patience of both of you. "Please, oh-please, fuck me, please, fuck...fuck me!"

Bateman snickered against your neck, sending little tickles that made you smile, and he couldn't stop himself from squeezing your cheeks as you looked so fucking cute and sinful right now. "Uh, I'll give you more than that."

After that, he carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and slowly lowered you down onto his beefy dick, the second your bodies finally connected, you both let out loud moans and held each other tighter as if your lives depended on it.

"Mmhm-fuck," the man had to close his eyes from the way your pussy was clinging to his huge cock, encompassing it so tightly that you both saw stars as Patrick supported your bobbing movements, holding your hips in his big palms and rocking his own towards yours. "You feel...f-fucking amazing!"

"I love you, I love you, Patty!" you cried out desperately, looping your hands around his neck to pull him closer as your bodies intertwined like snakes, each move bringing so much pleasure as he could fuck you so deeply and lustfully in this position. "Please, c-cum inside me!"

Your words made his eyes open wide and then you heard a low, guttural growl as Bateman suddenly pushed you down, forcing you to lie on your back and lift your legs to press them against his broad chest as he began to pound harder, rolling his hips to stimulate your G-spot.

"Is that what my dear girl wants, huh?" The man asked, mesmerized by the sight of your bouncing breasts, the lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling your bedroom, making you scream shamelessly in pure bliss as his swollen tip brushed relentlessly against your cervix, stimulating you in a way that could bring you to climax without even touching your clit. "'C'mon honey, milk my dick and I'll give you my cum." In addition to his dirty talk, Patrick pecked your ankle as gently as he could — on the verge of a frenzy, he could just ravish you until you couldn't move, but right now he was trying his best to focus on your release. "Do it for me, sweetheart, cum around my dick like a good girl!"

Creasing the sheets, you threw your head back onto the pillows from the pulsating sensation in your lower body. "Pat-Patty! A-aaahhh—" You choked on your own moan, writhing erratically around the bed, and only his strong arms managed to hold you in place as Bateman was aware that you were about to fall off the fucking bed.

"That's it, mhm," Patrick watched you attentively, relishing the way your eyebrows knit together from how hard you cum on his fat dick, your eyes closed and your lips frozen in a silent moan. "So fucking gorgeous, so fucking...mm-so fucking tight, fuck!"

Bateman shifted his position again, covering you from above, transferring his weight to his sturdy arms as he rammed into you like a jackhammer, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against your cunt in the obscenest way possible. And then the man finally collapsed inside you, painting your velvety walls white, pinning you down with his huge frame and biting your shoulder like an animal claiming its prey. You couldn't move and you were barely breathing, but you took him completely, until his hot liquid began to flow from your ruined pussy, flooding the sheets beneath you. Spent and exhausted, Patrick kissed and licked the mark he had just left before pressing his forehead against yours, holding you tightly in his arms and you knew he would never let you go as you were born to be his.

Moments later, you were standing next to the Christmas tree in your living room, Bateman sitting on the small couch, finally having his drink, but not wine as he managed to find some whiskey in your minibar.

"Next time, let's put a Christmas tree in your apartment!" You suddenly blurted out, clapping your hands.

"No, don't even think about it, kitten," Patrick almost choked on his drink and coughed several times. "Oh, honey, don't make that face."

Damn, although you knew that Bateman didn't like all that stuff, it made you sad anyway, so the man had no choice but to comfort you here and now, before the situation got worse.

After putting the glass on the nearby coffee table, he stood up and approached you from behind, hugging you, but you were still pouting. "Listen," he whispered into your ear. "I have something for you, something special that will make you forget everything."

"What is it?"

Thrilled, Patrick slipped into the pocket of his robe, which he had brought especially to your place because he couldn't stand any other robes but his own, and took out a small, velvety box. "And what do you think it is?"

As soon as you turned around and saw this little box, something in your mind flashed like fireworks. "Oh my God, Patrick..." you covered your face in your hands from shock. "Is that..."

Bateman opened the box in one swift motion, revealing a magnificent ring that shone brightly, reflecting the illumination of the Christmas tree. "I want us to meet next Christmas in a different status," he murmured, taking the ring in his hand. "You know what I mean?" Tears welled in your eyes as you couldn't believe this was happening. "Will you be my wife, (y/n)?"

At first, you couldn't say anything because you were shocked, but then you managed to whisper. "Yes, yes, of course I will," and then you snuggled into his warm embrace, allowing him to put the ring on your finger and kiss your forehead, and this kiss was different because now you were his fiancée. "I love you, I love you so much!"

With a bright grin on his flawless face, Patrick rested his chin on the top of your head and stroked your hair. "Merry Christmas, my dear little girl. I love you too."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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blissfulbarbie · 6 months

Text

I Hope You're Happy / Joel Miller x Reader

Description: Joel breaks up with you, thinking that he's setting you free to chase your dreams. And you do. And he gets another girl pregnant. And you meet each other in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. And you hope the other is happy. But you're not. You're both not.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Angst angst angst. No outbreak AU.

Deep down, you knew this day would come. What did you expect, dating someone 10 years older than you? You just didn’t think it would come this soon. Or that it would hurt this much.

As you sat there in the dimly lit living room, the weight of Joel's words hung heavily in the air. It had been a typical evening, sharing a meal and telling each other about your day, but something felt different tonight. The air seemed heavy with tension and Joel’s smiles didn’t really reach his eyes, betraying an inner turmoil that you hadn't seen before.

"Listen," he began, his voice tinged with regret, "I’ve been thinking a lot about something."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach as you nodded, prompting him to continue.

Joel stared at the floor, avoiding your gaze. "I love you. So much. More than I ever thought I could love someone. But, I can't keep pretending that I can give you everything you deserve. I'm 35, and I've lived a life that's... complicated. I don't want to tie you down, especially when you have so much of the world left to explore."

You tried to understand his perspective. Tried to see where he was coming from but all you could think was, Why now? Why now when I’ve already fallen in love with you?

"I don't want you to look back one day and regret being with me," he continued, his voice gentle as he clasps both of your hands in his. "I couldn’t live with myself if one day you look at me and all I’d see is regret in your eyes. I want you to experience the world, to find your own path. I know you'll go on to do amazing things, and I don't want to be the reason you didn't." His eyes glimmered with tears.

“And what about what I want?” You stared back at him, defiant. “What if I want to be here with you?”

He smiled softly and shook his head. “You know, I could be selfish and keep you here with me. But what can you achieve in this town, really? You had such big dreams when we met, remember? Don’t think I forgot.”

He was right. You passed on a few big job opportunities in New York when you settled down with Joel, and you kept telling yourself you’d apply next week, which became next month, next year, until it never happened. Suddenly a fancy job and new apartment in the Big Apple didn’t seem appealing anymore. Not when you had Joel.

“Dreams change.” was all you managed to get out before your throat started to tighten and you felt the prickling of tears in your eyes.

Joel pulled you in for a hug and buried his face in your shoulder. “Don’t change them for me. Never for me.”

Deep down, you knew you had to go. Not because you wanted to, but because you knew Joel would never forgive himself if you didn’t. It was ironic and so painfully stupid that it hurt - he thought this breakup would help you and you went through with it to help him.

So there you went. You packed your bags and you were out of there in less than a week. You moved in with a friend in New York for a couple of months until you secured a stable job and an apartment. You followed Joel's advice, exploring the world, pursuing your dreams, and building a life that was uniquely your own. You missed him more than you cared to admit, but you knew that his intentions had been pure, and in a way, it did benefit you.

You have proper savings now, and you are a fully independent adult, carving your way painfully through a year of hard work, job searches, apartment hunting - all while navigating a broken heart. And while you love your new life, late at night in the dark of your fancy new apartment overlooking the city skyline, you often found yourself thinking, was it all worth it?

But you shake your head out of the daze eventually. Because if it isn’t worth it then all the pain and all the tears were for nothing. So you had to love this life. Forced yourself to love it because that’s what Joel wanted for you. Joel. Even now, you still live for Joel.

Until you didn’t. Your fingers freeze on your phone as you read the caption on Cassie’s new instagram post with a man who looks all too familiar.

Excited to welcome a new chapter into our lives. 👶❤️

Your stomach sinks. Your phone drops to the bed. And tears sting your eyes. No. It can’t be. You pick up the phone again and there he is. Your Joel, messy hair as if he just rolled out of bed and his scruffy beard. Smiling at Cassie who’s holding a picture of an ultrasound. CASSIE? And JOEL?

You try to think back to every interaction they had during the course of your relationship but it had never been more than polite small talk at neighbourhood gatherings or run-ins at the grocery store. Wasn’t she married? Fuck this. You double tap the picture, giving it a “like”. This will give them something to talk about, you think spitefully. He wanted me to move on with my life? Well this is me, moved on. As you throw your phone to the other side of the bed, the pain finally sinks in and you cry into your pillow, wondering if you truly, will ever move on.

In the years that pass, you try to distract yourself with work and your new friendships. On paper, your life in New York was going swimmingly well and you had even dated a couple of nice guys. Dating still gives you a little twinge in the heart but you ignore it for the most part. People would kill for the life you have and you will NOT be ungrateful about it.

But of course, life is never that simple. Just when you think you’re able to find happiness, you get thrown a curveball. And this curveball came in the form of Joel Miller, standing in the cereal aisle of your local grocery store. He’s older, grayer, but damn him, he still looks so fucking good. You stand there staring for a moment, while he examines the box of Cap’n Crunch. As he puts the box back down and glances up, he meets your eyes and you hate this cliche, but you swear to God, time stands still.

He whispers your name, almost in disbelief as his brows furrow. “Hey. Wow.”

“Hey.”

“You… How are you?”

“I’m good. Yourself?”

“Yeah great.”

Somehow this exchange cuts you deeper than the day he broke up with you. When did you become people who could barely speak 3 words to each other?

Trying to alleviate the clenching of your heart, you speak up. “What are you doing here? This is the last place I thought I’d ever run into you.”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I uh.. Tommy’s up here meeting a couple of friends and asked me to tag along. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out by the way, I should have texted when I knew we were heading –”

You cut him off, not wanting to hear lies. “No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to. You must be busy now anyways with the kid.”

His eyes soften at that, guilt and pain flashing through them but you push on. “It’s fine, really. You’re not obligated to tell me these things. I just saw on Cassie’s instagram. Is she here too?”

At that, he visibly stiffens and clears his throat as he replies, “Oh, Cassie and I aren’t together anymore. Well we were never.. But we kind of.. Yeah she’s not in the picture. It’s just me and Sarah.”

Sarah. He had a girl. A little girl. Your stomach twists and you kind of feel like throwing up so you try to find an exit. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, Sarah is lucky to have you. I always knew you’d make a good dad.”

He smiles for the first time in this conversation. “Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m doing half the time but she’s a good kid.”

Enough. Enough. Enough. “Well, it was nice meeting you again Joel, and I’m glad you’re doing well–”

“No, wait. Can we talk, please? I.. I’ve missed you. I want to talk.” Joel steps towards you as if to stop you from leaving but then holds himself back.

“I don’t think we have anything much to say to each other anymore, Joel, don’t you think?” You chuckle a little to mask the overwhelming urge to cry.

“I just want to know how you’re doing.” He looks at the ground, like a puppy scolded by his owner and you know you can’t resist the floodgates that pour out. You take a deep breath and let it all out in one exhale.

“Fine. You want to know? I’m doing great, just as you said I would. I make a ridiculous amount of money every year, I have a fancy apartment that overlooks the city, I have nice friends and a good life. It’s everything you wanted for me.”

“You deserve it. I knew you would.” He says, nodding with a sad smile.

“So why don’t I feel happy yet?” You can’t believe it but you actually start to cry. Here in the middle of the damn cereal aisle in front of your ex-boyfriend.

He stands stunned for a moment, his eyes concerned and brows furrowed. He eventually steps fully in front of you this time. His hands hesitate, as if he doesn't know where to put them, until he settles for your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I thought.. I thought you would be–”

You bat his hands off your shoulders. “Yeah, you did. But it doesn’t matter because what’s done is done and we’ll never get it back. Any of it.”

He says your name, pleadingly.

“No, I don’t blame you. I left, didn't I? It was my decision too. I guess deep down some part of me thought I would be better off. And in a way I am. I really am. But I cannot lie to you and say that I’m happy Joel, because I’m not. And nothing will change that. Because this is my life now.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as the weight of the years of separation hangs there. “I’m not either,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I’m not.. happy. Cassie and I had a fling when I was heartbroken and dealing with our breakup. She had just gotten divorced and I was.. I was planning to ask for you back. I was prepared to get on a fucking airplane and beg on my knees until you took me back. Whether that meant moving you back home or me moving here, it didn’t matter to me. We’d make it work. I just wanted you to know that I made a mistake and I shouldn’t have decided for you.” He places his hands on your shoulders again, and you let them stay this time.

He continues, speaking quickly as if a dam has burst. “But then Cassie got pregnant. And I knew I had to make a choice. We said we’d try to raise the kid together and be a family but.. A few months after Sarah was born she just left. Literally, took off and left, and I have no idea where she went. Frankly, I don’t even care. And then I got so busy with the kid and then years passed, and I just lost the timing. What, am I just supposed to call you up 10 years after breaking up with you, telling you what a joke my life has become? How I’ve regretted every moment since you packed your bags?”

You let all of his words sink in for a while before choking out, “And what do I do with all this information now? What do you expect me to do?”

He’s tearing up and his voice rises a little as he replies, “Nothing. I don’t expect nothing. I just needed you to know that I never spent a day without thinking of you or loving you. And that I’m sorry. And that I wish you were happy, because if you were, then at least all of this bullshit would be worth it. But you’re not.”

You nod, your brain not fully able to come up with words at this point, so he continues. “If you’d told me you were happy, I would have swallowed my pride, wished you well, and walked out of this store with the knowledge that at least all this pain has finally brought you joy. But we’re both hurting now, so what does that make us?”

“Two idiots crying in the cereal aisle?” You offer with a small chuckle through your tears.

He breathes out a small laugh. “Yeah. That it does.”

A woman passing through the aisle snaps you both back to reality as you wipe your tears and gather yourselves. “It is really good to see you, Joel. And.. thank you for telling me all of it. It doesn’t change anything but I think I needed to hear it.”

He shakes his head before looking into your eyes. “You know what the sick part is? 10 years ago I told you I never wanted you to look at me with regret in your eyes. Yet here you are.”

You nod and smile sadly. There’s nothing left to say.

His gaze turns soft. “I hope you’ll be happy someday. Maybe not now, but someday.”

“Maybe. And yourself?”

“Maybe.” He replies cheekily, smiling softly. With that, he pulls you in for a hug and the familiar waft of his cologne transports you back to 10 years ago when you hugged in his living room before saying goodbye, when you used to cuddle together so close at night, when he used to hug you before leaving for work. Your memories together flash before your eyes like a sick Hallmark movie except this time you know the ending.

You feel the press of his lips against your head and you swear you hear him whisper the words “I love you” but you can’t be sure because your heart is pounding and you can feel it in your ears. Your life from this point on will always be divided into before and after. The point where you know, you just know, the choice you made is irreversible. You will never have Joel Miller ever again.

As you pull away, you both tearfully smile and look at each other for the last time. You spend a good minute just looking, memorizing the other’s face. You both don’t bother with the polite pleasantries of promising to keep in touch because you know that would be a lie. It would be too painful. This is your fate now.

You walk past each other, leaving your memories and feelings behind in the dust of your footprints. To passersby, you look like strangers. Passing each other in the cereal aisle, meeting for a moment and then never again. And maybe that’s what you are now. Strangers, destined to be in each other’s lives for a moment, and then never again.

Joel eventually goes back home to Austin, and you stay in your beautiful apartment which seems to be mocking you with how big and yet empty it feels.

Joel looks at his daughter and wonders what it would be like if this kid was yours, and you stare at your phone, a message from your new date asking you to confirm a meeting time flashing on your screen.

Joel wonders what life would be like if you’d stayed. You wonder the same thing.

Tag list: @just-some-random-blogger @joeldjarin @pattwtf

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 6 months

Text

Claimed

Summary: While on the run from raiders and their twisted game of hide and seek you get saved in the last minute by a creature you only thought existed in books. You knew you should be scared, yet you could not find it in you as you looked into the warm brown eyes of a wolf that seemed way too human to be a monster, letting him have you and your body, letting him claim you. Waking up in a cabin the next morning you think it was all a dream, wanting to move on until Tommy and Joel Miller find you in that cabin, offering you to stay in a town called Jackson.

Pairing: Werewolf! Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 5.4k

Warnings: monster fucking (dub con -> enthusiastic consent; basically she's really into it once she's awake) angst, threats of SA, violence, death, smut (Somnophilia; oral sex f receiving; unprotected sex, knotting, cumplay), successful breeding, so much guilt, fluff, Joel is bad at feelings

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You were cold. Cold and hungry. Exhausted and, most of all, scared.

You didn’t know exactly how long you had been running. The four men pursuing you had found you and your group a day (or three?) before, had killed everyone except for you, telling you to run for your life after stripping you of most of your clothes.

Like some sick fucking game.

Then again, ever since the outbreak, everything seemed to be a game of life and death. It wasn’t long until humanity showed its ugly face, and (mostly) men lived out their sick, primitive fantasies without the fear of any kind of punishment.

You could hear them outside, laughing and snickering, fantasising about the sick things they would do to you if they found you. How they would decide if you were allowed to stay alive and become their pet, or if they would kill you.

The sun had set hours ago, the only light source outside the full moon high on the cloudless sky. You were hiding under a trapdoor in a barn that looked like it might collapse the next time it rained. Though if you had to guess, you think it’d snow before it rained.

It had to be November by now, Wyoming cooling down to a fucking freezer overnight, your teeth clattering as you shivered.

They had only left you in your shoes and underwear. You had picked up an old jacket as you ran into an abandoned cabin the day before. Then you found a thin blanket that you currently had wrapped around your cold legs, the smell coming from it making it hard to breathe without feeling nauseous.

Your fingers were wrapped around a rusty piece of metal you had found down here, not really knowing if you’d use it on the raiders or yourself before they got their hands on you.

Though the thought crossed your mind that you being dead probably wouldn’t stop them from…

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. In your head, you hummed the lullaby your mother used to sing to you whenever you felt anxious as you were growing up.

You didn’t dream of seeing her again one day anymore. You buried that hope after twenty years of whatever life you had lived since the outbreak. You liked to imagine she had a quick death once things started going downhill. You had been on vacation with your best friend in New York City when it all happened. You still had no idea how you made it out of there alive.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” one of the men mocked you, his voice way too close for comfort. You wrapped a hand over your mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible in hopes he would just move on and leave you here to… probably die from hypothermia. Still a better death than what they had planned.

You heard the footsteps getting closer before there was an earth-shattering scream outside, followed by growling.

“What the fuck is going on there? Did the bitch cut your balls off, Clark?” The men who must be standing right above you right now yelled outside. There was a roar followed by a howl outside, and you closed your eyes.

“Clark? Will?” The man above you called out, but there was no answer.

“You better not be fucking with me, you assholes,” he said, his footsteps moving away from you. You allowed yourself to release a shuddering breath, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

Another scream outside, followed by a loud howl, before there was only silence.

Minutes went by, and you were pretty sure whatever was out there had probably killed the men that were after you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to risk getting out of your hiding spot to seek shelter somewhere else. Or find another blanket.

You had no idea how to survive out here on your own. You hadn’t eaten in two days, only barely found something to drink while running.

Maybe whatever was out there would make your death quick, and you could rest. The thought of getting a good night’s sleep made you sigh as you felt your mind slowly slip into darkness.

Yet before you could let your mind rest, the trapdoor above you was ripped open, and you jumped, suddenly blinded by how bright the moon illuminated the night. You blinked against the sudden light, gasping when you found a creature looking down at you, big brown eyes fixated on you.

It was standing on two legs, fur covering the whole body, the teeth sharp, reflecting the moonlight.

It looked like a wolf. A huge fucking wolf, yet there was something human about it.

You should have been scared, you should have been screaming, but somehow you didn’t, overcome with the feeling of being safe the longer you looked into its eyes.

“You’re so pretty,“ you mumbled. “Are you here to kill me?“

The creature’s eyes widened before his massive head shook from side to side, as if saying no. You smiled softly at that.

“You’re a good doggy,” you sighed, your eyes slipping closed. And you could swear the last thing you heard was an amused roar before your mind slipped into unconsciousness.

You felt…. Warm.

You didn’t know the last time you felt warm, which left you to the conclusion that you must have died.

You were lying on something soft, surrounded by warmth.

A satisfied moan slipped through your lips in the next moment, still half asleep, and you felt your body shuddering. Your hands ran over your body, your fingers slipping down your stomach before your eyes opened slowly, looking down just in time to see why you woke up, your pussy throbbing as an orgasm rushed through your body, making you arch your back and cry out as you looked between your thighs to find big brown eyes looking up at you.

You thought you dreamed the wolf you remembered saving you before, but it was him.

“You’re… You’re real…“ you whispered, your hand hesitantly reaching out, your fingers meeting the soft fur of the animal between your legs. It was real. He was real. The wolf was real, and he was here, and he was…

The wolf seemed to lean into your touch, his eyes seemingly trying to communicate with you, his expression torn before he growled, his eyes closing.

“Oh shit,“ you whispered, slowly noticing that you were stripped completely naked, big strong and furry arms wrapped around your thighs, keep you lying on the mattress beneath you.

You should be scared, you know you should. Yet you weren’t. Instead, you felt the safest you ever did. The big nose of the wolf nuzzled against your pussy, and you moaned quietly, your chest heaving as you took a deep breath.

You should fight, run, scream, yet you wanted more.

You wanted this creature to own you, to claim you. To be his. It seemed like the only thought in your mind the longer you looked into its eyes.

The wolf kept his dark eyes on yours, his cold nose nuzzling against your pussy until you felt his big tongue lick through your slit.

“Oh fuck,“ you let yourself fall back down against the ground, the hand that had been touching the wolf coming up to your breast, squeezing it, playing with your nipple, noticing something… sticky on your chest. Bringing your fingers up, looking at them and the creamy substance on your fingers, your eyes found the wolf, finding him watching you intently.

The long warm tongue kept licking you almost softly, the wet nose rubbing over your clit.

Keeping your eyes on his, you brought your fingers to your mouth, your tongue darting out to taste it. The wolf growled, his eyes seemingly getting even darker as you tasted what you thought was his cum. You hummed, licking your fingers clean, the wolf’s tongue moving faster, making your legs twitch.

His big claws dug warningly into the soft skin of your thighs, before his tongue forced its way inside your pussy.

Your lips parted as you cried out in ecstasy, the feeling foreign yet so fucking good as the big tongue of the wolf moved inside of you.

Biting your lips, you tried to keep quiet, panting for air as his tongue brushed over something inside of you that made you cry out in pleasure.

“There… Fuck… Right there,“ you whined, trying to move your hips under his grip, but he growled, his tongue fixated on that one spot inside of you until you moaned loudly, your whole body shaking as you came hard, soaking the wolf between your legs as you squirted for the first time in your life.

With your chest heaving, you slumped back against the mattress, panting as you tried to process what just happened.

The wolf licked you clean softly before his claws let go of your thighs. You opened your eyes, watching him when you felt his tongue licked over your upper thigh, only noticing now that one of his claws must have nabbed your skin, drawing a tiny bit of blood he licked off.

You were watching him, your eyes widening as the wolf slowly got on his feet, towering above you in his full height.

He was breathtaking. Literally.

Your eyes dropped to his cock, leaking with pre cum and standing proudly against his stomach.

It was… definitely not human.

It was dark red, at least 9 inches long. You probably could not close your fist around it, the girth was too big. But it was the knot that made you suck in your bottom lip, worrying.

He was breathing deeply, his eyes fixed on your form, almost pleading to you, but you did not know for what.

“It’s… It’s okay,“ you whispered, slowly sitting yourself up. It was almost like the wolf was shaking his head.

“It’s okay. Take what you want.“

The moment those words slipped out of your mouth, Joel knew he had lost the last bit of control he had over his actions. He got on all fours, his face hovering over you and your beautiful eyes.

You didn’t know the inner fight he had put on for hours since bringing you here.

Joel was a man who always made more than sure that whatever he did with the person he was with, they were giving him enthusiastic consent before he touched them.

But right now, Joel wasn’t a man.

He was a creature of the night, his instincts reduced to his animalistic primal needs.

He had made you cum twice before you even woke up, high on your taste, wanting more and more. Fuck he had even jerked off, shooting his cum all over your body like the animal he was.

He’d never fucked anyone in this form before, and while a part of him hated the lack of control he had over how he behaved right now, another part was ready to be inside of you.

“Mhhh….“ he heard you hum, your fingers stroking through his fur, and Joel was sure he’d purr if you continued to touch him.

But his cock was aching, and you were oh so soft and wet.

And ready to breed.

He leaned down, his nose nuzzling against your neck, inhaling you deeply before he looked deep into your eyes, ready to take what was his.

The wolf began to lick your upper body, focusing on your breasts, making you whimper, your fingers pulling on the fur of his arms. Slowly you let your hand slip down your body, your eyes widening when you came in contact with his cock, gasping softly.

The wolf looked up at you, grunting as you tried to wrap your hand around it, your hand too small.

You felt the wolf lick your cheek, and you looked up at him, wondering what he was thinking.

Taking a deep breath, you laid back, parting your legs for him even wider.

The wolf was actively looking between your pussy and his claws, and you wondered if the man inside him would be putting his fingers inside of you if he was able to. He closed his eyes as you guided his cock towards your pussy.

“Try to be gentle, yeah? At least at first…“ you hummed and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes falling shut as the tip of his cock entered you ever so slowly. You stopped breathing. You didn’t know if it was seconds or hours until your pussy was stretched around his hot cock, the knot just outside of your pussy.

He waited until you relaxed, letting you get used to his size.

The wolf leaned down, his fur brushing against your skin, looking deeply into your eyes before he bottomed out and began to move. His cock slowly dragging through your walls, the foreign shape stretching you out and hitting all the right spots.

You held on to the broad shoulders of the creature fucking you slowly.

“Harder,“ you moaned quietly, trying to move your hips up, but the wolf growled, pinning you against the ground. He stilled inside of you before he pulled out of you.

Before you could react, he had you turned around, pulling you up so you were on your hands and knees, his cock entering you from behind in one hard thrust, making you cry out.

He fucked into you deeply, pumping his cock inside you, his claws holding on to your hips, keeping you where he wanted you.

“Oh fuck,“ you cried out, letting yourself fall down to your elbows, your head falling against the mattress.

The wolf howled, and you felt his cock throbbing, the pointed tip kissing your cervix, making your legs shake.

You felt so fucking full, his cock stretching you just right.

“I’m gonna cum,“ you whined, meeting his thrusts, and you screamed when you came, clenching around his cock. Fucking you through your orgasm, he leaned over your body, his fur brushing over your naked back. Aftershocks of your orgasm were still running through your body when you heard the wolf growl, the cock inside you seemed to get even bigger before he howled, his knot pushing inside of you, filling you with his cum and keeping it inside of you.

You felt his strong, soft arms wrapping around your middle before he slowly pulled you to your side, his cock still stuck inside of you, steadily filling you with his cum.

Breeding you.

You shuddered at the thought, feeling him lick your neck softly, pulling you even closer, keeping you warm.

The last thing you remember thinking before you fell asleep was that you wished you’d known his name…..

When you woke up, you found yourself under a mountain of blankets. Your memory was a little foggy, but you knew someone… or something had saved you. And from the soreness you felt all over your body, you were beginning to think you did not dream of the wolf who had taken you last night.

Your lips parted as you realised there was a fire cracking in the small fireplace. You sat up, looking down at yourself, noticing that you were now wearing a soft Flannel. You brought the fabric up to your nose, surprised when you found it smelling clean with a hint of… wood. It reminded you of how your uncle had smelled when he returned from his job at the local wood factory.

“Hello?” You called out, silence meeting you.

There was a full bottle of what looked like water next to the old sofa you had slept on. Opening the lid carefully, you smelled it, confirming it was water. It could be drugged, your mind provided. But you were too thirsty to care, almost chugging the whole bottle down before slowly pushing yourself up to stand.

You were wearing thick wool socks, your legs still naked. You brushed your fingers over a mark on your inner thigh.

Confused, you began to explore the room.

It had been cleared out, but for some reason, you did not think someone actually lived here. There was, however, food on the table. Just a can of old beans and a fork.

Narrowing your eyes, you eyed the can, your hands gripping the back of the chair that was tucked against the old wooden table. Looking down at your hands, you had grabbed something soft, finding yourself looking at an old, worn pair of sweatpants.

You began to feel like you were in the twilight zone, waiting for someone to jump out of a corner.

For him to find you in whatever form he was this morning.

Sucking your bottom lip in, you looked around again before you slowly slipped your legs into the sweatpants, finding them way too big. But they were warm and soft, and you sighed in relief.

Which didn’t last long, because you heard voices outside.

Frantically looking around, you found the rusty piece of metal you had with you when you had hidden the night before, grabbing it.

You moved behind the door as silently as possible, the voices coming closer.

“We’re not here to kill you,” someone called out. A man.

You heard that before.

“I know you have no reason to trust us. But we’re here to help.”

He could smell her.

Her and her flowery scent that seemed to drive him to insanity ever since he crossed it two days ago.

Due to his… other self, his senses were always better than those of an average human, but in the week leading up to the full moon, they seemed to sharpen even further. It was why he and Tommy always went out on their monthly trip to the radio tower that lasted three days when they really just used the full moon to hunt down infected and people who would potentially bring harm to Jackson.

He had been tracking three men, raiders, their scent full of adrenaline and arousal, when he came across your scent. Frightened, dehydrated, but so flowery and sweet that it was the only thing he could think about.

Still in his human form, he had seen you, almost naked, running frantically through the woods. Away from them.

He had kept an eye on you, the animal in him taking over, his urge to protect you taking over. Yet he waited until the next night, his wolf form making him stronger, to take your attackers out one by one, making it as painful as possible.

And then you were in his arms. Cold, unconscious, yet so so beautiful.

He brought you to the cabin he and Tommy had cleared out the month after he got to Jackson, setting you down on the couch.

Pulling a blanket over you, he was thankful for the fire Tommy must have lit when he had been here earlier, carefully putting another log of wood into the fire to keep it going.

Making his way back to you, he was overcome with the urge to have you back in his arms. Carefully, he pulled you against him, and you seemed to seek his warmth, your fingers digging into his fur.

Looking out, he counted that he had around three hours until the sun came up, and he’d change back to his human form.

He knew he should have left you there. He should have gone out, leaving you safe and unharmed.

He wished he could blame everything that happened in the cabin on his wolf side. The wolf side knew he had to have you because you were ready to breed. It’s why you smelled so sweet and irresistible for him. You were ovulating and ready to bear his offspring. But Joel was still inside. He knew what he was doing. And he tried to stop initially, but it was a fight he quickly let himself lose, getting lost in you. And the worst part was he enjoyed every single second. The way you held on to him. The way you tasted. The way you looked when you came. The way you smiled as he pumped you full of his cum, just before you passed out again.

Joel sighed, following his brother as he approached the house slowly. Joel could smell you. Adrenaline cursing through your veins.

“I’m Tommy, and this is my brother Joel,” Tommy stopped in front of the house, holding his hands up.

“We come from a community not far from here. We have water, electricity, food…”

Joel’s heart seemed to stop the moment he heard your voice.

“How do you even know I’m here?” You asked. Tommy’s eyes found Joel’s.

“We have cameras set up around the patrol route, and we saw you on one of them,” he lied easily.

Joel and Tommy had talked about what to tell you. Tommy knew from the moment they met up after the moon disappeared, smelling you all over him.

He did not ask questions when Joel told him they had to go get you from the cabin.

They both had their fair share of things they weren’t the most proud of, both as humans and werewolves. Tommy knew better than anyone else how hard it was to keep yourself in control when all the monster in you wanted was to claim someone.

It was how he met Maria.

Thankfully it all turned out for the best in the end, but still, Joel felt like a fucking monster.

The door opened, and you stepped out carefully, holding up the piece of metal he had found you with last night in front of you. You were wearing his shirt.

Mine.

His pants.

Mine.

He could smell himself all over you.

Mine.

He wondered if he was still dripping out of you.

“Cameras? You… You know how I got here?” You asked, your heartbeat quickened.

Tommy shook his head.

“No. The cameras only activate once you’re inside the cabin.”

“Oh,” you nodded, hesitating.

“Did you…. See something weird?”

“Just you pretty much passing out,” Tommy lied again.

“Weird,” you whispered to yourself, but both Joel and Tommy could hear it.

“So… what do you say? Care to join us?” Tommy asked.

“I… I should not trust strangers. But these last days have been… I’m still not quite sure how I survived…” you shook your head, your arms hugging yourself.

“You are welcome to wait out until patrol gets here. My wife will be with them, she’s kind of the leader of our little community,” Tommy said.

Your heartbeat slowed down.

“You’re married?” She asked with a small smile. Tommy nodded, his smile wide.

“Married and about to become a dad. Well… still a couple months to go, but, yeah.”

You nodded.

“What about your brother? Joel, was it?” You asked.

There was something familiar about the broad man standing just behind Tommy. He hadn’t looked at you directly once, but something told you you knew him.

“It’s complicated,” he said, and a shiver ran through your whole body, hearing his voice.

You swallowed.

“I haven’t heard that since college,” you joked.

“You went to college?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah. I was 19 when the outbreak happened,” you said.

“Did anyone make it?” Tommy asked.

You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“Whole family is dead. The people I was with… Raiders killed them before they made me…” you shook your head, missing the way Joel’s whole body stiffened as he tried to control his anger.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy said, and you sighed.

“Well. I should have learned not to get too attached to people. It’s a luxury nowadays to have someone.”

“Maybe you’ll have more luck in our community,” Tommy winked, and you took a deep breath. What other choices did you really have?

You were tired and weak, and maybe you had hallucinated having sex with a… wolf?

Because if they had cameras inside the cabin and last night really happened… You felt your cheeks growing warm, a throbbing between your legs.

You looked at Joel again, his eyes now on you. Brown eyes that seemed to look right into your soul, making you part your lips in a gasp.

Was it him?

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, not looking at you again.

“What do you say, darlin’?” Tommy asked, and you did not miss the way Joel’s head snapped to look at his brother, glaring at him.

Tommy smirked.

“I think I would kill for a hot shower,” you said with a small smile.

“When are you gonna stop hovering like a mother hen and go tell her?” Joel almost jumped as he heard his brother’s voice behind him. He was hiding out of sight from you, watching how you helped Maria with some garden work.

It had been 16 nights since he had you, 15 days since you moved into the house next to his, and it had been pure hell. Being so close to you but not touching you. He took care of you in his own way, from afar. Meals showing up in front of your door, so he was sure you ate. Sending his brother over to fix up the house, because he did not know if he could hold himself back if he was so close to you.

He had done some reading the day before, not understanding why he felt like this.

Now, there wasn’t, like, some kind of How to be a Werewolf for Dummies book around, but what he found made him realise that you probably were his mate. He never felt like this before, his body physically hurting when he did not know where you were.

He wondered if you felt it, too. If you felt the changes…

“Tell her what?” Joel grumbled.

“You could start with telling her that you’re sorry that you behaved like a dick, then start with explaining to her that once a month you turn into a werewolf and that yes, it was you that fucked her. And then you could congratulate her that she’s pregnant,” Tommy listed, and Joel growled.

He had known he had bred you the moment he had changed back the morning after, his guilty conscience killing him ever since.

Not only that he took advantage of you, no, he claimed you, bred you, and it took everything in him not to make you his officially.

Joel shook his head.

“She’s gonna hate me. And fuck… A baby? I’m way too old to raise a child…”

“I don’t know, big brother, you’re doing a great job with Ellie. Any kid would be fortunate to have you as their dad,” Tommy said surprisingly softly.

Joel took a deep breath, watching you wave Maria goodbye as you walked down the street towards home.

“Okay,” Joel said, straightening his shoulders before he followed you home.

You were surprised when you came home and did not find food on your doorstep, if you were honest. You had asked Maria if finding food was normal. It wasn’t.

You had a suspicion as to who it was leaving it, but you had not found the confidence to ask him.

It was like every thought was filled with Joel since you saw his eyes. And even though it sounded insane, you were almost certain that the wolf from the night who claimed you and the man who seemed unable to look into your eyes afterward were the same person.

He felt familiar, like you knew each other, and it was getting harder each day to not be with him. You had never felt like this before, pining over a man who was not only much older than you but who you had never really talked to before.

Shaking your head, you stared at your reflection in the mirror before you washed your face. Tomorrow, you would start working at the greenhouse, and you wanted to make a good impression, which was why you decided to go to bed early.

You were brushing your teeth when you heard a knock on your door. Frowning to yourself, your body buzzing as if it knew who it was, you spit the toothpaste into the sink before you pulled the shirt you had from the cabin over your head and walked towards the door.

His eyes were on you as you walked over to your door, a nervous flutter in your belly as you slowly pulled the door open.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he looked at you, his jaw flexing.

“Hi Joel,“ you said quietly, your hand wrapped around the side of your door.

His eyes seemed to soften as he looked at you.

“Can… Can we talk?“ He asked.

Taken by surprise, you nodded.

“Would you like to come in?“

He could hear you in your kitchen, cluttering as you prepared him some tea. You had only been in this town, this house, for a week, and it already felt more homey than the house he lived in for the last years. Ever since Ellie moved out, he did not like spending time alone in his house. Something was missing.

You were missing.

“I hope you like peppermint,“ you said as you came back into your living room. He didn’t, but he would never tell you.

“Thank you,“ he said, nervous all of a sudden.

You sat down on the other side of the couch from him, pulling your legs against your chest as you looked at him.

“What did you want to talk about?“ You asked.

He took a moment to think about what to say, not really sure how to start.

“Is it about the… the night we met?“ he heard you ask carefully, and he turned his head to look at you, surprised.

“I thought it was a dream at first. How I woke up during the night. I thought I might be losing my mind, but… But I wasn’t, right?“ you asked.

He took a deep breath, before he shook his head.

“You weren’t. I.. I saved you. I killed those… monsters, only to…“

He felt your hand on his.

“Is that why you were ignoring me? Because you…“

“I took advantage of you! You smelled so sweet, and you were so soft… And I usually can control myself, I know what is happening, but I couldn’t around you. I had to… I have to have you. It’s like…. “

“Like you don’t feel whole when you’re not around me? Yeah. That’s how I feel too,“ you said quietly, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You do?“

You nodded.

“You’re not… scared of me?“ he asked.

You giggled, slipping closer to him.

“Joel, you saved my life, and then you made me cum four times. Was I a little out of it? Maybe. But I don’t regret it.“

“Good… That’s… That’s… good…“ he mumbled, closing his eyes as he felt your warm hand on his cheek, turning his head towards you.

“You’re so pretty,“ you mumbled, and he chuckled.

“That’s the first thing you said to me that night,“ and he was still surprised about it.

“It’s true. It’s… I always knew there was more out there than just us. Well and walking mushrooms that are trying to kill us. And I might have read my fair share of fantasy books.“

“Yeah?“ he asked, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. You nodded.

“It’s hot,“ you shrugged before you leaned in and kissed him softly.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“I have to tell you something else,“ he said.

“What?“ you whispered.

“The reason why I couldn’t control myself was because my senses are heightened when I’m in my wolf form. And I… could smell that you were ovulating, which is why everything in my head screaming at me to… breed… you….“

Your lips parted, and he could practically hear you processing what he had just said.

“And… And…. Would you… Would you know if you bred me?“ you asked.

He nodded.

“Then I guess I should tell you that twin pregnancies are common in my family line,“ you said.

He huffed a laugh before he felt you climb into his lab.

“I think you should take me out on a date,“ you mumbled.

“Yeah?“

“Yeah,“ you nodded, before you leaned in and kissed him.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #werewolf au #werewolf joel miller

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sehtoast · 5 months

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Forget Me Not (Homelander x Reader)

1.4k words | gender neutral reader

Ask Prompt: HL x gn reader. Where hl loses his memory and runs away to another state where he meets the reader 🙏

You were totally prepared to swing first and ask questions later. Of course, that was before you saw him. Standing there drinking from your milk carton at three in the morning, fridge light illuminating him against the darkness of your kitchen, was The Homelander himself

You hide the baseball bat before he turns to you, a droplet of milk dribbling down his chin.

“You should really invest in whole milk,” he says, sloshing what little was left inside the carton. “Tastes way better.”

You could hardly believe the night had been real when you woke up the next morning. But, sure enough, he was still there.

“So, how did I end up with The Homelander of all people in my house,” you’d asked nervously. Reality had finally set in and you both sat at the table to talk.

He looked at you like you had seven heads.

“What’s a ‘Homelander?’”

Yeah… That really did happen. If not for the fact he looked entirely serious with such a genuine curiosity in his tone, you’d have thought he was bullshitting you.

Somehow, some way, he’d lost his memory. Ran away from wherever he was, showed up at your house out of all possible others. He said it seemed more inviting, but he couldn’t quite explain why.

You’d tried to explain to him how to find his way back to New York, how to find Vought Tower so that he could go home and get some help, but he seemed too afraid to leave.

“What if I get lost?” He’d asked, eyes twinkling with nervous energy. “You said it’s north-east, but aren't there a lot of things north-east? What if I get the wrong place?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you decided to let him stay. Let him borrow some spare clothes that made him look much less… well, like a superhero. You’re sure Vought would come looking for him eventually, so you might as well keep him safe and sound, right?

After helping him out of that suit, you can’t help but wonder if all super suits are total death traps. If most heroes are padded up to look larger than life, but are really just plain as can be underneath.

Before he falls asleep in your spare room, he tells you the one thing he can remember.

“My name’s John…”

The next day, he follows you around everywhere. You work remotely from home, and he sits next to you on the couch while you do. The TV plays in the background while you cycle through tasks and emails, but his attention seems fixed on you entirely. The clickety-clack of your keyboard fascinates him and he ends up curious as to how you type so fast, what you’re doing, what your code inputs mean.

He’s an interesting fella, curious by nature to the point he’s a total snoop. You catch him in your bedroom on the third day, fingers trailing over your blankets as his gaze pans around the whole room. It seems innocent enough, and he’s given you no reason to feel he’s out to hurt you.

When you ask him what he’s up to, he just shrugs, saying something… interesting.

“I wish I would've had a nice room when I was little…”

It conflicts with what you know to be true about him, but also makes you wonder if he’s starting to remember things. You ask him to elaborate, but he can’t. He presses his palm to his forehead as if he’s in pain and just shakes his head.

“I don’t know. I just know I didn’t…” He trails off, and you’re there to press a soothing touch to his shoulder.

You tell him not to worry too much.

You take him out grocery shopping one day. He’s like a fish out of water.

He doesn’t know the first thing about navigating a store and doesn’t do much more than follow you like a lost puppy. Hell, at the end, he doesn’t even know how to help the cashier with bagging.

He is, however, incredibly helpful when it comes to bringing everything in. He is quite literally the one trip wonder, dangling every single bag from his arms and walking in as though they weigh nothing.

You could get used to that.

You cook a proper dinner that night and he helps. Well, ‘help’ is a strong word. More like he watches and hands you the occasional ingredient.

You’re fascinated by him. He seems oblivious to normal living skills, but a part of him seems to genuinely want to learn them. More than that, he seems so… peaceful. You recall his recent erratic behaviors in the public eye, his meltdown on his birthday, his snippiness with interviewers…

But he seems so much less tense now. Maybe it was the memory loss. Maybe he just likes the quiet. Who knows?

What you do know is, by the second week, you hope he never leaves. You’re almost praying that his memory never returns despite knowing that's selfish.

It’s nice to share your space with someone. It’s nice to have him around.

He’s sweet despite his dramatics. Helpful and eager. He’s company, and it’s been… a very long time since you’ve felt like you weren’t alone. You didn’t quite live in bumfuck nowhere, but it was close enough that he was a blessing.

Your heart sinks on the day he comes downstairs wearing his suit.

He looks at you with those big blue eyes, but within them is a sadness.

There is recognition floating around in there, swirling with that determined fire that you’ve seen on so many screens before. Yet he still looks so melancholy.

You offer him his morning coffee, a shared routine between you both for the past two months, and he sips at it quietly.

He used to hate it, but now..?

“Are you going back?” You ask after some time, not daring to meet his eyes.

Your heart sinks when he tells you he is.

“I’ll miss you…”

He struggles to reciprocate the words properly, but… he leaves you with a tight hug before his departure.

You don’t know why you cry so hard when he goes. No, no…

That’s a lie. You do know.

You miss him terribly.

You miss him for days, for weeks.

You watch the celebrations for his return. You touch the screen of your laptop, wishing he was still at your side, still peering over your shoulder, still riding alongside you in your car.

But he isn’t.

And you don’t think he ever will be again.

You learn to breathe again after some time. You feel good enough to crawl out of bed, collected enough to clean up the house a little. You fall into your hobbies again, but nothing feels right.

It’s all just… dull.

And you hate that you know why.

You hate that you pray every night to hear your fridge door shutting, to hear the clinking of glass in your cabinets, to hear him step on that creaky floorboard on the steps.

But you don’t.

You don’t hear any of it.

Eventually you just stop listening.

Which means you don’t hear what slips through your window. There are no footsteps, no creaks or cracks. You don’t hear his nervous breaths.

You only feel when he lowers himself onto the other side of your bed. You about jump out of your skin, ready to reach for the bat by your nightstand until you realize just who has come to see you.

You throw yourself at him entirely, hugging him tight, arms and legs wrapping around him to squeeze and squeeze and never let go. He holds you close, nuzzling into your neck.

He tells you how much he’s missed you. That he misses the quiet of your life together, that it was the nicest thing to happen to him in… well, his whole life, really. He thanks you for taking care of him, tells you he wants to do the same for you.

Over the next few days, you have a visitor every night.

Within a few weeks, he kisses you for the first time.

After six months, you are a resident of Vought Tower, living with him in his penthouse.

He is different in this environment. More demanding, more intense, but not to you.

No.

When he comes back, when he comes home, he falls into your arms much like you did the night he came back to you. He leaves his burdens at the door, safe and sound with you.

The peace didn’t necessarily come from losing his memory. It didn’t come from the solitude of your old home, nor the routine of domesticity.

It came from you.

He found his peace with you.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #request #i couldn't let this one end on a sad note ;_; i'd cry

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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It’s been a while since I fever dreamed the plot to something, but I just woke up from a literal fever dream set in a futuristic version of New York where Tom Hiddleston and his pet cyborg owl are entrenched in a spy thriller buddy-cop narrative, only to get swept up in the conflicting heartfelt rom-com narrative of Dakota Johnson who, after a series of unfortunate breakups, has sworn off love and committed herself heart and soul to her job as a curator at Futuristic Met Museum. This is much to the distress of her weed smoking, shroom taking trans lesbian mothers and their elderly dog, Jeff, who just want her to find happiness and love.

As part of his cover, Tom and his cyborg owl, Frank, move into the same apartment where he’ll be staying for several months while he plans to steal a diamond from the Met. I think if you held it up to the light it would project nuclear launch codes that’d been etched onto it. Don’t ask me, my brain was more focused on making the cyborg owl into the wise-cracking comic relief. It kept saying things like “wow Tom, you really are a jack of owl trades” or “don’t worry, Tom, owl always love you.”

The pair meet in the lobby where Tom manages to piss off Dakota by not holding the elevator for her while she is carrying heavy boxes. The apartment building, however, is old and shitty, and he gets stuck in the elevator, requiring him to be rescued by one of Dakota’s mothers who also happens to be the super. Dakota huffs her way out the stairwell just in time to hear her mother inviting the “nice British man” to dinner, much to her chagrin as she realizes that her mom is trying to set her up with the asshole and the cyborg owl that sits on his shoulder like a parrot.

Tom, who finds out she works for the met over said dinner, decides to go along with it as he realizes she’d be the perfect cover to get into the Met Museum for an upcoming gala event—not to mention the perfect person to take the fall for his theft—and begins wooing her relentlessly, assuring Frank, the cyborg owl, that it’s all just part of the mission.

Eventually, the pair fall for each other for realzies, and Tom is conflicted over using her to steal the diamond but his time is running out because we also find out he went rogue for a while after his partner died and was using his skills to work freelance for an international crime syndicate and now the mob is after him?????

Anyway, he’s about to confess all to her on the night of the gala when she gets a phone call from her moms letting her know that their elderly dog, Jeff, is dying so the pair rush back to the apartment and take him to the nearest cyborg vet in the hopes of saving him. En route, the mob find them and start shooting at the flying car they’re in and it leads to a comedic shouting match between the pair along the lines of “what do you mean you’re an international spy and the mob are after you? Ugh, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this sooner! I told you everything about me!”

“Oh, yes, your embarrassing high school stories are exactly the same thing as divulging international secrets. Tell you what, after this let’s get a coffee and I can tell you some highly sensitive top secret information to even out the playing field.”

Anyway, Frank the cyborg owl manages to take out the mob car chasing them with a grenade (????!), and the pair get Jeff to the cyborg vet in time. The dream shifted after that to Dakota helping Tom to figure out how to break into the Met so he can get the diamond, not because she loves him and he helped save her childhood dog, but because she wants him gone. Tom accepts her help and storms off to his own apartment where Frank the cyborg owl is poignantly silent save to say “take some Tylenol”

“…what?”

“Wake up, you need Tylenol.”

Which is what sent me rocketing upright in bed, dizzy and dehydrated, pounding migraine headache, drenched in sweat and running what the thermometer tells me is a 102 fever.

Which brings us to now where I’m downing Tylenol in the dimly lit kitchen, guzzling water and typing this all up on my phone because there’s no way I’m going to remember all this in the morning but damn if it wasn’t a fun dream.

Anyway, shout out to Frank the cyborg owl for waking me up before my brain fried ✌️🦉. I’m going back to bed.

#I need a tag for my weird dreams #they happen infrequently but when they do they’re always bangers #long post #literal fever dream #thanks delayed reaction to the Covid shot…

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 2 years

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In the Blink of an Eye | Bucky Barnes (Mafia AU)

mafia!bucky barnes x f!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: With Bucky Barnes, the mafia lord of New York, as your boyfriend, you're usually safe from any and all harm. With a date night gone wrong and your boyfriend distracted, though, anything can happen in the blink of an eye.

A/N: Another one of my favorites because come on, who doesn't love mob Bucky? If you couldn't tell by now, angst is my thing lol, but I'm working on some fluffier oneshots! True to my word, this one's a reader insert for all you lovelies, enjoy and as always keep dreaming 🤍

Warnings: mafia!Bucky, violence, angst, kidnapping, drugging, language, mentions of torture, fluffy ending because I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5,896

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I knew the dangers when I started. I knew the risks. I welcomed them, I embraced them. They did not scare me and they haven't even now, so many months later.

We always seem to think we know ourselves so well, that we know what we'd do in every situation. I thought I knew.

Then I fell in love.

When you're in love, well, everything changes. For the first time, there's another person that you cannot live without. For the first time, you begin to realize just how far you'd go to keep that love, to strengthen it. I used to avoid love, used to think it was worthless.

Then I met Bucky Barnes, Wolf of the North and mafia lord of New York, and I fell harder than I ever have before.

I love him more than anything else in my life, and so I took on the risks willingly. When you love someone that deeply, that ardently, nothing is a risk. Besides, I knew that he would do everything in his power to protect me. Bucky would never let anything bad happen to me.

That's where I went wrong. Not in overestimating him, but underrating what can happen in the blink of an eye.

"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"

He acts as though he's heard me, but his eyes are glued to the phone in his hand as we weave through the crowds in the New York night. He never usually ignores me like this, and even though I'm growing annoyed, I'm hurt by his lack of attention too.

"We'll be fine, even if he is he wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything" Bucky brushes off, not even looking up from his phone. I let out a small huff as we approach the front of the bar and nightclub he owns.

Before we make it to the doors, I grab his well-muscled arm and gently tug him to face me. He looks up now, his usually softened ice blue eyes plagued with business and stress.

"I thought tonight was just for us, my love" I remind. Something softens in his gaze but he ices it down and doesn't as much as touch me.

"It is, but I have some business to attend to first" his gravelly voice replies.

"Business?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow and smiling softly at him, "You can get business any night, but I-"

"Just give me ten minutes, Y/N." my boyfriend interrupts, and if it were any other day I'd say something back. Too exhausted from work to want an argument, though, I simply sigh and decide to show him patience.

"Alright, you have 10 minutes."

We walk inside, but before we do I cast one more glance back towards the man who I saw following us. My heart hits the floor when my eyes connect directly with his across the street. His mousy brown hair and disheveled brown leather jacket and white shirt set me on edge, so I quickly turn around and follow Bucky into his club.

As soon as I'm back by his side, he presses a gentle but burning hand to my back, his touch, however small, still intoxicating me after all this time. Normally, he'd lean over and whisper sweet nothings or promises of love in my ear and I'd shiver at the whisper of his voice so near, but now he barely even touches me. His mind is so preoccupied with work, I know that, but it has been all week since this weekend is his rival's gala.

But I feel ignored and unappreciated and it's killing me.

The pounding music of the club wraps around me, making it harder to keep my thoughts straight. Bucky and I walk straight to the back of the club, where his business no doubt waits. He pulls away from me without so much as a goodbye, and my heart tugs. Quickly I grab his hand, making him glance at me.

"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out," I repeat, and I know he said I'll be fine but I need him to be here with me, "Please, stay with me."

"Doll, you're gonna be fine. Now-"

I cut him off, getting frustrated.

"No Bucky! I can fight, sure, but if he-" I interrupt, only for him to cut me right back off.

"Drop it, Y/N. Just go to the bar or something" Bucky growls, pulling out of my grip and walking into the office without a single glance back at me.

My heart cracks.

He's never like this, ever. He's usually so protective it's overbearing, and yet the one time I need that to feel secure, he refuses. I can take care of myself, but I'm not stupid. And no matter how capable and independent I may be, Bucky brings a level of safety to me that I can't describe.

And yet here he is, leaving me alone in his bar with someone following us.

I huff out a sigh and try not to look too forlorn as I traipse over to the bar. Almost as soon as I've arrived and sat at an open bar stool, the bartender who has become somewhat of a friend over the last few months approaches me.

"And how is my favorite customer?" He asks, his hands busy preparing a drink. I shrug, offering him a soft smile.

"I'm alright, Lee," I respond, playing with the edge of my sleeve, "Just a whiskey please."

"Sure thing, Y/N," Lee says, his brows furrowed as he steps away to make my drink. When the glass slides in front of me, I grab onto it with tired fingers.

"So, do you want me to ask what's really going on or do you want me to believe the lie?" The bartender asks, making me raise my gaze from the amber liquid and to my friend's face. He must see the tears gathering in my eyes because a hint of concern grows. I never break like this.

"Believe the lie, please" I nearly whisper, desperate to not have this conversation right now. Lee stares at me for a second longer before nodding.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

When he walks away to take care of another customer, I'm left feeling alone and forgotten in my boyfriend's bar. I sip on the alcohol and seconds turn to minutes, and ten minutes soon becomes twenty. I feel patience slipping and am seconds away from barging into that room and giving my boyfriend a piece of my mind when another voice pipes up beside me.

"I thought tonight was date night," The voice says, and I can't put a face to it. When I turn, the haze of alcohol clears instantly and my spine snaps straight. The music dulls into a hum. The lights grow darker. The color leeches from my body. My hand trembles around the almost empty glass.

It's him. He's got the same messy hair, the same brown jacket. The same hungry eyes.

Instantly, I clamp down hard on my rising panic. I refuse to fall into hysterics of any kind right now. This is the safest place for me to be right now, so I should have nothing to worry about. Instead, I simply shake my head and turn forward, downing the last of my second whiskey.

"You're another kind of stupid if you think anything is going to happen to me in here," I inform, my tone even and calm despite the throbbing, tearing panic within me that makes me want to sprint for Bucky.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not going to do anything," the man responds, his tone just as even as mine.

I furrow my brows at the ease of his response, but all at once it hits me. My head begins to spin and with each second that passes, my mind begins to fog. No. No. No.

He drugged me.

How did he get it into my drink?

How did I not see it? Smell it? Taste it?

I shove out of my chair so fast that the stool screeches against the hard floor. The sound is absorbed into the mass of the club, though, and an arm snakes around my waist.

"No," I manage out, but the connection between my body and brain seems to be almost severed. The words come out sluggish and far away and when I try to pull from the stalker's hold, my body barely moves.

Instead, I'm left stumbling like I'm drunk with this man guiding me towards the exit as if he's helping me to a cab. The bouncers. Ed and Damien, they won't let him take me. They'll stop him, they'll get him away from me.

"Don't make a scene, Y/N. Your boyfriend isn't even out of his office." My kidnapper's voice slithers into my ear, making my stomach church with nausea.

My boyfriend. Bucky. Oh God, where is Bucky? Why can't I seem to remember where Bucky went? Why he's not here? Why I was alone?

"Bucky, Bucky's gonna-" I slur out, sounding absolutely wasted to the unknowing ear.

"I know, Mr. Barnes going to be so glad I got you home safely," he says suddenly, his entire body shifting tone. I furrow my brows and manage to look and see us just passing Ed and Damien at the door. Even though I can really see straight, I see the two bouncers block the exit when they see me.

"Hey man, what's going on?" I hear Ed ask.

"Nothing much to see, Boss just wanted me to take his lady home," the stalker says, his grip on me tighter than it must appear, "She had a little too much to drink."

Too much to drink? Did I? Why can't I remember what's happening? I didn't think I did but...but maybe I did. Who is this man? He said he's taking me home, maybe Bucky had to cancel date night. It was date night, right?

Both Ed and Damien furrow their brows and look to me, immediate concern drawing on their features when they see the state of me. Some lucid part of me screams to alert them of something, anything, but the thought doesn't come to fruition. It dies somewhere along a neuron and leaves me tripping over my own feet and speechless.

"I've never seen you before, man. How do we know that boss told you to take her home?" Damien asks. My escort doesn't miss a step.

"The Wolf is in states nowadays, isn't he boys?" The stalker replies, and that lucid part sparks up again in protest at the familiar words. That's the code phrase to ensure safety in moments like this.

He knows the code phrase.

They're going to let him take me.

I do what I can to struggle as Ed and Damien step aside, but it only comes across as trying to walk on my own, because the bouncers chuckle slightly.

"Relax Y/N, don't overdo it" Ed quips.

"Rest up, miss. I'll let boss know you got home safely." Damien follows up.

And the lucid part of me fades into the drug haze as my kidnapper guides me out of the safest place on earth without so much of a gun fight. The cool night air slaps me in the face and I whisper, trying to struggle again only to forget why I'm struggling in the first place. My body feels like I'm running through neck-high mud, anyways. Any sharp movements I try to make end in my hands barely moving.

"Bucky," I breathe, an urgency in that word. Beyond the haze and the forgetfulness and the confusion, there's a deep and piercing need to scream out that name. I can't figure out why, but I need him. I can't...I need...

My head's spinning, or maybe it's the world. My stomach is twisting and turning and twisting and turning and tw-

"He can't save you now. He didn't even put up a fight to protect you," that ugly, slimy voice says as a car door opens, "What a shame. A treasure like you should be guarded. But I guess finder's keeper's."

Then I'm shoved into a car and everything goes black.

||| James Buchanan Barnes

Y/N's going to actually kill me. As in my liver on a plate kill me.

The meeting that I promised would only be ten minutes has now gone for forty, and by now she's probably restless, hungry, and a little tipsy.

Great, and I pissed her off earlier so tonight is going to be so much fun.

I pull a hand through my dark hair with a slight groan as the man I was doing business with finally leaves my office. I sit for a second in the semi-quiet of my room, the pounding of music and laughter dulled by the walls. I know I shouldn't have gotten short with her earlier, but damn she wouldn't let up on me with the whole "stalker" thing.

My club is the safest place for her. I would never let anything happen to her, so for her to even think that...I sigh again, shoving it from my mind. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is finding my girlfriend and making all of this shit up to her. I rise from my leather chair and walk out of my office, the dulled sounds roaring into full force.

My eyes immediately shoot towards the bar to find my girl only to see an absence of her. With furrowed brows, I sweep my gaze towards the dance floor. Even crowded with people, I don't see her. I roll my eyes instantly, knowing what probably happened. She probably went home, probably's pissed as hell at me. I brush off my suit jacket and walk up to Lee at the bar, immediately garnering his attention. He smiles at me.

"Hey boss, can I get you anything?" He asks.

"No I'm good, thanks Lee," I respond, leaning on the bar with one arm and pinching the bridge of my nose, "Have you seen Y/N? I think I pissed her off."

There's a pause that makes me look over at my bartender. He's looking at me weirdly as he slides a drink to a customer and laughs slightly.

"Real funny, boss," Lee says, cleaning out a few glasses. I straighten up slightly, my brows furrowing deeper and my jaw setting.

"What's so funny, Lee? Have you seen her or not?" I ask, quickly losing my patience. I always thought he had a thing for her, always was too-

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Lee asks genuinely, cutting off my thoughts. When I don't respond, he realizes I'm not joking and his face goes grave, "So you didn't send her home twenty minutes ago?"

The world tilts around me and every ounce of anger, annoyance, and frustration leaves me in an instant. My heart drops like an anchor at sea and I don't dare to believe what Lee's words mean.

"She left twenty minutes ago," I begin slowly, trying desperately to hold myself together and not jump to a conclusion, "With someone who said I sent them to take her home."

Lee's face is slowly falling as he realizes the situation at hand. I feel so sick to my stomach that I can barely stand when Lee gives a faint nod. My world stops and then starts and then stops again.

"I never gave that order." I breathe.

"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"

I brushed her off.

"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out. Please, stay with me."

I ignored her. I snapped at her. I prioritized work over the light of my life. I told her she'd be fine.

I left her.

Lee is saying something to me but I don't hear it as I shove away and storm over to Ed and Damien, my bouncers. My face is a painting of fury and shame and worry and panic and it's a storm that catches Ed and Damien's attention. They stop what they're doing and look to me, their brows furrowing.

"Boss, what's-"

"You let her leave?" I strangle out, my heart slamming in my chest and my fists balled by my sides, "You let a stranger take her away?"

The two share a confused glance before looking back to me.

"A stranger? Boss, the man who took Y/N home knew the code," Ed informs.

"Did you not send him?" Damien suddenly asks, his face tightening in instant panic.

He knew the code. He knew the code and he somehow got my doll, my fighter, out without so much of a warning.

And it's all my fault.

"Shut the club down, get everyone out. Call together all of our forces. Tell them-" My voice breaks, raw emotion clawing up my throat, "Tell them Y/N's been taken."

I don't wait for a response and shove out into the cold night, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I was so obsessed with the gala this week that Hydra, our arch nemesis, was putting on, that I stopped paying attention to the only part of my life that matters. I have a lot of things, all of which I could live without, but I cannot live without her.

And I left her.

I left her and now she's gone.

She tried to warn me, she tried to tell me someone was following us. She tried to get me to stay with her, to not leave her. And yet I walked away. I just walked away like she didn't even matter and I left vulnerable and alone the only person in this entire fucking universe I love. It's all my fault, and I'll spend every second of the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.

If I can even find her in time, before she-

No. I will find her and she will live. I will burn down this whole damn world if I have to, and I will not stop. Not until every person who laid a finger on my girl is dead. I will paint the world crimson with their blood until I find her, and once I do I will never, never, ignore or leave her again.

That's not a threat. It's a promise.

||| Your POV

The collar secured to my throat is too tight, the metal no doubt leaving red grooves in my skin.

It hurts worse when Alexander Pierce, the mafia lord of Hydra, tugs the matching chain leash attached to it, pulling me closer to him and almost making me stumble mid-step.

The gala is glamorous, and my gown is nothing short of it as well. Pierce even went through the trouble of having someone do my hair. What he didn't do was my makeup.

That way anyone could see the dried blood and bruises littering my skin.

It's a scare tactic, I know that. A way to signal to everyone here that he's in charge and that he can't be defied. But I think he's got a bigger reason in mind for it all, the collar and the hideous marks on my skin.

And that reason is my boyfriend.

I can practically feel people's eyes follow me as I walk as steadily as I can at the end of Pierce's leash. Despite the radiating, excruciating pain that each step incurs, I keep my body steady and my chin high. I let the policemen and officials that are on his payroll and all of the members of his mafia see my bruises and cuts. He's parading me, so I'm going to put on a damn show.

A show to hide how mind-numbingly terrified I am right now.

Behind my set jaw and my cold eyes, I'm fighting back tears. The pain is mixing with the fear of the last few days to make a perfect storm within me. I'm terrified that any moment could be my last, that more pain could await me, that Bucky might never come for me

Or worse. That he doesn't even care.

Regardless of whether or not he cares, I'm still not going to give a single detail out. Even when Pierce himself tortured me until all I knew was blood and pain and fear, I said nothing. He didn't get a single word out of me. I just sat there, strapped to an iron chair, and took it. Every blow, every slice, every shout. At times my mind spared me and allowed me to slip into the sweet nothingness of unconsciousness, but it wouldn't be long after that I awoke to my head shoved into cold water to revive me.

And here I am, now taking a seat at the Dias of his gala room beside the mafia lord of Hydra, my boyfriend's sworn rival, with a collar around my neck tied to his wrist.

The music that wafts from the live orchestra is disturbingly jovial and light, filling the air with a sense of peace that provides such a stark juxtaposition to my insides that I almost puke. I sit ever so stiffly in my chair beside Pierce, my back burning with each movement because of the new stripes across its tender flesh.

As I feel warm liquid slide down my skin, I suddenly understand why Pierce insisted my dress be a dark maroon. I thought it was as at first just a beacon to everyone to show who I was with because it was his signature color, but I know better now. It's to hide the blood that seeps from my still-healing and probably infected wounds.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" Pierce asks, and I don't even have to turn towards him to know he wears a devilish smirk. A cruel man's trademark of victory.

I stay silent.

I hear him click his tongue as he sits back in his ornate chair, "All this quality time together and all I've heard from your voice has been your screams. No matter how pretty they are, doesn't seem polite to me."

This time, I can't hold myself back.

"Neither is kidnapping another human being and treating them like a prisoner of war," I announce, my voice raw and hoarse from the screaming and shouting of the past few days, "So pardon me if I'm not feeling too polite."

It's a bold move, but I make it anyways, gambling that he wouldn't lash out in the midst of his party. A little breath of relief escapes me when he chuckles.

"And here I was under the impression you were a sweet, soft-spoken sort of woman. My sources misjudged you." Pierce responds.

Of course he's been watching me. A scheme like this doesn't happen overnight. He's been planning this for a while, now. Pierce knew exactly when Bucky would be most vulnerable, when the defenses would be the loosest. It makes me want to scream.

"You're going to die for this," I whisper, quietly but not softly. There's his laugh again.

"Oh honey," Pierce starts, his voice condescending as if I were a toddler, "Careful with blind faith. What makes you so sure Barnes will make it out of this alive?"

His words unsettle something so deep within me that if I spend more than a few seconds touching on it, I'll shatter. Instead, I turn to look at Alexander Pierce for the first time since we've sat down. My eyes are cold and harsh upon him and the shining metal of the collar that tethers us.

"What makes you so sure it will be Bucky who kills you?"

He has the good sense to look the slightest bit unnerved, and I give him a smirk of my own, "Like you said before, your men sorely misjudged me."

Before he can respond, one of the guards that stands behind us steps forward and whispers something in the mafia lord's ear. Whatever he says makes Pierce grin fiercely as he looks back to me and gives the collar a tug.

"Your White Wolf is here."

My heart jumps so hard that I forget how to function. For a moment, everything else fades and dims away, even the biting pain wrapping me like a blanket of thorns. I snap my head back forward and when I see him I swear I almost break right then and there.

Because his eyes are already on me, and they're coated with fury.

It takes every ounce of strength I have to not dissolve into tears, to not let my fear show.

He's here.

Bucky found me.

When our eyes meet, something so primal and raw ignites in his features. He looks seconds away from shattering as his chest heaves, his eyes scouring every inch of me. I feel undone before him, as if the dress doesn't hide a single thing that Pierce and his men have done to me.

"James Barnes," Pierce announces, snapping the connection between us swiftly, "I thought you'd never come. I hope you don't mind, I think I've stolen your date for the evening."

Then he wraps his palm around the chain leash and yanks it so hard that I nearly tumble out of the chair. His hand is there to stop me as it grabs my jaw in a bruising grip. Pierce hums, turning my face side to side before forcing it forward to the crowd that now watches. Bucky is painted with dark rage and looks seconds away from ending Pierce's life.

"She makes quite the pretty pet."

Bucky begins to storm forward only for two of the guests who belong to Pierce's mafia to grip onto his arms and prevent him.

"Take your fucking hand off of her, Pierce, or I swear I'll-" Bucky growls, and hearing his voice is enough to ease some of the knot that's wound in my chest these last few days.

"You'll what?" Alexander asks, releasing my chin but remaining ever so calmly in his seat beside me, "You must not care that much for my pet, after all you were the one to ignore her."

There's a bone-crushing silence and I see that same something shatter in my love's gaze.

"You shoved her off, you left her alone," Alexander cuts out, reaching out and running a hand through my hair, "You so carelessly let her slip through your fingers and here you are pretending to care."

"What I did was unforgivable, I know that," Bucky says suddenly, and I see even from here the silver lining his eyes as he speaks, "But she is a good person. She doesn't deserve this. If you need to punish someone, don't let it be her."

"You don't deserve her," Pierce says, and I want to scream that he's wrong but Bucky cuts me off. His eyes clash with mine and I fall in love all over again.

"I know," he says so softly that I almost miss it. I try to shake my head 'no', but Pierce tightens the collar, making me whimper.

Bucky shoves off the two men holding him, composing himself and standing stiffly a good ways before us.

"Let her go, Pierce," Bucky reiterates, his tone harsh once more and his stare pure murder, "I won't ask again."

Pierce clicks his tongue beside me, letting up on my leash to let me relax slightly.

"Oh Barnes, did you really waltz in here thinking you'd walk back out?"

There's a deadly silence and I swear you can hear my heart smash into the floor even though I expected this. With every second between his last words and his next, I grow more panicked.

"I have you surrounded, Barnes. You're not getting out of this," Pierce announces. Bucky doesn't look the least bit unnerved, though.

Pierce reaches you to an ear piece I didn't know was there and touches it, "Guns at attention."

From my spot next to him, all I hear is static. There's no response coming back, and the confusion becomes evident on Alexander's face at the same moment I realize what's going on. Hope like a new sunrise breaks in me and I look over at Bucky to find him smirking. He winks at me once before furrowing his brows at Pierce.

"What's wrong, can't reach your men?" Bucky taunts.

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Guns are firing and people are screaming and within seconds, Bucky's mafia that's already infiltrated the gala hall appears from the woodwork, their guns raised and keeping the few mafia members left under gun point. Bucky just stands coolly in the midst as another deadly silence blankets the room. I can practically feel the rage draining off of Alexander.

"Get him!" Pierce suddenly shouts, and what few men are left charge at Bucky. Including the personal guards around us. The gunfire begins again, and the classy event is soon painted crimson.

I take the brief moment of chaos to my advantage and shoot up from my seat. As soon as Pierce registers that I'm moving, it's too late. Despite the screaming of my body, I sprint behind Pierce's chair and brace one heeled foot at its back. Then, before he can reach for a gun, I wrap the leash he's collared me with around his neck and pull back, strangling him with the own device he subjected me under.

His hands claw desperately at the chain and I feel my exhausted muscles trembling, but I refuse to let up. I keep holding the chain tighter and snap my gaze up in Bucky's direction just in time to see him shoot a guard between the eyes.

"Bucky!" I shout, gaining his attention instantly.

I know I can't hold Pierce off much longer, so Bucky will need to help me take him down while I've got him strangled to the chair. The metal is cutting deep into his skin when Bucky begins fighting desperately to reach us. Before he can, though, Pierce gets a purchase on the chain and yanks with such force that it sends my body flying over him and the chair. I land flat on my back so hard on the tile that the air rushes out of my lungs and every cut and tear rips open.

"Y/N!" Bucky roars, and it rattles my very bones

I gasp and groan in pain simultaneously, desperately trying to get air into my lungs. The second I can breathe again, Pierce is dragging me backwards by the chain.

"No!" I shout, reaching up and gripping the chain before yanking it.

We tug back and forth as he drags me, but I manage to hook my foot around one of the overturned chairs and use the leverage to yank the chain so hard that I hear a snap followed by a shrill yell.

I just broke his wrist.

When I pull again, the chain comes free and a weight lifts from my shoulders. I scramble to my feet, about to sprint away and towards where I last saw Bucky when Pierce's hands grip my shoulders and rip me back. I don't even have time to scream when my back is slammed into a hard wall and Pierce is before me, a knife in his unmangled hand that's pressed to my cheek.

"You little bitch" he seethes.

My chest is heaving with breath and panic as I read back and spit in his face as hard as I can. He recoils slightly and I relish in it. My happiness only lasts a second, though, because his knife is pressing into my cheek. I try to squirm but his body is pressed firmly to mine and pins me to the wall.

"I so didn't want to end you this quickly," Pierce whispers, his voice slithering against my skin.

I keep trying to be strong, to be so strong, but it's getting harder to keep up. I try to not show my fear, but it's getting harder and harder to hide. I feel myself finally breaking after the hell that these last few days have been and just when I think he's going to end it all, he's gone. In a moment, he's off of me and unconscious on the ground.

And Bucky is standing before me, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.

"Bucky," I breathe, already feeling my strength slip away.

I don't have to be strong anymore.

Bucky drops the gun he just rendered Pierce unconscious with, every inch of his face softening upon my bloody, trembling form. He looks a minute away from crying when I stumble forward and crash into him, letting myself break down in his arms that already wrap around my waist and keep me upright. He keeps me so tight to himself that there is no room between us. I bury my face into his neck and let out a sob, my tears mixing with the blood on his suit. I can't tell which of us is shaking harder, but all I can tell is the warmth and security that Bucky's hands bring me.

"Oh doll," Bucky whispers, sending a shiver down my spine, "You're alive. You're alive."

I mumble some sort of affirmation, but I can barely think straight.

"I'm so sorry, doll. I'm so sorry." Bucky repeats it over and over again, "God, Y/N I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Buck. It's alright," I whisper, but he keeps shaking his head. He pulls back far enough to meet my gaze.

"I've been shitty to you. I should've listened to you, I should never have left you. I am never leaving you again."

"It's okay, I forgive you," I repeat, brushing a bloody hand against his jaw, "Of course it's gonna cost you at least four new pairs of shoes."

At my joke, a laugh of pure relief to have me back in hands escapes his lips. I chuckle softly too, taking in every inch of his breathtaking face. A tear drops down his cheek and he leans his forehead against mine.

"I love you so much, I love you more than life." he breathes.

"I love you too. That's all that kept me breathing, loving you,"I respond, and his lips are on mine in an instant.

Even though it's only been a few days, kissing him feels like I've been in a drought and he's my water. The kiss is desperate and pleading and consuming. It steals whatever strength is left in my knees and I link my arms around his neck to support myself. When he finally pulls away, he leaves a trail of kisses to my nose and then my forehead before tugging me to himself again.

"I'm going to tear him apart for this," Bucky vows, and I know it shouldn't but I still let out a breath of relief at that.

"Is that why he's not dead yet?" I ask, chuckling softly. He does the same, kissing the top of my head.

"That's exactly why," Bucky agrees, pulling back and rubbing a finger along my cheek. He becomes serious again and I feel my heart flutter.

"When I found out you were gone, I lost myself." He says, his throat bobbing as he Cho's my face with his large hands, "Y/N, there is no me without you"

I turn to kiss his hand before leaning into it more.

"I'll always find my way back to you. You're all I have, James"

Another tear works down his cheek before he finally steps to the side. The gala is trashed, but the gunfire is over. Apparently, his men were here hours before anyone else got here. I feel my strength abandoning me, so I lean my weight onto Bucky. He feels this and immediately scoops me into his arms, holding me close to his chest.

"I'm going to kiss every one of these scars when we get back" His voice rumbles, and I smile as I lean my head further into him.

"Let's go home, my love"

And he held up his promise. He never left me again.

4K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 9 months

Text

hello neighbor [1]

AN | So…what if you moved to a new apartment and Eddie Munson was your neighbor? What if he also had an adorable little black cat? Things could get interesting! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 5.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

Part 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You grunted, an admittedly unattractive sound, as you dragged the last of your boxes out of the elevator and towards your new apartment. It was down the hall, at the end naturally, but it was so close. You’d managed to do pretty much everything by yourself, except for the new furniture that had been delivered, you’d let the delivery people handle that. But at the end of the second day of moving, your body was tired and you were ready to crash and call it a day. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

It was just these damn boxes that needed to be brought. You hadn’t labeled them, a silly mistake on your part, and you weren’t sure if it was items you actually possessed or if somehow you’d acquired several boxes of rocks. With a groan you resorted to sliding them down the hall, thanking whatever was out there in the universe that the floor was smooth tile. It would take a few minutes but then it would all be done and you’d be all moved into your new apartment in New York City.

“You alright there?” the inquisitive voice caught you so off guard that you almost tumbled over the boxes laid out in front of you. You felt an arm wrap around your waist before you could collide with the floor, and were hoisted back to your feet, "easy there."

"I- umm…" almost every coherent thought left your mind as you stared at the handsome man in front of you. He was tall, tatted, with long, curly hair in a messy bun at the top of his head. A megawatt smile was on his features as he arched an eyebrow curiously, "uh huh."

Smooth.

"Let me give you a hand," he was already moving towards the boxes, ignoring the surprised look on your face, "you must be the new girl. I live right across the hall, which makes us neighbors."

"Oh," your cheeks immediately warmed up as you realized that not only had you made a fool out of yourself in front of an attractive older man, that same man happened to be your new neighbor, "oh."

"Oh," he teased softly, easily scooping up one of the boxes, "I'm Eddie. Got a name, new neighbor?"

You managed to choke your name, almost making it sound like a question. Eddie grinned as he repeated it, almost as if testing it out to see if he liked it. All you could do was nod dumbly as you watched him set the box in front of your door, easily followed by the other one, “t-thank you. So much.”

“Don’t mention it,” he scoffed as it was almost offensive that you hadn’t tracked him down and asked him to do it, “I can bring them inside if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” you reached into your pocket and fiddled for a moment before you fished out your key and unlocked the door. You cringed when the door opened to reveal the mess of boxes that you still needed to unpack and put away. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it, instead stacking them neatly near the door, “sorry about the mess, but thank you so much.”

“Mess?” he surveyed the space and shook his head, “you’re just movin’ in! I’d be more surprised if you were some kind of psycho that already managed to get everything put away.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips and Eddie couldn’t help the way he looked you over, drinking you up with as much respect as possible, “listen, I had enough of a hard time getting all of this up and in here by myself. It’s going to take a bit to get everything sorted and put away.”

“Hold on - “ his eyes widened as he pinched the bridge of his nose; you hadn’t noticed the fact that he had his nose pierced before but it was another detail that added to his attractiveness, “you’re telling me you did all of that by yourself?”

“Umm…yes?”

“Oh no,” shaking his head, he reached for your hand and held it tenderly in between his, “you should have asked me-”

“I didn’t even know you existed until about five minutes ago!” you already liked the absurdity of this man. You were grinning like an idiot at him, well aware of the fact but not fighting it.

“I should have been home and known to help!” he sighed dramatically, “well - anytime you need help with anything please feel free to come and ask.”

“Eddie-”

“I mean it,” his voice was soft but sure. Normally, if a man was being this upfront from the start, you’d have run far away and never looked back. But there was something about him that was warm and inviting and left you with a healthy dose of curiosity, “I’m right across the hall. Especially if you’re going to be living alone…”

“I’m single,” you blurted before you could even think about it and you wanted to slap yourself. He didn’t need that detail…he definitely was not even asking for that but here you were volunteering information, “I, ugh, just mean yes, I’ll be living alone.”

“Right,” there was a smile on his face and his cheeks pinked slightly, “so if you need anything don't hesitate. That’s what neighbors are for.”

“Thank you,” you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat as you watched him walk towards the door, “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he jokingly bowed before stepping out of your apartment and gently closing the door, “have a good evening, lovely.”

You let out a long sigh before leaning against the door and listening to his retreating footsteps and then the open and close of his own door. How the hell did you manage to get the hottest neighbor ever? And the fact that he was nice, seemingly so anyway, made things that much harder.

You had a feeling that Eddie was going to be trouble. Where that was the good trouble or bad, was still to be determined.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Over the next couple of weeks you kept more or less of a low profile in your new apartment. It wasn’t that you were actively trying to avoid your extremely attractive neighbor but…you were trying to avoid your extremely attractive neighbor.

And he wasn’t making it any easier. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was doing it on purpose. You always seemed to run into him, especially if it was when you felt like you were particularly unattractive - unbeknownst to you however, Eddie found you incredibly attractive any time he saw you.

He was drawn to you, that much he could admit, but he also didn’t want to scare you off either so he figured that he would let things progress at your pace. Even if you just wanted to be friends with him, he was more than happy to take that. He was just curious…like you were about him.

It was late one Friday night, which found you cuddled up on the couch, watching a trashy reality show and eating ice cream, when you heard a knock on the door. Your first instinct was to roll your eyes and ignore whoever was at the door, but curiosity got the better of you. With a heavy sigh, you set down your dessert and padded your way to the door; although you had no clue who it could be at this hour, you didn’t bother to look through the peephole and instead threw open the door.

And regret immediately set in.

There was Eddie, standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a wicked grin on his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked him over, admiring the tattoos all over his arms, the messy bun of curls on top of his head, and how good the all black looked on him. You spared yourself a quick glance and grimaced; you were in a pair of sleep shorts and an old band shirt - hardly what you would consider cute. Ugh.

“Cute pajamas,” your entire face felt like it was on fire as you tried to make yourself small. He chuckled softly before rubbing at the scruff along his jaw, “c’mon don’t get all shy on me now.”

“H-hi Eddie,” your voice almost came out like a squeak and you were ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, “what’s up?”

“Just wanted to come over and see the pretty girl next door,” he flashed you a toothy grin and you were most certainly not alright. He was too good looking and too likable, “and to make sure you were doing alright. Haven’t seen you in a bit and wanted to make sure you’re settling in okay.”

“Wow,” it came out as a breathy whisper that you weren’t entirely sure you wanted him to hear it. He just kept on checking all the right boxes, “umm, thank you. Yeah, I’m, uhh, I’m doing alright. Keeping busy.”

“Good,” you could feel him studying you intently, making you feel shy, “you know you can ask me for help with anything, right? You’re encouraged to ask.”

“I-I know.”

“Good girl,” and yeah…that was enough to make your brain stop working for a moment, “I actually have a little favor to ask of you.”

Sinful thoughts ran through your mind and you’d have been ready to drop to your knees for him, but you weren’t ever going to admit that, “s-sure, anything.”

“I’m going to be out of town for a few days and I was wondering if you could check in on my cat while I’m gone,” you were nodding before you even fully realized what he was asking, “I can leave you the key and show where everything is. She’s pretty low maintenance but she does love some good cuddles.”

“Yes,” alright, that’s another point in his favor, “of course, Eddie. That’s no problem at all.”

"You're a lifesaver," and yeah, maybe he was being dramatic but you enjoyed the praise nonetheless, "I'll make it worth your while, promise."

"Oh, please," you tutted at him and waved your hand around dismissively, "its hardly a bother."

"You're doing me the favor," he looked up at you from under his thick, dark lashes and smiles, "maybe you'll consider letting me take you to dinner."

Oh. Oh. But he had to have meant it in a friendly manner, right? Like two friends going to dinner. If you'd even consider whatever you had going on a friendship.

When he noticed your hesitation, a touch of pink crept into his cheeks. The last thing he would want was for you to get nervous or scared of him.

"Hey, it's alright," he spoke softly, causing you to nod, "think about it. But, whatever you want in return - it's yours."

"Eddie-"

"Do you want to come over tomorrow evening and I can show you around?" The idea of being in his personal space, his sanctuary, made a shiver run down your spine. You were absolutely curious about him and wanted to know more of what his story was. Who was he really? He had to be much more than just your attractive older neighbor.

"Sure," your heart skipped a few beats, "that sounds good!"

"Cool cool cool," he took a step back and rocked on his heels, "come on over when you're home. I'll be around."

"I'll see you tomorrow evening," you leaned against the door, feeling more like a wistful teenager with a big, fat crush than a grown woman. He shot you a quick wink before turning to go back across the hall. Before he disappeared into his apartment, he turned around.

"I meant it earlier," you raised an eyebrow, "cute pajamas - but you're even cuter. See you tomorrow, lovely."

He closed the door gently and left you gaping after him. He really had said that, hadn't he? You weren't sure if you enjoyed his audacity or if it made you want to shrivel up and perish. But Eddie absolutely did not give you the awful feeling that most men did.

So you decided that you enjoyed all that he was throwing at you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next evening found you anxiously standing in front of Eddie’s door. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t rushed home after work and changed before heading over to his place. Maybe a a cute little sundress and a fresh wave of perfume wasn’t what you needed to go over to his place to meet his cat, but it wasn’t not needed.

Before you could even knock on the door, it slowly opened and you found yourself face to face with Eddie. A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you lowered your hand; your brain was currently short-circuiting at the sight of him in a pair of gray sweatpants and tight white t-shirt, his hair on top of his head in his usual messy bun.

“Hey there,” he had one arm raised as he leaned casually in the doorway, making it incredibly hard for you not to start visibly drooling, “I was wondering if you were ever going to knock.”

“How did you…I wasn’t…”

“Heard your door close and then you walked across the hall,” he shrugged as he stepped aside to let you in, “and then you didn’t knock…wasn’t hard to put two and two together, lovely. You look nice."

You weren’t sure how to respond, especially considering that he’d caught you red-handed. Your attention was quickly torn away from him as you looked around his apartment. It was much more grandiose and larger than yours was, and somehow suited him perfectly. He smirked to himself as he watched you look around, your eyes wide and pretty.

“This is…amazing,” you ghosted your fingers along the dark velvet of his couch, “holy shit Eddie. You have like half the floor to yourself!”

“I do - it’s only me and you on this floor,” he raised an eyebrow as realization hit you. That’s why he’d been the only neighbor to come and help you with your move-in struggles, “long story…maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

You were distracted by the pitter-patter of soft feet, along with the sweetest and daintiest meow you’d ever heard. Sitting at your feet was the cutest cat you’d ever seen and it was almost impossible to hold back your squeal.

“Oh my goodness,” you crouched down to the greet the small black ball of fluff. A pair or orange eyes looked back at you, a pink bow peeking through the midnight fur, “hello there! You’re just the cutest little thing.”

She looked at your outstretched hand for a moment, clearly contemplating whether or not you were trustworthy before rubbing her head against your palm. She started purring almost immediately and much louder than you would have expected of her, “this is Biscuit.”

“Biscuit?!” you cooed at the small cat who had clearly taken a liking to you, “that’s so cute. She’s so cute!”

“She tends to have that effect on people,” Eddie pretended to sigh as he looked down at her, “it’s a hard life. As you can see, she’s very affectionate. She’s a people girl.”

“I love her,” you couldn’t help yourself as you plopped onto the cool, dark hardwood of the floor. Biscuit immediately crawled into your lap in search of further cuddles, “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to meet her. You’re such a pretty little thing!”

Just like you, Eddie thought to himself. But he wasn’t about to verbalize that just yet. He brushed past you and into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he waited for you to get over your initial excitement with the small cat. After a few moments of cuddles, she made a small sound before slinking over to Eddie.

You stood back up, cheeks warm with embarrassment as you wandered over to him; there was a knowing little look on his face.

"Let me show you where her food and everything is and I can give you the grand tour," Eddie waved his hands around in a grandiose gesture as you giggled at him, "luckily for you there's no real plants around or I'd make you water those too."

"A real shame," you clicked your tongue as you shook your head dramatically, "I'll just have to spend time with Biscuit."

"Tragic," he agreed as Biscuit sat in between the two of you, looking up at you intently, "follow me then ladies, for our little tour."

You felt like a puppy as you followed Eddie around his place, listening to him explain where things were and how he acquired the interesting bits of decor he had. But, to be quite honest, you were busy studying everything in order to learn all about him. He has lots of photos on the walls, ones you hoped to look at when he was gone. Overall, it felt like what you had expected, a sort of minimalist and dark vibe with pops of personality. The best part of all was how cozy and homey it felt.

"And that's about it," he turned around and held his arms out in a grand gesture. You snapped back into attention and wondered if he could tell how lost in your daydream fantasies you'd been, "any questions, comments, and or concerns?"

"Nope," you hoped your smile oozed confidence, "not at all."

"Hmm," he had a way of leaving against the doorway that made him look so effortlessly cool, "well if you need anything or have any questions I'm just a call or text away. Lemme give you my number."

Your mouth felt like sawdust as you fished your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it to hand to him. He put his number in and sent himself a quick message so he'd have your number as well.

"There we are," you took your phone back and smiled shyly at your feet.

"Are you sure she's gonna be okay with me just coming to feed her and change the litter?" The little black was a fluff ball of affection, "she seems like she really loves people."

"You are more than welcome to come over whenever you want to see her," he tried not to immediately imagine you cuddled up on the couch with her in your lap and his arm around your shoulders, "if you'd like, you can just stay over while I'm gone. Fridge is fully stocked and there's the spare bedroom."

"O-oh," the domesticity that came to your mind was overwhelming. Why were you already imagining a whole future with him? You looked down at Biscuit who looked back at you as if she too was awaiting an answer, "I might just have to take you up on that offer."

"Please do," fuck, not the soft little side grin, "I insist. Thank you again for doing this at the last minute…work can be a little unpredictable."

“Work which is…what exactly?” you asked, curious to know what this mysterious man’s day job was. He smiled, a fond little thing, before exhaling slowly.

“That’s a long story for another day,” alright. Now you were just curious, “but I work in the music industry.”

“You’re really going to leave me with that, huh?” you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips as he nodded. A single rogue curl had escaped his bun and bounced along his temple and the temptation to touch it was hard to push it down.

“And what is it that you do then, huh?” he was just as curious about you as you were about him.

“I’m a teacher,” you saw a momentary look of surprise flickered across his face before it settled on impressed, “to a rowdy but wonderful bunch of first graders.”

“Damn,” he clicked his tongue as he gave you the once over, “you’ve really got the whole cute schoolteacher thing going on. Impressive.”

“Shut up,” you playfully gave his arm a push, “hardly impressive compared to what I’m sure you’ve got going on.”

“Beg to differ,” he insisted but you weren’t buying it. He reached down and scooped Biscuit into his arms, “I hate to cut this short, but I have an early flight and should get some sleep. Let me grab you my spare key real quick.”

He reached into one of the drawers of the credenza next to the door and fished out a key. He tucked it into your hand and you quickly made a fist to keep it safe, “have a good flight and safe trip.”

“I will,” your genuine sweetness and concern made his heart kickstart and constrict in a way it hadn’t in a long time, “be safe and have fun here. Please, make yourself at home, I insist.”

“Thank you,” you headed over to the door, but paused with your hand on the doorknob, “will you text me? Let me know your flight was okay and all that?”

“Of course,” and oh my, my, my. He was sure he was blushing like crazy but you were making him feel a type of way, “I’ll text you."

“Good night Eddie.”

“Good night, lovely.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To your surprise, and delight, the next morning you woke up to string of texts from Eddie. He ended up giving you a play-by-play of his airport experience (security took forever and he wished he’d have gotten the TSA pre-flight check which he swears he’ll do before the next trip) and then his flight, letting you know when he finally got to California. There was a huge grin on your face as you quickly texted him before getting ready for work.

The two of you ended up exchanging a few texts throughout the day, nothing too deep, but you couldn’t deny how giddy it made you each time you saw his name pop up on your screen. You stopped at the store to get a few things to make dinner and picked up a few treats for Biscuit. You were almost sure that you would just stay at Eddie’s place, and the idea sent shivers down your spine. It was solely to keep Biscuit company, of course. Totally. You had no other real reason to stay over…you doubted your curiosity and nosey nature would constitute a real reason.

You packed up a few things and then took yourself over to Eddie’s pausing for a moment before letting yourself in; this felt so intimate. But as soon as you walked inside, you heard the soft padding of Biscuit’s paws on the hardwood as she made her way over to you, meowing when she realized it was you.

“Hey sweet girl,” you quickly ran into the kitchen and put your things down before giving her your full attention, “I’ve been thinking about you all day, cutie! I can’t wait to cuddle with you and watch some movies.”

She was purring loudly as she weaved her way between your legs and rubbed against you. You decided that even when Eddie was back you’d make some sort of excuse to come over and see her. Before you did anything else, you plopped onto the floor and pulled out your phone; Biscuit wasted no time before hopping into your lap and curling up. You snapped a quick picture of her and sent it to Eddie with a cheeky little caption to prove she was alive.

It was only a few minutes before he texted back, and his simple question made your heart leap and butterflies explode in your tummy.

May I see the whole picture?

You would never admit to how long it took for you to take a photo of yourself and Biscuit that you deemed appropriate enough to send to Eddie. You finally sent one, deciding not to worry about it anymore, and put your phone away. You got back up and started to put things away and familiarize yourself with the kitchen. You were trying so hard not to look at your phone but it was proving to be a hard challenge.

After about fifteen minutes the screen finally lit up as your phone vibrated on the marble countertop. His simple response sent you into a talespin.

Absolutely beautiful.

You squealed softly, trying to contain yourself and focusing on cooking as you put on some music in the background. You typed out a bunch of different responses but couldn’t bring yourself to send one. How was he being so nonchalant and flirty? Within a few moments your phone went off again.

I wonder how many texts you typed and deleted ;) Have a goodnight, lovely and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

This man was going to ruin you - either in a good way or in the worst way possible. You bit your lip as you texted him back.

Good night, handsome.

And with that, you locked your phone and tossed it onto the touch before you flung yourself out of the window. Who even were you right now?!

But you did know one thing - you really enjoyed talking with Eddie.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You spent the next couple of days flitting between his apartment and yours, opting to spend time over at his because one, you really just wanted to spend time with Biscuit, and two, his place was so cozy and warm.

You and Eddie started to spend your days texting back and forth and while you were ready to see him again but nervous at the same time. You'd been flirting back and forth and it was so much easier to be brave through a phone screen rather than face to face.

The night he was set to come home, you'd gone over to his place to cook dinner and feed your new kitty best friend. You hoped he'd enjoy a nice home cooked meal after having been gone for a bit.

You'd turned on the large television and put some true crime documentary on, cuddling Biscuit as you waited for him to arrive. Dinner and dessert was all ready and now you just needed him.

While thinking about him and all the possible scenarios that could possibly play out…you gave into the tired and heavy feeling and fell asleep. You were sprawled across the couch, the small cat cuddled against you, and snoring softly when Eddie walked through the door.

He was about to call your name but stopped in his tracks when he spotted you. A shiver of excitement ran down his spine as he dropped his bags by the door and toed off his boots before padding over to you. He kneeled down at your side, smiling softly when Biscuit peeked open an eye and grew excited to see him.

"Hey little girl," he picked her up and cuddled her to his chest as she purred loudly. The two of them definitely shared a special bond. She kept trying to rub against his hand in search of pets, "missed you too. Looks like you've been in good hands though."

She climbed onto his shoulder and as he delicately draped a blanket over your body. Part of him was tempted to wake you, but seeing you all comfy on his touch did something to him. Plus, and this little detail almost sent him in a tailspin, he noticed you were wearing a Corroded Coffin shirt…which he knew was one of his old ones from the few holes in the collar. You'd really made yourself at home…good.

"Sleep tight, lovely," he whispered softly before grabbing his bags and making his way to his bedroom. This was definitely a homecoming he could grow used to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up with a start, blinking away the sleep from your eyes as you looked around. Fuck. You were still in Eddie's apartment and it was…almost nine o'clock. Oh no. That meant Eddie was home, and you'd just been right asleep on his couch.

"Hey sleepyhead," you peeked over the back of the couch to find Eddie sitting at the kitchen bar, laptop in front of him and a plate of the food you'd cooked at his side, "nice to see you."

"Eddie," you almost squeaked out his name as you rolled off the couch in your scramble to get up. Eddie immediately jumped off the stool to make sure you were okay. You looked up at him in a daze, with a half smile on your face, "hi."

"Hi," he gently pulled you to your feet as you looked at him with wide eyes. He studied you for a moment before tugging on the hem of your - his - shirt, "I like the shirt. Looks cute on you."

"O-oh," your entire face felt like it was burning, "I'm sorry! My shirt got messy while I was cooking and I just grabbed a clean one from the dresser in the guest room and yeah…"

"Don't worry about it," he gently brushed his knuckles over your cheek, "looks better on you than it ever could on me."

You stared at your feet for a moment, trying to keep your brain from melting, "didn't take you for a Corroded Coffin fan."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow as he gestured to himself, "c'mon, don't insult me like that."

"So you are a fan?"

"A little more than that," he loved that you hadn't immediately put the pieces together, "its my band. Or at least it was until we retired or whatever you wanna call it."

"Holy…fuck," you smacked your forehead as he laughed, "you're…Eddie Munson."

"Hi, it's me," he grinned as he held up his hand in a small wave, "I'm the problem apparently."

"No, I-I umm, didn't realize," you bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at him shyly, "which seems silly but yeah…well, consider me floored and impressed that you, Eddie Munson, are my neighbor."

"Nothing to be impressed over," he was so ridiculously calm about everything, "but now you know-"

"Wait - was that why you were gone!?"

"Well, not entirely. I work as a producer a lot on the side these days," he confessed and you had to work so you didn't audibly sigh wistfully, "you know. But anyways, I'm glad to be home - to see you. How was she?"

"You already know she's the sweetest and cutest thing," you reached down and gently scratched the top of her head, "she was great company. But, umm, I'm glad to see you too."

He huffed in amusement, shaking his head. The silver hairs that were starting to come in somehow perfectly complemented the rest of his dark curls, "you didn't have to make dinner or anything…but I am more than thankful for it. It's been a long time since I've come home and someone's been there."

"Well, you just gotta let me know the dates and times and I'll be there," your heart was fluttering around happily as you tried to gauge his reaction.

"I'd love that," he reached over and gently turned your face up so you were looking into his pretty brown eyes, "I'd also love it if you'd let me take you out."

"Like a…date?" You wanted to melt into a puddle as soon as you asked. But his easy smile made your nerves go away.

"Yeah," he nodded, "just like a real date."

"I'd love to," internally you were screaming, externally you tried to appear as cool and calm as possible. You were desperately failing, "Eddie."

"Yes, lovely?"

"Will you ugh…umm," your voice sounded so small and pathetic, "will you kiss me?"

"Hell yeah," his entire face lit up as you relaxed, "been wanting to do that since the day we met."

"Yeah?" Your eyes turned wide as he leaned in closer, hands settling on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeah."

And then he kissed you. Finally.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #older!eddie #st

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