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threadbaresweater · 1 month

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one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan x reader

Arthur doesn't think you're interested in him any more than you're interested in fishing, which ain't much. You hope he shares even an inkling of the feelings you have for him. It's no surprise to anyone else in camp that there's something between the two of you, and they make sure you get a chance to show each other how you really feel.

The details: 3.9k words. Female reader with a backstory that isn't really elaborated upon in this fic but might be at a later date if I have the spoons; several gang members act as side-characters/wingmen (and women); alcohol and cigarette use; sex (pretty vanilla, but a little rough and intense). NSFW. This is also my first fic for a new fandom, so please be gentle with me. It's been a while.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grab at each other like it's the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you want more than what the other of you is able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

#arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader

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casuallyawkardd · 10 months

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Dating Miguel O'Hara NSFW

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Same thing as my other 'Dating Miguel O'Hara', this time for the grown ups

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! Sex, rough sex, oral sex, praising/degradation, breeding kink, consensual somnophilia, maybe angst if you squint, not fluent in spanish so correct me if I'm wrong on grammar/translations

A/N: I didn't use the same taglist as my past fics cuz idk how many of you are comfortable with this kinda stuff so please fill out my new TAGLIST if mature content is your thang 💅

First Time

Miguel would hold off until you're ready, honestly he's so busy he forgets how high his sex drive is and can get easily distracted. It's a week or so after you two became official and he can pick up on the signs. You're wearing something a little more revealing for date night, something to show off his favorite parts of you. Specifically your ass and thighs. Being a bit more touchy with a hand on his arm or leaning in close when he's talking.

He can even smell it on you, the faint scent of your pheromones making his head fuzzy. Hear how your heart beats a little faster when you invite him up to your place. The man has heightened senses, making him more perceptible to how your body reacts to him.

The first time he restrains himself a lot. Miguel is very much aware of what he's capable of, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. On top of that, he's a big guy. A big guy who's...proportional. In every aspect. It's a canon event. He's a lot to accommodate and he knows it, so he takes his time.

Preps you well for him. Fingers pressing past your lips, letting you suckle the digits until they're slick with saliva, only to then spread you open with two fingers. Three when he realizes you're tighter than he had expected. It gives him the chance to figure out what makes you tick. What places his fingers have to graze that make your hips buck against his palm. Where to curl them to make you moan louder and arch your back so your chest is flush with his. How fast he has to move them to drive you over the edge.

However, no amount of fingering can prepare you for what's to come. It's a stretch regardless, a dull burn as he bottoms out. The first time hurts, but at the same time you feel so full. It's a deliciously addictive sensation, the pain and pleasure mixing together. Miguel trails kisses along your neck and shoulder, praising you as you adjust.

"Mierda, you're so tight for me."

"Take me so well, cariño"

You learn very quickly how vocal this man is, a stark contrast to his usual quiet and brooding attitude. Moaning and grunting shamelessly when he begins to move. He reminds himself to hold back, but that doesn't stop him from thrusting deeply into you. Falling into a steady rhythm as he ruts his hips against yours. You're trapped under him, his forearms and sheer mass caging you in. Miguel can feel his control slipping and he fights it every step of the way.

The teeth nipping and marking your neck and shoulders moving to bite into the flesh of his wrists when his fangs come out. Gripping your sheets and pillows so he doesn't accidentally cut the skin of your hips with his claws. He wants to though. He so desperately wants to grab you so he can fuck you even harder, move you to his liking. Miguel notes that he'll have to get you new bedding, like the kind at his place, after ripping up your pillows and sheets.

He makes sure to treat you well so you come back for more, picking up on every request and plea until you reach your climax. As you flutter around his cock, you get a taste of just how rough he can be. Miguel adjusts his thighs to be under yours, lifting and angling your hips so he can reach deeper, if that's possible. The last few thrusts fast and creating the most obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin.

When he's spent, he moans right in your fucking ear to let you know. His head moves to rest on your chest as you both catch your breath, you combing your fingers through his hair and placing rewarding kisses on the dark curls. Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts his eyes to you, the red of them glowing in the low light.

"No crees que hemos terminado, ¿verdad?" You don't think we're done, do you?

Early On

It takes some time to convince him that he's not going to kill you while you two are having sex. While he thinks he'll cause irreparable damage, both mentally and physically, if he loses control, you on the other hand trust him unconditionally. He's a good guy, a superhero for crying out loud, you don't see any reason to doubt him until he gives you a reason to.

It starts with little things to boost his confidence. Hands on your hips when you ride him, letting him pull you down on his cock when you move at a teasingly slow pace. A hand tangled in your hair while he fucks your throat, encouraging you to take him deeper with every thrust harder than the last.

It all pays off one night after the two of you get into a fight. In hindsight, it was over something stupid. Some asshole had made some inappropriate comments about you and that riled him up. You, on the other hand, could care less. He was just some dumbass who was mad you turned him down. Who then became even more bitter when Miguel showed up and he saw who he was 'competing' with.

Maybe it was because you didn't care, or because Miguel was still riled up from the interaction, either way he had to take out his frustration somehow. You don't know how you ended up bent over the back of the couch, Miguel plowing into you with no remorse, but you loved it. Rough sex was never something you thought you'd be interested in, but having his claws tear your clothes from your body and his sharp fangs graze suggestively along your jugular makes you excited. Makes you want more.

"You're such a fucking brat, mi amor"

"Remember who makes you feel this good next time some cabrón decides to eye fuck you."

Once he's finished 'teaching you a lesson', his words not yours, he treats you the usual aftercare. Cleaning you with a warm washcloth, preparing a bath if you ask him to, combing his fingers through your hair and praising you for being so good. It's when you're going to bed you realize that he finally let loose. And like you said, he didn't kill you. Just left you with some bruising and maybe a few nicks from when he tore your clothes off.

You make a mental note to reward him with breakfast and some morning head tomorrow.

Favorite Things

In terms of what Miguel enjoys doing with you during your-ahem- alone time, where to even begin.

In terms of kinks, it's a given that he has a breeding kink. Even if you are unable to actually have kids, he still just loves cumming inside you. To the point that when he finally pulls out his cum leaks down your thigh and he has to push it back in with his fingers. If you can get pregnant, he gets off on the idea of you carrying his child. Belly swollen with his baby inside of you. Pride flaring up in his chest at the mere thought of it.

Somnophilia is an unexpected turn on for him. It makes sense, after having multiple nights where you expect him to be home, only for him to arrive after you'd gone to sleep, sexual frustration was bound to happen. You'd talk about it beforehand, making sure it's all consensual. He'd come home to find you already in bed, in nothing but one of his shirts. No underwear. His indicator to know you needed him. Watching you be roused by his cock sliding into you, the half asleep moans falling from your lips, he finds it both mesmerizing and adorable.

Using his fangs on you is a rare treat. You had expressed interest at one point, wondering what it'd be like to be completely at his mercy when his venom leaves you immobile. It's not his favorite, but in those rare instances where he wants to remind you that you're his and only his, it comes in handy. You enjoy the manhandling aspect of it, Miguel bending you into whatever position he desires so he can fuck you stupid.

Sex positions depend on his mood. If he's feeling romantic, he likes to be able to look into your eyes. Mating press, cowgirl, even modified versions of the missionary position are what he enjoys. He also provides more foreplay, spending what feels like forever just pleasing you with his fingers and mouth. Especially his mouth. He loves thighs, so feeling yours clench around his head turns him on to no end. One time even, your thighs were positioned in just the wrong way when clamping around his neck, cutting off blood flow and he passed out; you were both too lost in the moment to notice until his body went limp on top of you. Don't worry, you guys had a good laugh about it when he finally came to.

"Dying between your thighs would be the perfect way to go, mi vida."

When he's in a bad mood, it's a different story. It's usually after a rough day at work or if you're pissing him off by being a tease/bratty. His goal is to have you trapped between his body and whatever surface he chooses, varying from the bed, to the couch, the wall, etc. Doggystyle, full Nelson and flat iron are popular choices. He's rougher than usual too, pulling your hair, leaving more hickies than normal and his dirty talk is more degrading than praising. Foreplay is more of a way to assert dominance over you, overstimulating you into submission.

"One more, cum one more time for me. Te voy a joder estúpido, putito." I'll fuck you stupid, little whore.

This is also the time when injury is more likely to occur. Nothing major, puncture marks from his claws on your hips and scratches from his fangs grazing your shoulder. You don't accept his apologies after because there's nothing to be sorry for.

On and Off

There will most likely be a phase in the relationship where the two of you are struggling to keep said relationship afloat. While problems in the bedroom are rare, issues usually being not enough sex, the relationship outside of that can be rocky. The both of you are busy and finding time to spend together becomes harder and harder to do.

The reasons for breaking up can vary. Sometimes it's on his end, Miguel wanting to protect you from his life as Spider-Man and wanting you to be happy and not waiting on him. Other times you're the one to end things because he doesn't provide you with the attention you deserve or because you feel like a burden to him and his work. Either way, even when you're not together officially, it's hard for the two of you to keep your hands off each other.

Miguel shows up to your apartment multiple times, most of the time uninvited. It's always late, the sound of the window to your living room sliding open, followed by his heavy footsteps is enough to wake you up. When you step out of your room, he greets you like a man starved. Sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting your shirt to leave kisses down your stomach.

"Been missing you so much, necesito recordar el sabor de ti." need to remember the taste of you.

He's trying to butter you up and you know it. Whether it be you missed him too or you're too tired to argue, you fall for it almost every time. Letting him grasp the back of your thighs to lift you as he stands, making his way to your bedroom with you in his arms and lips pressed against yours.

You don't know which you like better, the sex when you guys aren't together or the makeup sex that follows. Every. Single. Time. It's always after something happens, ranging between him finding out you're starting to date other people again to one of you surviving a near death experience. Either way, it always starts the same.

Miguel shows up at your place, as usual, but instead of groveling for your forgiveness, he's fuming. Mad that you're looking at other guys and not him, mad that he almost lost you, mad that he was stupid for letting you go in the first place...either way he's pissed off. A possessive hand at the nape of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eye. Eye contact is very important to him.

"You're mine, cariño. I'm not letting you go ever again."

After some bickering and maybe even shouting, the interaction usually ends with you ass up over the nearest object while he pummels you with his thick cock. One of his hands restraining your hips while the other is snaked around your torso, his hand wrapped around your neck and his hot breath against your ear. It's an odd routine you've become used to, borderline unhealthy even. However, while the lows can be pretty low, the highs are oh so high. The good times make you fall for his tricks without question. Besides, you both know he's the one wrapped around your little finger.

Don't worry though, for the ride or dies, it all pays off in the end. The back and forth between you two settles and Miguel finds his permanent home between your thighs. As well as your heart, of course.

Tags:

@khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #smut #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara x reader smut

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tremendum · 10 days

Text

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Me and the Devil; prelude

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

previous next series masterlist

word count: 0.4k

summary: Paul becomes betrothed. You are ripped from your nest of darkness and shipped to a new world.

warnings: arranged marriage, mention of reader's family's assassinations.

notes: here's the prologue to my series from AO3 :') this has my own twist that will not follow canon. this is an endgame paul x reader, but will def have elements of feyd x reader mostly in flashbacks (i have a sickness im sorry he just Does It For Me). smut after several chapters, and very plot heavy. <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

In a shocking show of mercy, the High Council of the Landsraad has decreed the pardon of the last Bourbon:

After a month-long raid at the home planet Sabberon, the House of Bourbon has been eliminated, the Duchal family sentenced to death at the Harko Arena on Giedi Prime. The counter-insurgent attacks by House Harkkonen have been ruled by the Council as 'Penitent Crimes of Retaliation' following the damning allegations of espionage and theft of Harkonnen technology.

The House of Bourbon is succeeded only by the sole heiress and last daughter of the Count, whose betrothal to the na-Baron of House Harkonnen has been abruptly terminated by the High Court of the Landsraad.

The daughter, who carries the bloodline of both house Bourbon and House Ginaz, has by decree of the High Council of Landsraad been pardoned of the Harkkonen order of political imprisonment. The arraignment is set for a few weeks' time.

As once-standing political allies to the House Atreides, she is to be wed to the son of Duke Leto Atreides by the closing of the standard year.

- Collected Galactic News report sent to Duke Leto Atreides, 10191. Caladan.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

A muffled crash of falling plates somewhere in the castle rolls through the dampened halls. Paul doesn't bat an eye.

Servants pass by the corridors, carrying dishes, plates, crates filled to their brim. A celebration had been planned with the news of Duncan's return; a homecoming, an acceptance. From one Great House to another; but something has changed now. Something is much different than it should have been.

He knew there was something wrong when he was woken by his mother earlier than expected; No breakfast, no training, no lessons. He saw it on the faces that stared at him when he passed on his way here - the handmaids and servants whispered secretively in the halls.

And he knows it from the message his father has discarded, still open, on the desk in front of him; stamped by the High Council's signet.

The rain mars the windows outside as Paul Atreides stands, shellshocked, in his ceremonial uniform. If the raindrops were any louder, they may have drowned out the rapid stagger of his breath at the news.

"Married?"

The solemn faces stare back at Paul. "Yes." Lady Jessica affirms, eyes cool as she stares at her son.

He blinks away the shock, eyes flickering to the men in the room. "I thought Duncan was returning with the Count Bourbon and his family." Paul's brows furrow as he stares from Gurney to his father, confusion lacing his body. "Where is this coming from?"

A silence that is as tense as it is regretful.

"Their house has fallen. Duncan Idaho returns from Geidi Prime this evening."

Blood drains from Paul's face, his heart thumping. Why was Duncan returning from Geidi Prime - not the Bourbon's homeplanet, Sabberon? When the Swordsman had been deployed, there was not even a whisper or a word of marriage - not a single consideration of betrothal. He'd been told the expedition was to aid an old ally against the oldest foe Atreides has; The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

What a foolish thing to think.

"I am to be wed to..." Paul starts, but his sentence is interrupted by a choking of his own saliva - if he is to be wed, and his bride comes with Duncan... rage boils within.

Wed, to one of those monsters from Geidi Prime? Anger, hatred; it wars within him, turning up his stomach and burning the bile that rises.

He swallows thickly, schooling his expression. He's known this would happen eventually - to be a future Duke is to understand from a young age that marriage is not for love. It is for the good of the House, of their people.

Yes, he's always expected to marry out of convenience, out of strategy. But to be wed to... to...

"A Harkkonen?" Paul growls. The name spits from his mouth bitterly; Lost momentarily to his emotions, his sharp eyes cut to his father.

A slight tilt of the head, Leto Atreides declines the accusation of his son. "no."

A breath falls from Paul's lips.

"She is not a Harkkonen. She has resided there for nearly four years - she was to be wed to the Baron's nephew."

There's another silence, in which the rain slides down glass panes like tears.

"She's one of Idaho's." Halleck says off-handedly, shifting weight. Paul, in turn, stares at the man. His head swims in anger, confusion, shock. What does that mean?

Paul's bewildered stare must reflect poorly; his father sighs. "Her mother was the middle youngest of the House Ginaz. Duncan Idaho trained with her mother and father., it's why he insisted to go to Geidi Prime - she is the last of the House Bourbon."

Oh. Paul nods, clearing his throat. "And as part of the council's rulings..." His head hurts, heart racing, "Now, we will marry."

"We believe it is for the best. She was nothing but a political prisoner." Duke Leto reasons, his own decision raining down onto Paul's shoulders. "She is still close with her aunt, the concubine of Duke Ginaz. We need their alliance; it's strategic."

The council of Houses Major, choosing to whom Paul is to marry; what a twisted fate. Bitterness floods his mouth, made worse when his own Lady Mother speaks up. "The Reverend Mother finds it pertinent-"

But Paul doesn't hear much after this, besides the ringing in his ears. Your name echoes in his mind like a bell chiming in an empty hall; a plant of the Bene Gesserit.

All part of their political stratagem, and he, in the center of it; to be wed to a woman who was made for another. To be wed to one of the Harkonnen's beasts.

He meets his father's eyes, and they warn him.

Don't push it. What's done is done.

#paul atreides x you #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #dune fanfiction #dune smut #me and the devil; series

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yameoto · 6 months

Note

Haiii can you pls write a fic abt being rude to jordan all day which causes them to take their anger out on the reader at the end of the day and they’re just being really aggressive and manhandling?

FRUSTRATION. JORDAN LI.

✗ warnings ; dom!jordan, sub!reader, rough sex, dry humping, orgasm denial, brat taming. not proof read. wc ; 1.2k

THE last straw is the coffee. the fucking coffee.

the sick thing is that this time, you didn't even mean it. sure, your relationship was on pause. sure, you two had been exchanging barbed quips and jibes back and forth for the worse part of two weeks.

(there wasn't even a point to it, anymore—devolving into the most inane, stupid game of chicken; who can piss the other off more? but jordan is nothing but competitive — and you'd be damned if you let them show you up.)

but this time? you swore you were minding your business. like actual, cross your heart, hope to die—stick a cupcake in your eye. unfortunately for you, grade-school promises don't exactly stick up too well when you're standing in the middle of your dorm room doorframe; foaming, hot latte sopping into your favourite jacket. and bag. oops.

"are you fucking serious?" jordan's scowl is black, arms immediately flying out to shake their sleeves, to no avail. your mouth is already open — granted, not to apologise, but it doesn't matter much anyways when all of a sudden two hands are on your torso and you're being thrust onto a bed. you’re not exactly proud of the startled yelp that peels out of you, but fuck— jordan looks.. really fucking hot.

"you get off from pissing me off, or something?" jordan grunts, eyes flaring. there are the faintest hints of bags under their eyes, and a note of tension in their voice you've never heard before. you've clearly caught them at a bad time—even in the depths of this cold war between the two of you, they've never seemed this pissed — just.. mildly irritated.

"only sometimes." you snip back, instead, squirming as their hands dig into your shoulder. it's the wrong answer.

"no." jordan hisses, hand moving up to grip your jaw with a harsh squeeze. "no, no, no. none of that." they lean in, and abruptly you feel your heart jump to your throat; tensing at the indecipherable leer to their tone.

"here's what's gonna happen, baby," the endearment comes out a derisive snarl as their hand swallows your thigh, hiking your leg up and yanking you into a straddle over their leg.

"you're gonna hump my fucking thigh," jordan growls, edging in close, breath hot against your neck as if they're about to rip your throat out. "and you're gonna scream my name like a fucking banshee, got it?" they murmur, and you inhale, jaw slack at the sheer level of cruelty in their voice, and the unmistakable spike of heat that throbs your core.

unimpressed by your silence, jordan's hand constricts around the base of your neck, squeezing. "i said, got it?" they hiss, patience running thin, and you grunt—nails digging into your palms to restrain a wince, or god forbid—a whimper. "got it." you huff, annoyance forcing its way in your inflection as if you're not about to melt into a puddle all over their thigh. god, you've been waiting for this, waiting for this for so fucking long—a week without their touch has felt like a month without fucking water. not that you'd ever admit that, out loud.

a low, unreadable hum resounds from the back of jordan's throat. "well fucking hump, then, sweetheart." they say, voice low as their teeth nips against your skin. you take the hint—forgoing your pride and slowly beginning to grind against their leg, ache between your legs growing increasingly needy as you feed into its begging, pulsing throbs, little whines beginning to fall out of your mouth.

"i said fucking scream it," they hiss, lips latching onto your neck and sucking as your body begins to tremble, feeble whine releasing from your mouth, despite yourself. "i want everyone on the floor to know it's my fucking thigh you're rutting up against like a needy slut." they say, gaze hardening as you thrust yourself against them with a breathy moan, their tone alone making you course with need. "jordan—jordan, oh, fuck—" you gasp, hand fisting into the hem of their shirt.

"louder." jordan demands, a whisper. their fingers curl against your skin, hips bucking subtly at every mention of their name. you make a little noise of protest, but jordan's eyes flash— and you find yourself keening for their approval as you thrash in their lap, body trembling all over. "jordan—" you moan, back arching all while you grind urgently into their thigh, mind blanking. "jordan, jordan, jordan jordan—" the words spill in a shaky, hoarse slew of whines that fit perfectly around your lips, like their name was made for you. your body moves as mindless as your mouth, functioning only on one, single, primal, instinctual need.

jordan jordan jordan need need thigh fuck jordan fuck me fucking fuck me, already—

"i've felt like shit all week." jordan hisses, interrupting your highly intellectual thought process—though, they don't exactly look too cut up as you continue to hump their leg, eyes glassy and teary with want. you want more. you need more. you need them inside of you—"but you're gonna make it up to me, aren't you, doll?" jordan purrs, voice a rushed mumble as their hands dig into your waist. they forcibly jerk you forwards, wrenching your legs further apart so you're splayed across their groin instead of their thigh. this time, you can't help the audible whimper that leaves your throat. "then maybe i'll forgive you."

as if on cue, your pace speeds up with an excitable whine, burying your face under their chin. "please—more—" you force out, grasp on their hem tightening as you groan, loudly, hips bucking wildly against them. "need you— in me—" the words stumble out, shamelessly, barely comprehensible. jordan grins, and with dismay you realise they're shaking their head.

"oh, c'mon. you don't deserve it." they snort, and you whine at the sheer unjustness of it all. you were only mean for them for what? a week? a whole week of them not touching you, either—fuck, you need it—their fingers, their cock—anything to fill up the burning, pounding emptiness inside you, begging to be stuffed full. you open your mouth to protest, but jordan beats you to it. "you're gonna come on my fucking thigh, or you're not gonna come at all. okay, sweetheart?"

any potential complaints die in your throat, petering out to a dismal, shaky whine of defeat. you're still grinding furiously against them. frustrated grunts leave your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, mattress quaking in time with your thrusts. you have no drive to win against them, anymore. all you wanna do is fucking come.

jordan's grip on you eases, bit by bit as you make a show of yourself — pants and whines spilling from you as you bury yourself deep into jordan's chest and just rut, like the useless thing you are. it's sad, it's needy, it's desperate; and the thing is you fucking can't— it's not enough. you need jordan. you need them.

the whimper that drifts from you even smaller than the ones before, and in an instant, your pants die— and you crumple into a breathless heap upon their chest. it still aches, dull throb between your legs left to pulse and groan out in need. you feel gross, and sticky, and sleepy. this is what you get, really, for thinking you could fuck around with jordan and get away with it.

"are you still mad at me?" you mumble into the crook of jordan's neck, fabric of their shirt still bunched up in your fists. "..jords..?" you mutter, and jordan smiles at the way your words slur, thighs still shaking, their pretty baby taught a lesson. "oh, doll." they grin, hand sliding along chest— your hipbone— the band of your underwear.

well. maybe there's still hope for you, yet.

#(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works !#૮ smut🔞#inbox !#jordan li #jordan li x reader #jordan li fanfic #jordan li headcanons #jordan li smut #gen v #gen v smut #gen v x reader #gen v fanfic #gen v headcanons

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wingedjellyfishflight · 6 months

Text

The Bang Game

Ghost hated being paired with a female sniper. He thought Price was joking at first, and he tried his hardest to force you to wash you out. You refused to quit, despite ending up in medical several times due to his abusive tactics. You always made up a cover story for it, though. He didn't know that for weeks until a nurse asked him to look out for you and your clumsiness.

When he did give in, it was all-encompassing. No one else was allowed to hurt or push you, or they would face his wrath. A game developed between the two of you. "Who is the sneakier sniper?" The goal was to sneak up on the other without being seen until you touch them or whisper, "bang" in their ear. This has led to both you and Ghost being impossible to find for days and sometimes weeks at a time when between missions. At first, the competition was who could sneak up on others, but the wheezing and heart clutching that Price did when you whispered "bang" and Ghost stood up a few feet away, cursing you out, scared you both a bit too much, so you agreed to limit it getting each other.

Ultimately, this has led to some rather uncomfortable situations between you and a building tension as you see each other in more and more compromising situations. The first time you see Ghost taking his mask off, you stand up, covering your eyes, game be damned. He startles, then realizes what you are doing. "Luv, just look and be done with it. No secrets between us, now." You brace yourself, then lower your hands, drinking in every inch of his face before he lowers the mask back over it. "Now, get out." You nearly run from the room with a blinding smile on your face.

When you felt a caress while touching yourself in your bed a week later, you had to bite back a moan. Ghost's eyes were wide, pupils blown, watching your every move. Covering yourself, you sent him packing, evening ruined and feeling guilty thinking that his name was what you were chanting in your head.

A week later, you sneak under his bed to wait for him. He walks in hours later, locking the door behind him, and takes off his mask, hanging it up. Laying back on his bed with his boots flat on the floor, you hear him unbuttoning his pants. You flush, trying to ignore the sounds of him slowly stroking himself, but fail, feeling your body heat up. After what feels like an immensely long time, you hear, "You gonna tap out or join in, Luv?" Sliding out on your belly and standing, you glance at the locked door before turning to face him.

"You sure, Ghost? Can't turn back once you fuck me," you say with a wink, confidence pouring off of you, despite the nervousness in your gut. Your eyes feel nearly locked onto his cock as he slowly strokes up and down.

He growls, "I'm not worried. You're stuck with me now." You nod and unlace your boots, toeing them off, then begin unbuttoning your pants. He stands, pressing his cock into your stomach, and wraps his long fingers around your wrists. "Allow me." When you pause, he grabs your shirt and rips it off of you. Your noise of protest goes unacknowledged, but he is less destructive with the rest of your clothes, carefully unhooking your bra and tugging your panties off.

You reach for his hem and push his hands away when he tries to help. Slowly lifting it, you kiss each scar that is revealed. Once you have it off, you push him back down onto his bed and jerk his pants out of the way. You straddle his thighs and lean in for a kiss. "Last chance to back out, Ghost." He smirks at your teasing grin.

"Ride my cock, Luv. Show me what you've got." You line yourself up, slowly sinking down on his long cock. The grin is gone by the halfway point, replaced by a look of concentration as he fills your passage to its limits. When your hips meet, your cunt is already clenching tight around him. "Attagirl, takin my whole cock. You gonna cum on me already? C'mon, move your hips." He smirks at you, thinking he may have to take over and show you what a man can do.

You growl at his cocky attitude and start moving quickly, squeezing tightly as he slides in. His smirk is wiped away, and with every roll of your hips, it becomes clear to Ghost that he will not last long. He pulls you down into a kiss before flipping you on all fours so he can take charge. He drives deep into you, lifting your hips until he finds an angle that makes you whimper excitedly. Sighing in relief internally, he reaches down to tease your clit. "That's it, Luv. Cum for me." He drives harder into that spot and you try and fail to form words, looking back at him over your shoulder, which he delights in. "Fuckin you dumb just might become my new favorite thing after all." His smirk is back in full force. If he times it right, he knows, he can make you cum twice.

Suddenly, you're over the edge, gripping his cock tight inside and squirting on his stomach. The sudden splash across his abs makes him positively feral. He drives hard and fast into you, cock throbbing as he lets loose, filling your cunt with cum.

"Sorry, tried to warn you," you pant back at him with a wry grin, collapsing onto your front with a sigh.

"Never fuckin warn me, Luv. You were right. God damn addicting." He carefully pulls out and stands up. He finally undresses, taking off his boots and clothes. He cleans you with the remains of your shirt, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Pulling away, you start to get up only for him to press you back down. "You're not gonna run off now. Nobody'll miss us for at least a day or two. You can spend the night, though I won't guarantee much sleep." The feeling when he wraps his entire body around yours, nuzzling into your shoulder, is almost as good as sex. You've never known Ghost to be this gentle and this affectionate, but you could definitely get used to this in the privacy of his quarters. And the way he kisses your neck has you already well on the way to round two.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod smut

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www-jungwon · 5 months

Text

in which roommate!heeseung insists on decorating, and you're sure he's up to something (why has he got so much mistletoe?) ୨୧

tw. yellinggg, kissing, idk what rlly went through my head when writing this its kinda cringe bro wc. 887

“ok, i give up.” heeseung looks over in confusion, holding a box of christmas decorations in his hand.

“just tell me! i give up.”

“what are you talking about?” he squints, shifting the box in his arm.

you shift on the couch agitatedly, pausing your tv show. “why are you hanging all these up? like, do you want my room, or you feel bad because you broke something that’s mine, or you’re trying to hint you want-”

“it’s for christmas spirit!”

you roll your eyes. you’ve been trying to figure out your roommate’s obsession with decorating the apartment for the last week, but every time he’s answered with the same response. ‘christmas spirit.’ christmas spirit your ass. you’ll figure it out, you just need a couple more days.

“sure.”

he raises his eyebrows innocently. “i don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

“maybe because in the 3 years we’ve lived together you haven’t ever even lifted a finger to help me put decorations up?”

he shrugs. “change of heart.”

definitely up to something.

–

heeseung is being weird. he keeps trying to hide his decorations when you walk in on him, like he’s scared of you seeing them. even though you’ll see them anyway, because it’s your apartment.

after seeing him drop his box for the third time in two days, it clicks. a party. that explains his controlling of the decorations to look his way, and the secret phone calls he’s been making. you absolutely hate crowds, and your one rule the only time you’ve lived here has been no parties. he’s never complained before, but you suppose he’s finally gotten tired.

you’ve never felt more betrayed. heeseung, the most considerate roommate you’ve ever had, heeseung who keeps track of the amount of chocolate in your storage, heeseung who buys you things just because they reminded him of you, heeseung who is in charge of all the groceries, no discussion. heeseung, who you think you might be in love with, that heeseung, trying to throw a holiday party in your apartment without your permission when you leave tomorrow.

and as you see him emerge from the doorway, his head brushing the mistletoe he hung, fiery anger builds up inside you. how dare he hum, act all normal like you didn’t just watch him try to hide his decorations, how dare he do this secretly, how dare he make you love him while he’s betraying you like this?

so when he asks what you want him to make for dinner, you want to hit him in the face.

“you what?” he asks, and the way his nose scrunches in confusion only makes you angrier, and you snap.

“lee heeseung, i hate you!”

his doe eyes widen in surprise.

“what? i-”

“you’re so stupid! i can’t believe you would do all this just for a stupid holiday party! over me!”

you’ve stepped up to him, him backing up slightly as you walk forward.

“i don't know what-”

“and i wouldn’t have cared if you just asked! i’m not even gonna be here! but i thought that you at least cared about me enough to ask instead of sneaking around.”

“y/n, i-”

“and you find it so amusing when i ask you why, and this whole time it’s been for a party? you’ve been lying to me, sneaking around, just so you can throw a party without my permission? do i mean that little to you,” your words are choked by a sob, “that little, that-”

“y/n, i promise i-”

“that little, that a party is more important to you than me.” tears cross down your cheeks, tracing over the edges of your face.

heeseung’s brows are furrowed now, a concerned frown pushed onto his face. “y/n, i swear-”

how dare he act concerned, when it’s his fault.

a yell rips out of you, “you don’t get to care about me now! not after, not after this, not after i’ve spent three years loving you and you’ve just thrown all my trust away for a party.”

he’s broken now, you can see it on his face in the way his brows are drawn in and you know you’ve hurt him, and you feel awful. he watches you carefully, taking a deep breath before he moves almost imperceptibly closer.

“y/n.”

you sniff weakly, “yeah?”

his voice is soft with hurt. “i love you, too. and i’d never throw a party without your permission, and it wasn’t that, and i’m sorry i was being so secretive but i promise it wasn’t because of that and i think- i think you should look up.”

you hadn’t realized how close you were to him now, your hands brushing his. you turn your head up slowly, your lips almost pressing against his, and you see it.

the mistletoe.

“i love you, y/n. and i thought- i wanted to tell you, before you left and i didn’t know how, but since you were always decorating instead of me doing anything i wanted to do something nice for you, and then i realized maybe if i could put mistletoe up then you would get the hint and i wouldn’t have to say anything.”

his arms slide around your waist tentatively, pulling you into him, and you look down, falling into him as your lips push into his.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

part of winters of us, an advent calendar : day 009 prev

extremely late sry

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist !

general @bucketofhiros @addictedtohobi @ariadores enhypen @cutesiepatootsie @sammm5225 @eupherbia

#❄️ — winters of us.#enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung angst #heeseung fluff #enha x reader #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enha imagines #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung

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heartsandhischier · 1 month

Text

Rinkside Romance

nico hischier x reader

summary - 3.2k words. Y/N, an author has an unexpectant meeting with the captain of the New Jersey Devils, Nico Hischier

note - this is my first writing ever, so I hope you all like it :)

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a rich symphony of scents mingling with the soft murmur of conversation that enveloped the quaint little coffee shop. The sound of the coffee machines whirred in harmony with the gentle hum of patrons bustling about, seeking respite from the chilly evening.

Amidst the comforting ambience, Y/N found herself engrossed in the world of her latest novel, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she wove her characters through the last paragraph of the chapter. Her hands moved swiftly, navigating the keys with practiced ease, each click punctuated by the rhythmic beat of the nearby espresso machines.

As she reached for her steaming cappuccino, her heart skipped a beat, realizing the cup was empty. With a sense of urgency to maintain her creative momentum, she hurried to the counter, her mind already lost in the world of her story. “Another one?” the barista questioned, his voice rising above the din of orders being shouted out and the hiss of steam from the machines. Y/N nodded, a smile playing on her lips as she slid him the empty cup across the counter.

Her gaze wandered across the bustling cafe, taking in the familiar faces and comforting atmosphere that had made it her sanctuary since moving to New Jersey. But then, her attention was captured by a figure across the room – a man whose rugged charm and quiet confidence seemed to draw her in.

His hand swept his dark hair away from his face, revealing warm brown eyes that met hers with a sparkle. Their eyes met briefly, and in that fleeting instant, the moment felt like a page ripped from one of her books. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, he held her gaze, momentarily suspending time itself. It felt as though the world had quieted, leaving only the two of them in a shared moment of serenity amidst the chaos.

“Cappuccino for Y/N!” snapping back to reality as her name was called, Y/N collected her fresh cappuccino, thanking the barista with a nod of gratitude. As she grabbed the cup, she turned back to look for the stranger with the big brown eyes. To her surprise, he was still there, seemingly frozen in time, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on her as she smiled. With a last shy smile, Y/N returned to her booth, unaware that destiny was about to intertwine.

Puck Drop and Bar Hops

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself amidst a lively crowd at a local sports bar, her friend had begged her to come as she wanted to show her the life, the energy, and the love the city had for their sports team. Tonight it was a hockey match, the new jersey devils against the dallas stars. Y/N didn't know too much about the sports, but kept her eyes glued to the screen as she struggled to keep up with where the puck was. No matter the extent of her knowledge or lack thereof, her friend was right, the energy was impeccable as the whole bar rustled and shaked as the team scored goal after goal. Cheers and glasses of beer clinking together as the New Jersey Devils won 5-2. “See! It wasn't too bad getting out of your apartment to experience this right?” Jessica chimed, she had in fact struggled to get Y/N out of the apartment as she went on about wanting to finish the chapter she was currently engrossed in. Y/N stuck her tongue out mockingly as they both laughed, “Come on! You need to come out more, explore the city, not just your apartment and the coffee shop! It might even give you some inspiration for your books,”

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself amidst a lively local sports bar, her friend Jessica having begged her to come out and experience the vibrant energy and passion the city has for their sports team. Tonight, it was a hockey match–the New Jersey Devils against the Dallas Stars. Y/N didn’t know too much about the sport, nevertheless kept her eyes glued to the screen as she struggled to keep up with the whereabouts of the puck. No matter the extent of knowledge or rather lack thereof. Jessica’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Y/N couldn’t help but get swept up in the excitement as the whole bar erupted in cheers with each goal scored by the Devils. The atmosphere was electric, with glasses clinking together and jubilant chants filling the air as the Devils secured a decisive 5-2 victory.

“See! It wasn’t too bad getting out of your apartment to experience this right?” Jessica chimed, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. Y/N playfully stuck her tongue out in response, joining in the laughter that bubbled between them.

“Come on! You need to go out more, explore the city, not just your apartment and the coffee shop! It might even give you some inspiration for your books,” Jessica continued, nudging Y/N with a playful elbow.

As they chatted and celebrated, Jessica leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, this bar is where the team usually comes to unwind after games,” she revealed, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get to meet some of the players.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door swung open, causing a wave of cheers to erupt from the fans in the bar as all heads turned to face the entrance. The atmosphere crackled with excitement as a group of familiar faces made their grand entrance–the New Jersey Devils themselves.

They were greeted with enthusiastic pats on the backs and a flurry of “Go Devils!” from the triumphant fans as they navigated through the bar, basking in the adoration of their supporters. Among them, Y/N’s gaze was immediately drawn to a pair of unmistakable brown eyes, their warmth and familiarity sparking a sudden surge of recognition within her.

Her heart raced as she watched the players move through the crowd, their presence commanding attention and admiration from everyone present. Could it truly be him? The realization sent a thrill through her, igniting a spark of home and curiosity that she couldn't ignore.

“They’re cute right!” Jessica giggled next to her, her eyes glued to the players now standing by the bar. Y/N turned around in confusion, as her friend pried her eyes away from the players ordering drinks and beers. “Y/N you were quite literally drooling,” Jessica laughed, as a heath rushed to Y/N cheeks.

Caught off guard, Y/N blushed hard as she attempted to regain her composure. “I, uh, I guess so,” she stammered, her gaze flitting nervously between Jessica and the group of athletes at the bar.

Jessica leaned in closed, her continuing to eye the players. “I think Timo Meier is pretty cute,” she admitted with a playful grin. “But, oh my god, have you seen the captain? He’s also Swiss, like Timo, and he was a first-round draft pick. And those big brown eyes? Endearing as hell!”

As the evening wore on, Jessica couldn’t help but gush about the players pointing them out amidst the crowd. Y/N listened intently, her eyes skipping a beat as Jessica rambled on about their captain, Nico, pointing to a tall familiar figure. With a jolt of recognition she realized that Nico, the captain Jessica has been raving about, was the same guy from the coffee shop. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she stole a glance in Nico’s direction, her mind racing with newfound understanding.

Suddenly, a bartender approached their table, a tray of drinks in hand. “These are from one of the players,” he announced with a wink. “Lucky you!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as she glanced over to the bar, spotting the hockey player with the familiar brown eyes. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins as she quietly thanked herself for agreeing to go out today.

Emboldened by the gesture, Y/N found herself drawn to the bar, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a big swig of her drink and approached the handsome stranger. With a warm smile, she thanked Nico for the drinks, her voice steady and sure. Nico’s laughter filled the air, a melodic sound that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone warm and inviting.

Before she could say anything else, he extended his hand with a charming grin. “I’m Nico,” he introduced himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Y/N felt a rush of nerves as she struggled to respond, the weight of Nico’s presence catching her off guard, and in the heat of the moment without thought she blurted out an awkward “I know,” immediately cringing at her own words. Nico’s laughter only grew louder, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, it’s nice to meet you again, ‘I know’,” he teased gently, his easy going demeanor putting her at ease.

Blushing furiously, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the tension of the moment melting away in the warmth of their shared laughter. “Sorry, that probably sounded weird,” she chuckled nervously. “My friend just told me about the team and their captain, and then I realized it was you and…” you rambled on as you tried to explain yourself as the awkwardness you felt lingered. Nico shook his head, his smile widening as he interrupted your panic. “Not at all. It’s kind of cute actually,” he reassured her, his gaze warm and reassuring.

Relieved by his response, Y/N felt her nerves begin to ease. “Thanks,” she replied, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “So, uh, what brings you to the bar tonight?” she asked, eager to keep the conversation flowing.

As the evening progressed, the conversation between Y/N and Nico flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared laughter and easy banter. Y/N occasionally glanced over at her friend Jessica, ensuring she was enjoying herself, only to find her deeply engaged in conversation with Timo Meier, the player she has pointed out earlier.

Feeling a surge of happiness for her friend’s newfound connection, Y/N turned her attention back to Nico. With each passing minute, she found herself drawn further into Nico’s magnetic presence. Her initial nervousness gave way to a growing sense of comfort and excitement. And as the night wore on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this unexpected encounter was just the beginning of something truly special.

Jersey lights and Italian Delights

The clicking of Y/N’s heels echoed across the lobby of her apartment building as she nervously adjusted her dress, the sleek black fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. She had opted for a longer dress at Jessica’s suggestion, feeling a bit out of her comfort zone in such formal attire, especially for a date. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As she descended the steps, her heart raced with anticipation. There he was, leaning against the sleek black car, his brown hair swept back, revealing those familiar and warm brown eyes. When he spotted her, his face lit up with a smile that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Hey there, ‘I know’,” he greeted her, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “You look stunning!”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush at his compliment as she approached him, his arms wrapping around her waist in a comforting embrace. Meeting his gaze, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you,” she replied softly, her heart racing with excitement. “Ready for our date?”

Their first date was nothing short of magical – a candlelit dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, where time seemed to stand still as they delved into deep conversations and shared intimate stories. Amidst the flickering candlelight, Nico and Y/N’s connection only grew stronger as the night went on.

As their relationship progressed, Y/N and Nico found themselves drawn to familiar places that held special memories for them. None more so than the cozy quaint coffee shop where they had first locked eyes.

“One cappuccino for my favorite author!” Nico’s voice rang out cheerfully as he approached their table, bearing two steaming cups of coffee. Y/N glanced up at the brown haired man, a smile tugging at her lips at his playful remark. Accepting the coffee, she savored the rich aroma before taking a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her. “Well, thank you, my favorite hockey player in the NHL,” she quipped in return as he settled into the booth opposite her. Nico chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah, I’d better be,” he teased, reaching across the table to gently brush his fingers against hers.

Their playful banter was interrupted by the familiar sound of Y/N’s phone buzzing with a notification. It was an email about her book release event, scheduled for the following week. Excitement bubbled up inside her as she shared the news with Nico. “I’d love for you to come,” she said, her voice tinged with anticipation. “It would mean the world to me to have you there.” Nico’s response was immediate and unwavering. “Of course I’ll be there,” he said, his brown eyes filled with sincerity.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

As the day of the book release event arrived, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. Sitting at the table where she signed copies of her book for eager fans, her heart was fluttering with each interaction. Amidst the bustling atmosphere, she couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure in the line. It was Nico, patiently waiting with a copy of her newly released book clutched to his chest.

When Nico finally approached her table, his eyes lit up with excitement as he handed her his copy of her book. “Hey there ‘I know’,” he greeted warmly, a grin spreading across his face, “I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on a signed copy of this book. I’ve heard the author is amazing!”

Y/N chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through her. She signed his copy, adding a little extra flourish with a heart next to her signature.

“Well, a little special signature for my favorite fan then!”

As the event came to a close, Y/N stood up from her seat, approaching Nico who had been engaging with her fans and colleagues throughout the evening. She smiled at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for being here,” she spoke softly. “Having you by my side means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Nico pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

“No matter what.”

From Ice to Ink

Amidst the whirlwind of her book release and hectic schedule, Y/N found herself attending her first hockey game at the Prudential Center in New Jersey. Adorned in Nico’s jersey, proudly displaying the number 13 on her back, she felt a sense of pride and excitement as she entered the arena to support Nico and the New Jersey Devils as they faced off against the Nashville Predators.

Welcomed by a friendly security guard, Y/N was guided to the room reserved for the players’ wives and girlfriends, where she was warmly greeted by the other women. Engaging in conversation and camaraderie, she felt a sense of belonging among them, despite it being her first time attending a game. As the game started, Y/N found her seat alongside the other wives and girlfriends, excitement filled the air. And Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched Nico and the Devils take to the ice.

As the game unfolded, the tension in the area was palpable. The Predators put up a strong fight, but the Devils matched them stride for stride. The score remained close throughout the game, with both teams trading goals in a back-and-forth battle. Y/N watched with bated breaths as Nico and his teammates fought tirelessly on the ice. The energy in the arena was electric, with fans on the edge of their seats as the team vied for control of the game.

Finally, in the third period, with the score tied, Nico seized a golden opportunity. As the puck soared into the back of the net, the arena exploded with cheers and applause. Amidst the jubilant roar of the crowd, Nico’s celebration was a sight to behold. With a leap of sheer exhilaration, he raised his arms triumphantly, his face radiant with joy.

Turning towards the stands, his gaze found Y/N amidst the sea of cheering fans. A wide smile spread across his face as he blew her a kiss, a gesture filled with love and appreciation. In that moment, amidst the deafening roar of the crowd, it was as if time stood still, and their connection shone brightly for all to see.

As the final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game, the scoreboard read: New Jersey Devils 4, Nashville Predators 3. The Devils had emerged victorious in a hard-fought battle, much to the delight of fans in attendance.

After the game Y/N waited patiently with the other women in the lounge as the players headed to the locker room. Y/N couldn’t resist checking social media for highlights of the game. To her surprise, she stumbled upon a clip of Nico’s post-game interview, “The celly you did after your goal was terrific,” the interviewer remarked. “That kiss into the crowd was that planned? Perhaps directed at someone?”

Nico’s smile widened as he responded, “Well, it was a special moment for me. It’s actually my girlfriend’s first game here, so I just wanted to show her a little extra love.”

Watching the interview, Y/N felt a rush of emotion as Nico publicly referred to her as his girlfriend for the first time. When Nico finally emerged from the locker rooms, she couldn’t contain her excitement, rushing to greet him with a big hug and congratulations on the win and his goal.

“So, I’ve been upgraded from ‘I know’ to girlfriend now, huh?” she teased playfully.

Nico chuckled, his eyes filled with affection. With a gentle smile, he pulled away and reached into his suit pocket, retrieving something special from the night - a puck. It was inscribed with the words “Y/N’s first game” in white marker.

“Well, it would be my pleasure if you’d want that promotion,” he replied, his gaze locked onto hers with those captivating brown eyes as he presented her the puck.

Y/N was feeling ecstatic, with a surge of happiness she chuckled with excitement and nodded eagerly. As their eyes met, he grinned and leaned in to give her a tender kiss, sealing the moment with a promise of more to come.

#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nico hischier fanfic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils imagine #njd #nj devils

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benkeibear · 1 year

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⋆꙳✧༄ Their hand slips - apology

❖ Character: Mikey, Nahoya, Draken

꒰ ͜͡➸The fight | ꒰ ͜͡➸Taiju/Hanma/Kazutora | ꒰ ͜͡➸Ran/Rindou/Sanzu

❖ Reader: genderneutral

❖ Wordcount: 2.4k

❖ Summary: What happens after their hand slipped? Can they fix your relationship?

❖ WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and reader getting hit once

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi!

☰ Mikey:

When Sanzu finally reached you, your cheeks were stained by tears, your beautiful face was all puffy from crying over a man who didn't deserve you or your kindness. His hand reached for your wrist so you would stop walking away. „Please… Let me drive you home“ he mumbled softly, knowing all too well how you feel, given that he was in your shoes once when he was a child. You agreed to his offer and let the pink haired man drive you to your- now only Mikey's place. „I- i can't stay here Haru“ you mumbled when you stepped inside the place you once called home, now merely resembling four walls with a roof.

He understood exactly what you meant and helped you pack without another word shared between the two of you. Getting all your stuff out will also clear Mikey’s head, it will make him realize that his actions do in fact have consequences, leader of bonten or not. He has lost you and he needs to feel it to properly understand what this means.

Mikey was miserable, not only did he hit his head against the concrete floor numerous times, he even needed medical help because of it and his memory was lacking due to the repetitive impact of his skull against the floor. „You can’t see them Mikey… In fact, i don’t think you will ever see them again“ Kakucho said serious, wishing he could strangle Mikey for what he’s done to you when all you ever did was to care for him, when he was too busy to do so himself.

That night Mikey returned to a dark house, the smell of your lovely dinner didn't fill his senses when he entered and the bed was cold and empty. He hated every second of this, not believing that he actually hit you. It took him hours to fall asleep but his dreams weren’t soothing him either, waking up completely drenched in his own sweat and reaching for you, needing your loving embrace… Right, he hit you, you’re gone. The realization sat in and it felt like someone ripped his heart right out of his chest. When he touched his cheek he found it to be wet, tears slipping across them, it’s like yours did earlier at exactly the same spot. This was when Mikey knew he had to change, that he needs to get better in order to get you back into his life somehow.

Weeks went by and you got used to living with Sanzu, the thought of living completely alone felt like dying to you. Yet you never once heard of Mikey and neither did anyone else. Just when everyone assumed the worst, a bouquet of flowers with a small note attached arrived - addressed to you, by Mikey.

„My dearest love, please forgive me for what I’ve done. There are no words in any language to apologize and beg for your forgiveness, let alone to justify my behavior. If you find it in you to face me one last time, I would be eternally grateful. This sunday at the place we met, i will be there until it's dark - Forever yours, Manjiro“

You sighed heavily as you read the small card, unsure if you even want to see him again but it was Sanzu that convinced you into showing up with him together. Once the dreaded day rolled around you got ready and couldn't stop shaking the whole way there. When you arrived at the small bridge close to a shrine you were almost hiding behind the pink haired man who eventually pulled you in front of him so you could face Mikey. He would be there to protect you if Mikey acted out but the man standing in front of both of you was almost like a stranger to you. He was well put together, looking like he slept better and ate more… He almost looked happy but the heartbroken expression upon setting his eyes on your frame told you otherwise.

As if he suddenly forgot how to speak, his mouth was opening and closing like a fish on dry land, he just stood in front of you, his hands slowly reaching towards yours only to fall limp to his side. You gave him a chance to explain himself and apologize, listening to the man you still loved with all your heart. Mikey was a miserable pile at the end of it, eyes red and puffy as he sank down to the floor, mentally preparing himself to watch you leave a second time - What he didn't expect was your soft hand stroking his cheek and holding your hand out to help him up. „I can't just move on but i will forgive you. You’ve changed, i see that and i'm willing to give you a second chance to let you prove that you've changed“ You mumbled softly and Mikey nodded, understanding that you need time but he would give you all the time you need, wanting to prove that he's a better man now and that he truly loves you.

☰ Nahoya:

The moment you closed the door you immediately called Souya so he could come and pick you up, which he of course did - You were like a sister to him after all. Hearing you cry into his brother's shoulder just outside of his place broke his heart further, making him feel like he gets choked with barbed wire, only for this burning rage to boil up deep inside of him. During this rage he felt helpless, not able to understand how he could have done that, what made his brain think that this is a smart choice and this feeling of helplessness and utter sadness drove him to the brink of insanity, trashing his place.

When you arrived at Souyas place, which wasn't far away from your now ex-boyfriends, he made you some comfort food before sitting with you on the couch and just letting you cry and scream. He hated to see you this upset, unsure how he could even help you, so all he did was to be there for you and listen to everything you had to say or be the shoulder to cry on - he even let you choose all the plushies you want to cuddle with from his room in a desperate attempt to make you comfortable. While he despised Nahoya for what he's done, Souya would never say a bad thing about him to you, agreeing that what he did was disgusting but his brother isn't a monster and this was -hopefully- just a one time incident.

The peach haired man spent days inside his apartment before he even dared to show up at his restaurant again, looking like a shell of his former self and his signature smile had completely vanished, looking like a much sadder version of Souya. His skin wasn't as thick as it used to be, every little thing annoying him and getting him to explode but he tried not to let anyone see this part, punching bags of flour or rice in the back just to get this rage out of him. His past actions are always running through his mind, how he couldn't see what he had in front of him and always flirting around as if he would find anyone better, but you were there all along. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand how you even put up with him a single day of your life, how you saw the good in him when there wasn't anything to be seen.

From that day on other people became the least interesting thing to him, not even looking at the women anymore even if they so obviously flirted with him or tried to get his attention. On some days he just ignored them but when his nerves were starting to wear out he would snap at them to leave him alone, that he had a partner already. That's usually when the realization hit - he didn't, not anymore. Every night he returned to a cold bed and he swore that it got colder every night without you at his side.

Souya eventually had enough of the way he was beating himself up and the way you so religiously avoided the restaurant so you won't end up seeing him, but he had a plan, inviting you over as Nahoya was looking through the storage room. Of course the door accidentally locked itself when you went to get a bag of rice for the blue haired man, almost jumping out of your skin when Nahoya was in there as well. Great. The last person you wanted to see was locked in with you, making a mental note to drown Souya in his own Ramen once you get out of there.

The moment Nahoya took a step towards you, looking like a beaten puppy you took a can from your left and threw it right in his face. He didn't even try to stop the impact from happening, nor did he say anything to the cruel words spilling from your lips, knowing you were right. He did treat you terribly and he couldn't do anything but take everything you're giving him right now, deserving everything coming from you. “I never want to feel your disgusting hands on me again” you spat and as much as he acted like it didn't hurt, it felt like a knife to his heart but he understood and respected it, not moving at all as you threw everything at him - words, objects, it didn't matter to him.

Only when you ran out of ammunition, you felt helpless and trapped, tears staining your beautiful face as you started to cry which gave him the last blow. He sank down to his knees, approaching you like a broken man “I don't want anyone but you” he whispered as he wiped away the tears despite the fight you were putting up with and swatting his hands away. The sound of your sobs filled the room but you weren't alone, the once so happy man hasn't been the same since the incident, crying with you now as promises spill from his lips, promising to be better and that he can be the man you need if you just give him one more chance and as much as you wanted to hate him - you just couldn't. Next to that, Souya probably won't let you two out until everything is okay again.

So all you can do is sniffle and nod, a frown appearing on your face again upon seeing the black eye slowly forming due to your attack on him moments ago. “I guess we're even now” you whisper as you press the softest kiss on his closed eyelid.

☰ Draken:

Draken didn't want you to leave, that was the last thing he ever wanted and he could feel his heart clench in time with the door falling shut as he sank to his knees. The wave of emotions that came over him was too much to handle, fear, heartache, anger, sadness… His hands brought pain to others from time to time but never to you. The way he lost control over his own actions was what made him so angry with himself but once these initial emotions ebbed off, it was as if a veil of fog was lifted and he clearly saw just how poorly he has been treating you these past few weeks. Emma's death day creeping closer left him feeling on edge but it was no reason to behave like a monster. The way he kept comparing you to her or the way he thought of Emma bouncing on his lap when it was in fact you left him feeling embarrassed, humiliated of his own mind. It was enough to disgust himself, a fist connecting with the sturdy wall at each mistake he made over the past week.

He spent the night tossing and turning in bed until he gave up on sleeping to tend to his beloved punching bag to punish himself for hurting you. How could he have compared the person he loved with his whole heart to his ex - no matter the circumstances she left and he knew that he had to fix this, to let go of the woman haunting his mind.

In the morning Draken peeled himself from the floor where he eventually fell asleep and made his way to Emma's grave, wanting to let go for real this time but he didn't expect to see you sitting in front of the tombstone with tear stained eyes, having a conversation with his former girlfriend. You were begging Emma to let him move on, to let go of him and that you would never try to replace her but that he deserves to be happy, even if that's without her - but as long as her claws are so deeply anchored in his heart, he won't ever be able to move on with you or anyone else.

It was breaking his heart further to see you there like this, begging at a grave for his happiness. “He is my happiness, Emma. You and your memory will always be honored but I can't watch him suffer like this much longer.” you sniffled as you got up and wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

Draken was a tall man and you felt his presence and without turning around you spoke up “I know you're here. Was hurting me not enough? You follow me now too?” you asked offended and in this moment he knew more than before that he needed to step up his game, deciding to come out of his hiding spot. “I know I'm the last person you want to see right now but I didn't expect to see you… here” he explained himself which made you laugh bitter. Eventually your eyes landed on his bruised and bloodied hands, knowing exactly what he's done the whole night and you hated to see the way guilt was written all over his face, knowing that this was just a stupid accident. “I don't expect you to forgive me but you deserve an apology” he said loud and clear, keeping the polite distance between the two of you.

“You're right, but I'm not sure if I can forgive you… but i'll try to” You said with a sad smile, willing to give him a second chance but Draken knew that if he mistreated you ever again you would be gone without a further word.

Network: @tokyometronetwork

#tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo revengers angst #mikey x reader #draken x reader #Nahoya x reader #mikey angst #Draken angst #Nahoya angst #manjiro x reader #manjiro angst #ken ryuguji x reader #ken ryuguji angst #manjiro sano #ken ryuguji #nahoya kawata #Tokyo revengers mikey #Tokyo revengers draken #Tokyo Revengers smiley

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 6 months

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All Press Is Good Press

A/N: This is part 2 to Bad PR. It feels like it took me way too long to write but I hope you enjoy it. Also, it's written with a black reader in mind and all credit goes to the original creators of the series and gifs.

Warnings: Some swearing, sensuality, and I was sick when I wrote this.

Word count: 9.3k

“Run!” I shouted, shoving Marie behind me as Luke slowly approached us.

My heart rate had slowed down dangerously, and I could hear my blood pulsing in my ears. Before I knew it, Luke’s body was ablaze and we flew at each other. At the last second, I set off my ability to block him from burning me and grabbed his shoulders.

“Luke, breathe, it’s me, Y/N!” I pleaded.

Luke’s eyes were both angry and hollow. “You were a part of this, you knew about this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but, if you extinguish yourself, we can talk about it,” I tried.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He yelled as the fire around him increased and I felt my ability pushing against my skin as if it would rip itself out of me. But, I was desperate to put out his flames. I’d done it before and I could do it, had to do it again. The wind whirled around us and from the corner of my eye, I could see papers, fire, and other objects flying around us. Suddenly, the air around me felt hotter and something dark in Luke’s eyes flashed.

I screamed as we flew several yards and he shoved me into the hard floor. Suddenly, the air stopped moving around me and I felt like I was suffocating under the heat. Luke kneeled above me and slowly wrapped his hand around my throat.

“Luke…please…stop,” I begged, his hand warming with each word.

I wanted to scream as he seared my neck but as soon as it started, it was over. Luke was suddenly off me and Jordan was standing in front of me in their masculine form.

“Y/N, get out of here!” they yelled.

“ I can’t believe you did that!” they seethed at me, moving as quickly as possible through the Crimefighting building hallway.

It was the day after the joint interview with Marie and I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. I knew Jordan would be furious since I told them that I would get Marie to recant everything.

“Jordan, I’m sorry, I can explain.”

At that, they stopped and whirled around to face me, fury in their eyes. “Okay, explain. Explain how you and that freshman decided to royally screw me over and keep me at Number Five.”

“It’s not that simple, Marie has way more going on and she’s not trying to hurt anyone.”

“And what about you? You were already Number Three and then you play along to kick me out of the number two spot?” They laughed humorlessly. “And the fact that they had you in white, making you look like a saint and show off the burn scar and the cast to highlight your sacrifice, genius.”

The more they spoke, the more I wanted to cry. “I know it’s messed up and I know that this has made things difficult for you, but I can fix it, I promise.”

“Like Liza would let you.”

“I don’t have to do everything she tells me.”

“But you do everything she tells you. You say what she wants you to say, you post what she wants you to post, you wear what she wants you to wear, and you date who she wants you to date.”

“You’re the one who broke up with me, remember? You’re the one who said you wanted me to focus on my career, right, well, that’s what’s a part of it.” I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Just forget I said anything, I won’t bother you again.”

“Y/N…”

“Y/N, over here!”

I flinched at the blinding camera lights but managed to smile, hand on my hip as I tried to reach all the best angles. The past couple of weeks had been a blur of flashing cameras, interviews, and tragedy. For some reason, school officials thought the best way to acknowledge all that was with a fundraising gala slash memorial for Brink.

All the photographers were yelling different instructions and Liza hovered a few feet behind me, muttering notes. Turn my head this way, squint a little, laugh a little It was eerily easy to smile for pictures, laugh when Andre messed up a TikTok challenge, and joke with some people on campus. For once, all the noise was nice, it was like a shield from anything bad. Then, when I was alone in my room, the thoughts came in.

You’re a fraud. You should’ve partnered with Marie to give Jordan the credit during that interview. You weren’t strong enough to beat Luke, you never were. You’re weak and spineless. What did Jordan ever see in you? Sometimes tears came, sometimes they didn’t. It was probably a good thing that I was forced into attending this event.

Liza had insisted I attend the gala that night, arguing that it would be bad publicity if one of Brink’s top students did not attend. Plus, it would not give the public a chance to see Andre and me interacting in a formal setting.

After a couple of more pictures, I gestured to my parents, who were standing by Liza, to join me. They hesitated but Liza shooed them in my direction and they flanked me. When I took a second to look at them, they both looked so happy, not the kind of happy that I feigned but, true happiness.

“You make this look easy sweetheart,” Dad chuckled.

I sighed. “It’s all practice, Dad.”

“Mr. Y/L/N, how do you feel about Y/N being a Guardian of Godolkin?” a reporter shouted.

“Couldn’t be prouder of my little girl!” He called back.

“She’s always been a hero and this is just another time she’s proved it!” Mom added, squeezing my side.

I smiled sheepishly, the urge to tell the truth about that day bubbling in the back of my throat. Instead, I said, “It was nothing, I was trying to protect Marie and she didn’t really need my help.”

Then, the crowd started to roar, and I glanced down the red carpet to see Andre and Polarity approaching us. They both had wide PR-approved smiles on as they posed together. When they reached us, Polarity shook hands with Dad, hugged Mom, and kissed my cheek.

“It’s great to see you again,” he whispered before pulling away.

“You too, Mr. Anderson,” I replied.

Liza quickly coordinated our parents to move further up the red carpet and instructed Andre to stand on my right. “Her left is her best side.”

He slowly wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I tried to relax my shoulders as the camera flashes continued. I couldn’t have been more grateful to Liza for not making us match. Instead, Andre’s light blue suit and my metallic silver halter gown were complimentary.

“Andre, over here!”

“They look great together!”

“Andre, give her a kiss!”

Andre laughed. “Not into PDA!” he called.

“And we’re here as friends,” I added with a smile.

Fortunately, Andre and I never had to do anything too intimate to garner attention. A few social media posts here and there and suddenly, we had the public filling in the dots that Vought wanted them to.

After what felt like an eternity, Liza hurried us into the venue. The lighting was nice, not too bright nor too dark. Servers looped the area with flutes of champagne bubbling on top of their trays. A few alumni and upper-crust students were already mingling, all dressed in tuxes and gowns.

“You two did perfectly, social media is going crazy about this,” Liza reported without looking up from either of her phones.

“It’s not hard with a face like this,” Andre joked as he stroked his jaw.

I laughed. “Please, I’m literally outshining you right now.”

“I must say, you two do make a good couple,” Polarity commented.

I smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

“Now, don’t forget, we need you to get at least five shots together interacting with other attendees. Make it look natural, we don’t want to ruin the illusion,” Liza instructed.

“Illusion is the right word,” I muttered.

Liza arched an eyebrow at me and I stared back at her, offering a fake smile with a tilt of my head. “Watch the attitude, Y/N.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be delightful and charming to everyone I encounter,” I said.

For a second, I glanced at Mom and thought I saw something flash across her eyes. Before I could address it, Andre gently pulled me further into the party.

Schmoozing was an incredibly easy task. All one needed to do was smile, repeat the last thing the other person said as a question, and thank them for coming to the event. Andre and I spoke with around ten people, ensuring pictures were taken before we were left alone.

“Nice job, partner,” Andre teased.

“Back at ya,” I said, leaning on the table closest to us. “How long do we have to keep this up?”

“An hour but, this,” Andre snagged a couple of champagne flutes from a passing server, “should make it go quicker.” I smiled as I accepted the glass. “Thank you, but I meant this.” I gestured between the two of us.

“What? Is there already trouble in the water?”

“Please, Andre, I know I’m not your type. I’m not white nor am I taken.”

Andre almost choked on his champagne and wiped his face. “What the hell are you talking about? “

I rolled my eyes. “Cate’s my best friend, she tells me everything. But going after your best friend’s girlfriend, that’s pretty low.”

“It’s complicated,” Andre muttered.

I shrugged and downed the champagne. “How about we give it another couple of weeks and then you and Cate can go official and you won’t have to deal with fake cheating rumors?”

“Y/N, I know this is a bad situation for both of us but, we’ve got to play it right.”

Play it right, that’s all anyone was ever interested in. Finding the best angle or the best spin on things. It made me sick to my stomach knowing that all this had taken up the past five years of my life.

“Don’t worry, I won’t use this as leverage to make you look bad,” I assured, setting my empty glass on a passing server’s tray.

Andre opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off. “Sorry, I got to run to the bathroom. See you later?”

“Sure.”

As soon as he left, Dean Shetty and Marie appeared at my table.

“Y/N, you are a star tonight,” Dean Shetty complimented, giving me a quick hug.

Dean Shetty had been incredibly attentive in the last couple of weeks. Since the Luke incident, she insisted we had weekly check-ins and when I mentioned my sleeping issues, she gave me a prescription.

“We can’t have one of our Guardians of Godolkin losing any sleep,” she’d said.

With everything going on, it was nice to have someone as stable as Dean Shetty in my ear and in my corner. In our check ins, she truly listened to me and helped me make sense of the mess in my head.

“Thank you, Dean, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I replied.

“Y/N, wow,” Marie greeted.

I smiled and gave her a side hug. “I could say the same to you.”

She truly did look stunning in her floor-length red corset dress, her twists pulled away from her face. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she picked up the skirt to stand next to Dean Shetty.

A server paused at our table. “More champagne?”

I thanked her as I plucked another flute off the tray and started sipping.

“You should be proud of Marie, Y/N, she’s done wonderfully tonight with our donors,” Dean Shetty said, squeezing Marie’s hand.

The freshman smiled sheepishly. “I listened to Dean Shetty’s advice.”

“You’re a quick learner and humble, that’s good,” I said, pointing at her.

“I must also say that I am grateful that you joined us tonight. It would not have been the same without both of our Guardians of Godolkin,” Dean Shetty commented.

No matter how much time passed, the name still made me cringe. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marie scratch the back of her neck and stare down at the table.

“Of course. Professor Brink was a large influence on my life and I’m glad that I was able to be here, honor his memory, and hopefully get more money for the school,” I replied.

Dean Shetty seemed pleased and grabbed her clutch. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have a few other alumni to schmooze.

As soon as she walked away, Marie slid closer to me. “How are you holding up?”

“Great.” I downed the last of my champagne and used a breeze to slip another flute from a passing server’s tray into my hand.

“Not to be a prude but, shouldn’t you slow down?” Marie asked.

I smirked at her. “Don’t worry, Marie, I know my limits. This isn’t enough to get me to trip in my heels but hey, more people in your favor.”

Marie sighed. “I’m sorry about you getting dragged into all this. This is never what I wanted.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything; I knew what I was doing when I went along with the story,” I assured her. “Besides, you came to GOD U to be a hero, and you can’t be a hero without attention.”

“But this wasn’t my plan. I was supposed to keep my head down and survive,” Marie argued.

“Well, things rarely go to plan and your success has been fast-tracked, congratulations,” I muttered.

“What’s going on? You seem a lot different since the last time we talked,” Marie commented.

I swirled my glass. “Marie, I’m going to give you some advice, if you want to be a hero, you have to make sacrifices.” “That’s something Brink wrote,” Marie thought out loud.

“And he was right, but he left out the part where you don’t get to decide what to sacrifice. He also forgot to mention how you are a commodity and these people…these people who tell you that you are perfect and special turn around and say that there’s this one thing holding you back. You can keep this one thing but, you lose the money, the reputation, the followers, and the fans, and a hero is nothing without any of that,” I confessed.

“But, you have a choice,” Marie countered.

No, I didn’t, no one did. But Marie would learn that eventually, and maybe we could sit down one day and compare notes. I laughed humorlessly at the thought and sipped more champagne.

When would this night end?

“Excuse me, are you Marie Moreau?” Mom asked, sidling next to me.

Marie nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“I must say it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Mrs. Y/L/N,” she greeted, extending a hand to Marie.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Marie replied, shaking her hand.

“Has Y/N been showing you the ropes of all this?” Mom asked, gesturing around us.

“Yes, Y/N has been great with everything. I’m learning a lot from her,” Marie stated.

I straightened up slowly and started drawing patterns on the tablecloth. “She’ll be Vought’s new favorite before we know it.”

Marie flinched and her eyes widened while Mom looked at me as though I said there was a headless chicken doing laps outside. Honestly, I did not mean to be so surly but the words just slipped out.

“Kidding,” I sang, downing the last of my champagne.

“Do you mind if I borrow my daughter for a moment?” Mom asked.

“Of course not.”

Mom slowly guided me away from the table, taking a moment to pause and smile at the cameras as we made our way through the space. Her grip on my arm was firm----the way it tended to be whenever she was upset with something I did. When we were out of earshot from enough people, she turned to me.

“Y/N, what is going on with you?” she asked.

“Nothing, I’m having a great night. I’m wearing Laquan Smith, I’m drinking expensive champagne, everyone’s happy and smiling tonight; what else could I want?” I argued.

“Do not lie to me, Y/N. You’ve looked miserable all night and I can’t stand it. Now tell me, you can tell me anything, honey, you know that.”

Before Vought noticed me, it was relaxing to talk to my mom about everything: school, stress, crushes, and the future. Now, it felt like if I was not super positive, I would add a burden to her and Dad. They were doing so well now, and I was not going to mess that up. I could handle this, I’ve always been able to handle this.

Then, when I looked back up at her, there was so much warmth and concern in her aging mahogany eyes. There was the slightest hint of a frown on her forehead and I suddenly felt this strange invisible weight lift from my shoulders.

“I messed up so bad, Mom,” I whispered.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“I messed up with everything. I’m barely hanging on in all my classes, my footwork is sloppy in training, and I totally screwed over Jordan, and they didn’t do anything to deserve it,” I rambled.

Mom gently moved her hands to grasp my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. Tears burned my eyes but they wouldn’t fall as I embraced her warmth and the scent of peonies and lilac. She ran her hand over my head and hummed.

“Nothing you said is anything you can’t fix,” she stated.

I slowly pulled away and looked up at her. “What?”

Mom sighed. “This is not the first time you have met a setback, Y/N. You’ve had plenty of them, from racist classmates to adjusting when Dad lost his job. You can improve your grades and work on your skills.”

At her words, I nodded, wondering if I would know exactly what to say at that age.

“What about Jordan?”

“I know they make you happy and you would light up in their presence. So, I don’t think you two can’t make up,” Mom admitted.

I rolled my eyes. “But what about Liza? If I go against her, I’ll lose all the backing and…and you and Dad will----”

Mom held up a hand. “First of all, never roll your eyes at me. Second, your father and I will be fine. Our mortgage is paid, we both work now, and we’ll do just fine. Have you been worried about us all this time?”

I nodded. “I know you really struggled before the Compound V took and I didn’t want to ruin anything for you two. You’ve been so happy, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Y/N, you could never disappoint us. You have been so, so amazing your entire life. We’ve been so happy because we are just that proud of you and we know you’ll do amazing things,” Mom insisted. “Your happiness is important too, don’t ever forget that.”

On instinct, I hugged her so tightly that I thought I would crush her. But, she patted my back to let me know that she was okay. Her laugh made me laugh and I felt like an idiot when I couldn’t stop laughing even when I pulled away.

“But who says Jordan would take me back? They broke up with me and I played along with Vought and that must have hurt them.”

“Try not to overthink it. Come on, their memorial video is about to start.”

As the video played, I could barely focus on not looking at Jordan. They were sitting at a table with their parents across the room. Both were whispering animatedly to a suit while Jordan sat across from them, looking like they wanted to cry. Jordan rarely cried, not even when they dislocated their shoulder during a sparring match sophomore year. Their parents were always a difficult topic, and I was stunned when Jordan brought me to meet them during a parent's weekend.

“Just try not to make any reference to my other form,” they’d insisted.

“Okay, I won’t,” I’d replied.

The Lis were nice enough but, they always referred to Jordan as “their son” or “my boy” or “he”. It made me nauseous just thinking about it and how many breakdowns they’d had about their parents not accepting them. I wanted to hug them or distract them with top-shelf liquor. Then, Jordan looked up at me and I knew exactly how deer felt in the headlights.

My heart ached as I slowly turned away just in time to see a picture of myself and Brink flash across the screen. It was from sophomore year after I helped solve an ongoing serial robbery case. Jordan had helped me with that but insisted I did most of the heavy lifting.

Finally, the video ended and I snatched another champagne flute from a passing server as Dean Shetty returned to the podium amidst the applause.

“Professor Brink always had an eye for outstanding students, and I know that he would want all of you to continue your generosity to foster their talent. There are a couple of students I would like to highlight tonight,” she stated.

Liza leaned over the table. “Remember, shoulders back, head up like a princess.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered.

“And where is Andre? This would be a great photo op!” she hissed.

“I don’t know.”

“First is Marie Moreau, a freshman who has become an asset to our community as a Guardian of Godolkin, showcasing such courage and wit in the face of adversity.” Dean Shetty gestured to the left of the stage, where Marie stood and smiled at the applause. “Second is a name I know you are all very familiar with. Y/N Y/L/N has created a positive whirlwind before she stepped foot on our campus. She has used this whirlwind not only to inspire other young people to dedicate their time to philanthropy and their studies, but to assist Marie in protecting our campus.”

The spotlight was harsh, but I took Liza’s advice and posed the best I could. I desperately wanted to look at Jordan, to tell them I did not want any of this, that I wanted them to have the credit, but I endured the second round of applause. When the applause ended and the spotlight went away, I grabbed my champagne.

“Not bad, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes,” Liza noted.

“I’ll work on it.”

The bubbles tickled the back of my throat and I looked over at Jordan again. They were looking down at their hands as their parents continued speaking with a different suit. For a split second, I wished that I could switch powers with Cate and have an idea of what they were thinking.

“…and don’t forget to schmooze some other donors. Did you get pictures with Marie?” Liza droned.

“I think Y/N has done enough schmoozing for tonight, Liza,” Dad interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Y/L/N, but my job is to make sure that your daughter is seen is the best possible light at all times and---”

“Would you all excuse me?” I asked, standing.

Without waiting for a reply, I made my way across the room, ignoring some other kids who asked for pictures or donors who kept eyeing my backside. Once I was at the Lis table, I froze. I hadn’t prepared anything and my head was totally empty.

This was bad.

Just when I was about to sprint back to my chair, Mrs. Li noticed me.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Li exclaimed.

Thankfully, my PR training kicked in.

“Good evening, Mrs. Li. How are you?” I replied.

She stood and hugged me for a few seconds “Oh, you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful, honey?” She turned to Mr. Li.

“Yes, my boy knows how to pick ‘em,” Mr. Li said with a grin.

I blinked back the shock of my words and smiled slowly. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, we were done,” Mrs. Li insisted.

Suit Guy nodded and excused himself while Mrs. Li gently pulled me down to sit next to her. Jordan stared at me the same way they did when I disagreed with them on a floor plan on Property Brothers. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them.

“Y/N, I must say, I was so sad when Jordan told us you broke up,” Mrs. Li admitted.

That made two of us.

“And it was so unexpected. You two were inseparable,” Mr. Li added.

I nodded. “Yeah, well, things change.” I took a long swig of my champagne.

“And where are your parents tonight, Y/N?” Mr. Li asked.

“They’re here. I think they’ve been talking Polarity’s ear off,” I replied.

That wasn’t too much of a lie. Dad was happy taking pictures with him on the red carpet and Mom thought that he was okay.

Mr. Li let out a low whistle. “Impressive. You and Andre do make a nice couple, no offense, Jordan.”

“None taken, Dad,” they scoffed.

I hesitated for a second. “We’re just friends…Andre and me, we’re just friends. We’ve just been hanging out a lot more lately.”

For a second, I hoped Jordan listened to me but I couldn’t tell as their eyes wandered away from their parents and me. This was a mistake, such a stupid mistake. I had to get out of there, someway, somehow.

Mr. Li raised his eyebrows. “My son may still have a chance?”

I smiled as mysteriously as I could muster before downing the rest of my champagne. It did nothing to blot out the embarrassment rising from my neck and over my ears. Mrs. Li gently grabbed my uninjured hand in hers.

“You’ve been so brave with all this, Y/N. Fighting Luke must have been terrifying. Oh, I couldn’t imagine!” she exclaimed.

No, she couldn’t imagine seeing those glowing eyes every time she blinked nor tensing every time she had to go past Brink’s office to get to the super nice bathroom in the Crimefighting building. She couldn’t possibly imagine all the stupid questions she would get asked or the strange itching pain the burn around her neck caused.

“It was,” I whispered, glancing at Jordan.

They finally looked at me but this time, I was thankful they didn’t have laser vision. I quickly set aside my empty glass and turned back to Mrs. Li.

“But you survived and sacrificed so much,” she added.

“You could say that again,” I replied.

“That’s Y/N, always sacrificing herself for someone else,” Jordan seethed.

It was awful being on Jordan’s bad side and I was doing nothing but exacerbating the situation. There had to be some escape route that I could take. Someone I knew had to come by or someone could maybe ask for a picture.

“Jordan, don’t be rude,” Mr. Li admonished. “I thought I raised my boy better than that.”

There was something about Mr. Li’s tone that made my stomach lurch. Or maybe it was the distressed way Jordan looked away and was suddenly fascinated with the fairy lights that hung on the walls. All I knew was that I was slowly pulling away from Mrs. Li and straightening up.

“Did Jordan ever tell you how we first met?” I asked.

“No, never,” Mr. Li said, glancing at Jordan.

“It was freshman year during the mid-terms. I was slammed with so many assignments that I thought I was going to drown but before that, I would bomb all my classes, especially Brink’s. One night, I was in the library having a total meltdown because none of my index cards made any sense and there were only two days left until the exam.” I paused. “In the middle of my snot and tears, Jordan finds me surrounded by my notecards and books, picks up one of my notecards, and says, ‘I’d be crying too if I was studying something that wasn’t going to be on the exam’. Then, they sat down with me and helped me study. Totally saved my butt freshman year.”

I left out the part about how they were in their feminine form and rolled their eyes every time I sniffled. But Mr. and Mrs. Li looked surprised but pleased at the same time.

“I had no idea,” Mrs. Li said.

“Yeah, Jordan’s always looking out for the people they care about, even if they won’t admit it.” I glanced at Jordan. “They deserve to be Number One in the Top Five and I hope that one day, I can be half the hero I know they will be. So, yes, Mr. Li, you raised a great child who will be a great person and I am happy to know them.”

Though I could feel Jordan’s eyes on me, I quietly excused myself and slowly walked away. The lights and noise began to blur in front of me. Soon, I felt the tear slip down my cheek and hurried into the bathroom before anyone else could see.

I immediately walked up to the sink and placed my hands on the counter. “Breathe, Y/N, breathe,” I said in choked breaths.

It was a difficult fete since the tears started falling as soon as the door closed behind me. I didn’t know why I was crying, I thought I did something positive. Maybe I was crying because I screwed up or I said too much to Marie. Maybe I was crying because I hadn’t cried since the night Jordan broke up with me. Their words tore a piece out of my chest, and I thought that I wouldn’t be able to get back. Maybe I never would.

The bathroom door suddenly flew open, and I screamed, “GET OUT!” Sending a blast of wind with my bad hand.

A loud bang and bright light followed, extinguishing the wind without incident. My eyes flew open, and I turned to find Jordan, in their feminine form leaning against the wall. They seemed unimpressed and angry.

“Careful, don’t want you causing damage to another building,” they deadpanned.

I swallowed and started wiping my tears. “Why are you in here?”

“To ask you what the hell was that back there? You just bulldoze in our conversation and say…that?” Jordan said.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m tipsier than I thought,” I muttered.

“No, this isn’t you tipsy,” Jordan argued.

“Fine, I got upset when your dad kept calling you ‘son’ and ‘boy’ and it just came out, okay?” I snapped. “I’m sorry I butt into your family stuff, it won’t happen again. We can go back to ignoring each other.”

Jordan scoffed and walked closer to me. “You mean, you can go back to ignoring me?”

Were they really arguing with me about ignoring each other? They had been ignoring me this whole time as well. No in-person conversations, no texts, no calls, not even social media interactions.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend like after two weeks of nothing, it’s not insane that you would do that,” they continued

“Okay, so I tried to do a nice thing for you and screwed it up, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology.”

“Then what do you want?” I glared at them. “I tried to fix the Luke and Brink mess but that backfired. Then, I tried to stand up for you in front of your parents, but I screwed that up too. Every time I try to do something nice for you, I end up hurting you instead and I’m tired of it. I don’t like hurting you and if we have to stay away from each other than fine.”

Jordan was quiet for a long time and during that time, their eyes never left mine. They always had such a cutting gaze, like they could see through everyone and everything. Sometimes, I would be curious and terrified at what they would find if they stared at me long enough.

“You didn’t hurt me tonight,” they whispered. “I just don’t understand why you did it.”

I sighed. “Because I still care about you. It’s stupid, right? You broke my heart and I still care about you.”

“Y/N…”

I sniffled and turned away from them. “I should get cleaned up before heading back out there. I must look like a mess.”

For a moment, the only sounds I heard were my sniffling and rifling for the paper towels to fix my makeup. As I dabbed the makeup Jordan whispered, “You never look like a mess.”

The next time I spoke to Jordan was the day Tek Knight guest-lectured our class. The tall, slimy idiot made the side of my mouth twitch with each word he spoke. His show was ridiculous but maybe that was due to all the editing to make him seem normal. He spoke so grandiosely, and I wondered how Cate, Andre, and Jordan dealt with being interviewed by him.

“I can’t stand this guy,” Marie whispered.

“You and me both,” I muttered.

“…and, as all you know,” Tek continued, “I am a master at interrogation and I would love to take this moment to show you proper technique. Now, I’ll need a volunteer.” Fortunately, no one raised their hands and I went back to skimming some old class notes. Hopefully class would go by quickly, Dean Shetty couldn’t let this man prattle on the whole time, right?

“Cyclone, one of our Guardians of Godolkin. Surely, you wouldn’t mind? It could make up for our missed interview,” Tek said with a slight edge to his voice.

“You can call me Y/N and, fine.” I stood, straightened my blazer that I wore with a houndstooth mini skirt, and strolled down to the seat at the front of the class.

All that was missing was a blinding light and a seedy interrogation room. I folded my hands in my lap and relaxed into the chair. This would be fine, nothing at all. I glanced at my classmates, offering Marie a small smile and locking eyes with Jordan for a second. I could get through this, Tek Knight was nothing.

“Miss Y/L/N, I appreciate your participation,” Tek began. “Why don’t we start by going over the events of your friend, Luke’s, death?”

I swallowed. “I have relayed the story many times, Mr. Knight, unless you didn’t see any of my interviews.”

That earned a small laugh throughout the class and Tek’s jaw clenched but he smiled.

“No, I can’t say that I have, I was too busy investigating the details of his death. So, humor me, please,” Tek requested. “What was that day like?”

Easy.

“It was a normal day. I had a morning class on forensics and then I had lunch with Cate. After lunch, I did some homework and I decided to go see Professor Brink about an assignment,” I said.

That day, I did not need to talk to Brink but I had told the lie so much that no one would second guess it.

“Your pupils just dilated, you’re lying,” Tek said in delight.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve told the story fifty times, I think I remember it correctly.” “Ah, notice class just how defensive she got,” Tek instructed. “Why were you really there?”

I paused again, my eyes glancing at Jordan. Their expression was unreadable but their jaw clenched for a moment. That day, I went to see Jordan and apologize for everything that happened with Liza since we had not spoken when we all went out the night before. However, Jordan was particularly icy about it and I ended up running into a frantic Marie.

A chill ran up my spine at the memory and I turned my attention back to Tek. He was waiting with bated breath and I wondered how much he got off on these.

“I wanted to talk to Brink about an assignment,” I repeated.

“Tell that to the sweat on your forehead but we’ll circle back to that. What happened when you got to his office?”

“When I walked into the building, I saw Marie was in front of his office.”

“And you didn’t think that was strange since she was a freshman?”

I shook my head. “No, she was a fan of Brink’s work so it made sense that she would try to talk to him.”

“Was anyone else there?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Another lie. Who else was there, Y/N?”

“Marie, Marie was the only person there.” I willed myself to calm down.

Tek faced the class. “Notice, class, that Y/N is rubbing her hand on her forearm, a classic self-soothing gesture. We are one step closer to the truth!” Then, he whirled back around to me. “Who else was there, Y/N?”

“Marie. I didn’t see anyone else.” Tek shook a finger at me. “Oh, you’re a tough one, Y/N, and those are my favorites to break.”

I huffed and glanced at Dean Shetty, who offered me a pity look. “Do you have any other questions?”

“Plenty. What happened when you got to Brink’s office?”

“Well, Marie was nervous to talk to Brink so I knocked on the door. There was no answer, and I opened it and I saw Luke burning him alive,” I said quietly.

“The downcast eyes and lower tone suggest that not only is Miss Y/L/N telling the truth but there is emotional weight to it.” Tek gestured to me. “Please, continue.”

“When Luke saw us, something was off with his eyes. He was…infuriated and he looked hurt.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He said that we shouldn’t have seen that and now we had to die.”

“That must have been painful and scary, you had been friends for two years, correct?” Tek asked.

“Yeah, around the time he and Cate started dating,” I confirmed.

“What happened next?”

“I told Marie to run and I tried to hold him off. We got into a pretty intense physical fight and I was able to extinguish his flames long enough for Marie to do some damage,” I reported.

“We can see that it must have been very difficult with your injuries. What made you think that you could beat him?”

I paused and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Well, according to your record, you’ve fought Luke three times, lost twice, and ended in a draw once. To go from that to disarming him is a large leap.”

My heart rate started to pick up and I brushed a loc out of my face to distract myself. I just had to stay calm and answer everything with confidence. Confidence was all anyone needed, Liza preached it enough.

“Yes, Luke was incredibly strong and near-impossible to beat,” I added.

“But you’ve extinguished his flames before? And you still lost? How did that work?”

It was an easy gig when Luke was caught off guard. The most I could ever do when sparring with him was play defense. I could feel the heat of his flames still and the flash in his eyes.

“Just tell them what they want to hear,” Liza’s voice coached in my ear. “No one wants the truth, they want what we tell them.”

But what was the point of that? Why couldn’t Jordan get the credit? What truth would that be hiding? That they’re a good hero? What was the point of me fake-dating Andre? Who were we placating? Why did I have to play to anything?

Slowly, I glanced at Marie and then I glanced at Jordan. Marie looked like she was holding her breath while Jordan was hyper-focused. I wondered if Marie knew how insightful she was or could be.

“It didn’t,” I stated.

Tek smiled like the Cheshire cat and everyone’s expressions around the room shifted from bored focus to interest. My heart was pumping in my ears and my breath was starting to speed up, but I had to keep going.

“What do you mean?”

“I tried to extinguish Luke’s fire that day but it didn’t work. It had worked during one of our sparring sessions but, his guard was lower and I took advantage. The day he died, I panicked,” I reported.

“The Cyclone panicked under pressure?” Tek asked.

“Yes, I was scared. Luke was never malicious in our fights, and I could tell he wanted to kill me. Plus, I had to protect Marie but, I ended up making things worse.” I took another deep breath. “When I tried to extinguish the fire, I exacerbated it and set fire to almost everything around us. Luke tackled me to the ground, and I landed wrong, which is how I broke my wrist.”

“That is a harrowing story, Miss Y/L/N. What happened to Marie?”

I looked apologetically at her. “She ran and I didn’t see where she went. For a minute, I thought I accidentally got her burned too.” My eyes went back to Tek.

“And how did you escape?” Tek asked.

Here it goes.

“Jordan stepped in and tackled him off me,” I admitted. “Because they’re indestructible in their male form, they weren’t hurt, and they were able to hold him off long enough for me to escape.”

There, it was all out there. I felt lighter than I had in weeks, and I could have cried at the feeling. For a moment, I wondered why it took me so long to just admit the truth.

“I thought you said there was no one else there?” Tek countered.

“I lied.”

“Why lie?”

“Partially to protect and help Marie. This situation was beneficial for her, and I played along to help. But she also doesn’t need this to prove how great she’ll be one day.”

“So, is Jordan part of the reason you were there that day?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “They’re the reason I was at Brink’s.”

“But why?”

“That’s your favorite word,” I scoffed. “I lied to protect myself. I went to Brink’s office to see Jordan to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“To apologize for the position I put them in.” I willed myself not to glance at them because if I did, they might telepathically make me shut up.

Tek walked closer to me and leaned over me a little. “And what position is that?”

“I made them feel like a burden when they weren’t, they never were,” I whispered, eyeing Tek.

Tek nodded. “That’s right, you two were an item.”

“They broke up with me because they thought they were helping me but, they couldn’t have been more wrong. Jordan challenged me and made me think deeper about things.” Tears burned my eyes but I kept pushing. “But the facts are that Jordan protected everyone from Luke, not me and not Marie. You can quote me on that.”

I crossed my arms and noticed I was breathing harder than usual. Was this panic or relief? How could anyone tell the difference?

Tek smiled like the Cheshire cat as he continued to circle me. “Notice how even though she got defensive, she is relaxed. Ladies and gentlemen, we have found the truth!”

Some sporadic applause broke out and Tek leaned over to shake my hand, but I stood, brushed past him, and headed back to my seat. On the way, I could feel everyone’s eyes boring into me but for the first time in a long time, I could not have cared less. Marie was stunned when I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry but you were right, I had a choice,” I whispered back.

Marie hesitated but nodded as I turned and walked out of the class. Finally, the truth was out there, and it would spread like wildfire on Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram. Part of me wondered how long it would take for the news to reach Liza and another part of me wondered how that conversation would go. She would be infuriated and try to work on a counterattack but, I also could not bring myself to care too much. I did care about how my parents would feel once they found out. They had no idea that I lied.

The sun was brighter than usual and the students frantically typing on their laptops or talking on their phones were productive, not overly stressed. There was a sense of calm over campus, and it made for a nice ambiance for my walk back to my dorm. As soon as I walked in, I got a FaceTime call from Cate.

“Okay, what was that with Tek Knight?” she interrogated.

“Wow, those kids work fast,” I commented, setting my bag on my desk.

“Seriously. Did you skip the interview so you could do…that?”

“First of all, I skipped the interview because I had a shoot with Nike that I was contractually obligated to. Second of all, Tek wanted the truth and I gave it to him.”

I flopped down on my bed and propped my phone on my side table so that I could see Cate’s frowning face which was a mixture of shock and pride.

“Well, I know this is super therapist-y of me to ask but how are you feeling?” she asked.

“I feel light. It’s true about the truth setting you free, you know. I feel like I can fly,” I drawled, stretching myself out further on my bed.

“Technically, you can already fly,” Cate teased.

“Not the point, Cate. I didn’t realize how much Vought and Liza caged me in. If this is what they did to me, I can’t imagine what they did to Luke.”

Cate hummed, a solemn expression rolling across her pretty features. “I knew he was under a lot of pressure but…” Cate cut herself off. “Anyway, I am happy that you are feeling better; you can only hold things in for so long before you snap.”

“Like you would let me snap,” I teased.

“Of course. Are you worried about your parents?” Cate asked.

I shrugged. “Only the fact that they had no idea I lied about any of this. I told you how my mom and I had a heart-to-heart at the gala. They want me to be happy and this feels like a good start.”

“I want you happy too. I gotta get back to psych before Professor Banks sends someone looking for me.”

As soon as she clicked off, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and rolled onto my back. This seemed like a fantastic moment for less noise.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Or not.

I huffed as I pushed myself off the bed and made my way to the door. “I am not going to do any of those stupid TikTok interviews or----”I stopped when I saw Jordan staring back at me.

“Sorry, I didn’t come by for a statement,” they muttered.

“N-no, it’s fine.” I stepped aside and they quickly brushed past me.

As I closed the door behind me, I willed my heartbeat to slow to a normal rate and wiped my palms on my skirt. Jordan dropped their bag in the middle of the room and whirled around to face me.

“Why did you do that?” they demanded.

“I wanted to tell the truth,” I answered.

Jordan laughed humorlessly and rolled their eyes. “Sure you did. Is this another ploy from Liza that you’re playing along with? I’m wondering how exactly this is going to screw me and make you look better.”

I shook my head and took a couple of steps closer to them. “There’s no ploy! You’ll believe me when the rankings come out.”

“Oh, I’m sure nothing will change except you might be at Number One this time,” they seethed.

“Why are you mad at me? I did what you’ve been asking me to do since this whole thing started.”

“But I didn’t want you to make yourself look bad in the process!” they exclaimed.

As their words sunk in, I had a chance to think. Class was not over for another thirty minutes, and Jordan never skipped class unless they were deathly ill. At the gala, I did not see Jordan or their parents until I approached them. At the time, I thought they were avoiding an awkward conversation----that still happened-----but now, I wondered if they were trying to protect me or themselves from something. When we broke up, they disappeared until that night Cate practically forced me to go out with everyone and even then, we never spoke. I thought they were avoiding me because they were angry but maybe they were hurt. And when they yelled at me to run from Luke, they almost sounded…scared.

What did that mean?

Slowly, I closed the distance between us, swallowing at the tension rising in the room. “I don’t care about rankings or social media engagement right now. If anything happens, I can bounce back but like I said the other night, I care about you and I am tired of hurting you. I know that my lying about what happened with Luke and Brink was messed up and must have caused a different kind of pain and I wanted to make it right.”

“There’s still smarter ways of doing that, Y/N. Did you coordinate with Liza or something? And what about Marie?” Jordan rattled.

“No, I decided on my own and Marie inspired me to do it. I had a choice, and I made the right one,” I argued. “Can you please just enjoy the glory and attention you’ll get from this and stop trying to poke holes in it?”

Jordan shook their head. “No, not when I know there’s an angle to this.”

“You want an angle? Here’s your angle: I love you and I wanted to help you, just like I tried to at the gala. If it lowers my ranking or makes me lose followers, I don’t care!” I announced. “I am sick of spending hours making sure total strangers like me and avoiding mistakes. I can help other black girls outside of being a hero, through charity or promoting positive representations of us in media. So please, for the love of all that is good in the world, just accept what I did and enjoy the benefits!”

It was only when the silence filled the room that I realized what I had said. My face immediately warmed, and I felt kind of nauseous. The fact that we never really said the L-word to each other in a year and a half of dating was ludicrous but, we agreed that we did not have to say it if we felt it from each other. It sounded great at the time but the truth was that saying it out loud made it more real.

Suddenly, my dorm did not feel like the safe space where I could cry, binge-watch Psych, or share a joint with Cate. I suddenly felt like a child again as Jordan stared at me wide-eyed. After a few seconds, they spoke.

“Oh.”

Great, that’s what every girl wants to hear after they confess their feelings to their ex. I ran my hands through my locs and started walking towards the door.

“You can go now. Just try to keep the gloating to a minimum,” I whispered.

Before I could make it to the door, I felt a familiar strong hand grip my good arm and pull me closer. I did not have time to react as Jordan pressed their lips against mine. This kiss was much different than any kiss we’d ever had, well, any kiss that I ever had. There was pain, passion, anger, lust, and tenderness.

They slowly pulled away, barely a millimeter from my face, and I exhaled. “You don’t get to ruin your career for me, say that, and then kick me out of your dorm,” they growled lowly.

A tingle ran up my spine as I leaned forward to kiss them again. It was strange that I had almost forgotten how good they were at this, how much I missed this feeling with them. I felt their hands run up the nape of my neck and pull gently on a couple of locs. I pulled away for a second.

“You didn’t give me a chance to fight for us,” I muttered.

Jordan sighed, trailing their hand from my hair to the back of my shoulders. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are, you always were,” I insisted.

Something lit in their eyes and Jordan smiled so widely that I thought they might crack. They gently pulled me in closer for a hug, scratching my back with featherlight touches.

“I’m sorry I broke up with you,” they whispered into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I made you think you had to break up with me,” I replied. “Thank you for saving me from Luke, sorry for lying about that again.”

They groaned. “Please stop apologizing for that.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

“Besides,” they stood to their full height, “I didn’t do that great of a job.”

Their eyes zeroed in on my bruised neck and then glided to my injured wrist. It was as though I could sense the doubt rising within them and I grabbed their face.

“Hey, this was my fault, not yours. I’m here in one piece because of you, never forget that, okay?”

“Well, I guess when you put it that way…” They smirked and I swatted their arm with my good hand.

“Seriously, do not get a big head from this,” I instructed.

“No promises,” They teased. “So, what now? I mean, I know you love me and all but where do we go from here?”

“You know how I feel and I’ve done enough heart-opening speeches for one day. But, I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about getting back with you ever since you broke up with me,” I said.

“Well,” Jordan rocked back on their heels, “I would also be lying if I said that I haven’t thought about getting back with you too and those posts with you and Andre drove me nuts.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You were jealous?”

Jordan looked away from me for a moment. “He was looking at you all weird and flirty.” “It was a fake relationship and you got fooled!” I cheered.

“It didn’t look fake on his end,” Jordan grumbled.

“Aww, is little Jordan feeling a little sad still?” I sang in a baby voice.

“Don’t do that voice, Y/N,” Jordan warned.

“Or what?”

Quickly, Jordan’s hands started tapping on my sides in rapid succession and I could hold the giant laugh down. Somehow, I wriggled out of their grasp and made a run for it. I made it about halfway across the room before they tackled me into my bed, continuing their attack. I laughed so hard that tears were rolling down my face. After a few moments, they stopped, laughing as well and slowly playing with the hem of my shirt.

“Seriously, though, what do we do now?” Jordan asked, slightly out of breath.

I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Well, I’m open to sneaking around to ease us back into things but I’m also open to suggestions.” Jordan’s hands slowly moved to rub my sides. “Then I would suggest that we pick up where we left off, if that’s okay with you.”

I hummed, pretending to think about it, before quickly pecking their lips. “Of course, that’s fine with me!”

“And you’re sure you don’t care what Liza says?”

I nodded. “Can we please stop talking about her? You have a lot of making up to do.”

“Me? You’re the one who chose a freshman over me.”

“She had a compelling story!”

I didn’t see Liza’s frantic missed calls or texts hours after Jordan and I competed to see who could “make up” the best. I didn’t see any of the memes or clips from Tek’s interrogation of me either. I didn’t even see the comments on our Instagram official post. All I knew was that I was at peace for maybe the third time in my life and I was not going to let anything get in the way of it again.

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li x black!reader

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 2 months

Text

Heavyweight: Chaggie

Buckle up, Buttercups! This is a bit long. Google translate will be your friend.

Charlie: (exiting her office after a 72 hour video meeting and bee-lining towards the bar) UggGHhghhhHHh!!!! I need a DRINK!!!

Alastor: (whirling in out of nowhere) I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

Charlie: (jumps) Holy Shit!!! Fuck! Alastor, can you not do that, please? You nearly gave me a heart attack.

Alastor: So sorry, dear. I'm just warning you before you go anywhere that the bar is in quite the unsavory state right now.

Charlie: What do you mean? Did Cherri invite her biker friends again?

Alastor: Oh, heavens, no! That little manager of yours would never allow that to happen again.

Charlie: Alastor, we've talked about this. Her name is Vaggie. But why is the bar in an unsavory state?

Alastor: (grins wider) Oh, I suppose you'll just have to see it to believe it, I'm afraid. (opens the door to the bar and latin music blares through the hotel)

Charlie: Alastor, I really don't have the mental fortitude to deal with your bipolar-

-Record Screech-

Charlie: -WHY IS VAGGIE BENCHING THE POOL TABLE IN NOTHING BUT A BRA AND HER SKIRT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Hazbins: GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!

Husker: (counting off Vaggie's reps) Forty-eight! Forty-nine! FIFTY!!!! That's it! Vaggie wins!!!

Vaggie: HA!!! (flips the pool table off to the side and stands up victoriously while speaking Spanish) ¡Toda la razón! ¡Paga, Ángel!

Hazbins: (half cheering and half groaning as money exchanges hands and a few lift Vaggie up like a champion)

Angel: (drunkenly slurring in Italian)

Charlie: And WHY are they speaking like that?!

Alastor: (cleaning his monocle) Ms. Vagatha found out that Angel took a video of your drunken stupor last week and demanded he give all copies to her. He said he would only do it if she out drank him.

Charlie: Again. Not her name. And WHAT?!?!?!?!

Alastor: Needless to say, that woman would do anything for you, so they went shot for shot on something called "tequila". Quite the show, if I say so myself. Angel ended up vomiting in the trash can. They've been arguing in Spanish and Italian ever since. It's almost friendly at this point.

Charlie: BUT WHY IS VAGGIE HALF NAKED?!?!?!?!?!

Alastor: (obviously disgusted by the display but keeping his smile) She didn't want to rip her uniform.

Vaggie: (spots Charlie from her elevated position)

¡Charlie, mi amor!

Charlie: (arrow to the heart as she watches Vaggie hop down and strut over to her, eyes zeroed in on the sway of her girlfriend's hips) Oh, fuck..... I'm in trouble....

Vaggie: (hugs Charlie tight before taking her hand and kissing it) ¿Cómo estuvo tu reunión?

Charlie: (gets goosebumps and blushes) UuuUuUhhhHHHhhh.... V-Vaggie, babe, y-you know I'm not good with my Spanish yet.

Vaggie: Lo sé. (chuckles deeply and looks at Charlie through her long lashes as she snakes her arm around Charlie's waist while the other hand strokes her thumb over Charlie's pulse on her wrist) También sé que te gusta cuando te hablo así en español.

Charlie: (blushing deeper as she wiggles out of her suit jacket and wraps it around Vaggie's shoulders) L-Let's get you covered up.

Vaggie: (smirking as she traces her fingers around the waistband of Charlie's trousers and gently untucks her shirt so she can drag her fingers across the pale skin underneath) Eres tan dulce… y tan sexy cuando te sonrojas.

Charlie: (feels her tail and horns spring up as Vaggie's nails drag across the skin of her hip and tries to corral Vaggie towards the door) OH-KAY!!! L-Let's get you upstairs to bed!

Vaggie: (maneuvers herself so she's escorting Charlie up the stairs leading to their room and uses her wings so that she can hover right next to Charlie's ear from behind) Only if you join me~

Charlie: (thighs pinch together as a spark of electricity jolts through her body and whines) ...oh fuck....

Vaggie: Now, you're catching on~

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel incorrect quotes #chaggie #lightweight sequel #drunk vaggie #vaggie #angel #charlie morningstar #vaggie speaks spanish when drunk headcanon #angel speaks italian when drunk hedacanon #alastor #alastor is still condescending #vaggie speaking spanish is charlie's weakness #google translate was heavily used #top vaggie

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helluvapoison · 2 months

Note

Omg its me, you've all been blessed

Heya Pookie

👉👈 can I request some headcanons of Adam, Lucifer, and any third character of your choosing with a male or gender neutral reader who CANNOT SIT STILL EVER.

Like I'm talking, rocks in his seat at the dinner table, shifts from leaning on one foot to the other every two seconds, restless legs in bed, hands fidgeting and fiddling even if he's mid convo (distracting as all hell for the other person) etc etc

pppPpSSHHHHH I'm not projecting my adhd what are you talking about

- kotte

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Heaven is not supposed to be a frustrating place, the very word is borderline illegal!

• But you make him want to pull out his fucking hair

• Compared to Lute, always standing stiff like she has a pole up her ass, you’re relentless

• Your foot taps like you’re killing ants when you sit or you find the weirdest positions to make a chair remotely comfortable— only to get up after .8 seconds!

• It’d be fine if it was just that but your eyes wander when he talks to you

• Adam wants to have your full attention and hates that you can’t provide him with that

• He beat himself up for a week straight when he snapped at you for it, making you think he didn’t want you around when, in actuality, it was the opposite!

• Coming second place to a boring wall or the rips in your pants of all things!? Not gonna work for him

• He used to snap his fingers in front of your nose to win back your focus

• Buuut, by now you’re more than aware that he invades personal space like it doesn’t exist, so he’s long since tried to stop himself from grabbing your chin, pulling it back towards him with a soft growl, “Babe. Wasn’t done.”

• Oh, and if you thought he was above pulling you into his lap… then you don’t know Adam at all

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• To say he understood the moment he saw you would be a lie. At first he thought you were nervous and, hey, who wouldn’t be in the king’s presence!?

• Understanding still prevails to be the perfect word for him

• Strangely, his quirks are much more endearing on you than himself

• Lucifer doesn’t mind when you fuss with his belongings when he talks, often forgetting what the subject was himself and jumping to explain to you what that item you’re holding does

• He made you a duck to fidget with! Looklooklook, it’s eyes bulge out when you squeeze!

• When not hyper-focused but trying to anchor himself to a project, the noise of your movement can drive him up the wall

• He suffers as long as he possibly can because he enjoys your presence

• The absolute last thing he would want would be to make you feel bad about something out of your control

• After all, you’re so compassionate when the tables are turned

• He damn near obliterated the last (and only) person to tell you to “be quiet and sit still”

• Shattered and hollow, curled up on his bed after retiring early that night, Lucifer’s heart beat with agony as you apologized for being too much, too annoying

• “Aw, my dove,” He kisses your knuckles before holding them to his chest like an award to show off on stage, “You’re like the planets; always in motion. How could I be annoyed when you’re just being you? You’re not too much, not for me.”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ doitdoitdoit, project! we’re the same person anyways!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel adam headcanon #hazbin hotel adam imagine #hazbin hotel adam x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar headcanon #poiboiwrites

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

What happens when this guy is mean to darling? Shutting her down? It could be something small.

Darling is getting excited bc she’s talking about some work trip she won and she gets to take her family, and she’s so excited to take the baby away and get some fresh air on a beach somewhere (Simon over hears and packs that away for later. Johnny doesn’t because he’s too busy eyeing this man down) just for dude to interrupt darling, “you can’t travel with an infant. You have to stay home, you’re a parent now. That’s your life” or some shit. Maybe even an “ah you’re a little loud right now, let’s take the volume down.”

Or maybe.. maybe it’s a jealous remark. “Taking your baby daddies too? Or wait..which one is the dad?” Dudes been noticing the tension and maybe he doesn’t handle it well.

either way.

You sink back into yourself a little.

It’s Johnny who cracks. Simon can’t get his hands on him fast enough before Johnny is shoving at this guy.

“Mind repeating that? You’re not gonna talk to her like that.”

Fight ensues. You send dude home because this is a family matter now.

And honestly? Simon has always been a pillar of strength and control. But Johnnys ability to act on emotion and instinct is what makes him such a good man. The man you fell in love with. He’s been struggling and hurt and missing you and how can you stay mad at him? Simon is a planner and has the patience but Johnny is more hot headed.

“When are you going to realize, we’re not going anywhere, darling, I am not going anywhere. You deserve to be treated like gold. And that guy? He ain’t it. He ain’t it because he ain’t me. Ain’t us.”

So darling and Johnny have it out. This confrontation has been needed for a while. Simon just watches, waiting to see if he has to step in. But oh Johnny.

He’d rip out his heart and lay it at your feet if you asked him. He hates this feeling. Hates not being with you and Simon together the way it should be.

His break down is what gets darling to crack a little bit. How can one deny the honesty in such a brazen display of emotion?

So a chance is offered. This little work vacation. Maybe… they can try and see how they’d function as a family. Together. Morning routines and night routines with baby. How they navigate it. If it doesn’t work? Then nope. But if it does?

Maybe their paradise could last forever then huh?

(My southern accent is coming out while writing this, xcuse me)

God yes. I love this. I could indulge in this scenario all day long.

Takes place after one of my favorite asks in the au'verse, here. (bartender anon come back to me)

18+ / disco baby au / mature themes

"Wait, you're taking Bee with you to this conference?" Your boyfriend blinks incredulously, like you hadn't already told him the same information, three times already. Twice last week. Once this week.

"Yes, I told you... the other day, remember?"

"No." He scoffs. "How are you going to manage a baby at a work conference?"

"It's a floor expo, so it's not like I'll be in lectures or anything. Bee will just come along in her carrier, and I'll get to show her the beach for the first time. I know it's going to be a lot but I've been preparing, getting her more used to the carrier and stuff. We’re really excited!" You were over the moon about it. You hadn't been to a beach in so long, and to be able to take your daughter for the first time had you brimming with excitement. You couldn't wait to put her feet in the ocean, let her feel sand. Provide her with all new experiences, watch her learn them and grow.

"And your boss is just okay with you taking your baby, on a work trip?" His voice pitches louder, and you inwardly wince when the conversation that's carrying on in the room slams to a stop.

"Well, yeah."

"You asked her?"

"Kind of, I mentioned that I was going to bring Bee along, and-"

He cuts you off with your name, sharp, and too loud, before sighing.

"You can be so stupid sometimes. You just... never think things through. All emotion and no logic. You really think you can handle that? A baby at a convention? You cry over getting stuck at red lights." The words sting, but they don't surprise you, and you’re about to snap back at him when there's a noise over your shoulder, the sound of your baby, followed by the grind of a deep Manchester accent.

"What's going on in here?" Fuck.

Simon's holding Bee, big hand supporting her back but she's sitting up, face tucked against his chest, thumb in her mouth. She's watching you, tired, waiting for the hand-off from dad to mum, and as it happens, Simon speaks again.

"Darling, take Bee onto the porch." He instructs, and no matter what you do, you can never fight your body and brain's instant willingness to do as he asks.

"Simon, I-"

"Please." He nods, big hand warm on his daughter's back, before it slides down to linger across your forearm. The touch is fleeting, barely there, but it feels like so much more.

You want to say no, want to tell him he doesn't need to get involved, that you're okay, when-

Johnny steps around the blockade that is Simon's body, and launches himself at your boyfriend.

Your shock stopgaps your throat, and then you screech.

"Johnny, stop!" Bee immediately starts crying, a high pitched scream that breaks down into tears. Adrenaline flushes your body, and you stare at him wordlessly. Johnny, who's been cold and distant. Johnny, who's been weird around you. Johnny, who struggles to even make eye contact with you sometimes now, is jumping your boyfriend. In your own house.

"Ye just call her stupid?" His fingers tighten around the shirt collar that’s clutched in his grasp, and your boyfriend sputters.

"Get off me, you fuckin' psycho!"

"I'll show ye psycho, ye piece of shite."

"Take Bee outside, right now." Simon commands, and you spin on your heel, slipping out the sliding door and onto the porch, bouncing your baby as you rock her, soothing her back to her sleepy self.

You ease Bee's bedroom door closed as quietly as you can, clinching it shut without stirring her, your only success in an evening that's gone horribly, awfully wrong.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you have no doubt it's your boyfriend again, seething with rage at being thrown out of your house after you insisted he leave so you could... address certain things.

Why did he say that? What caused that? What made him so upset with you? And what the fuck happened with Johnny?

Simon is sitting on your living room couch, thighs splayed wide, wider than necessary, if you're being honest, while Johnny paces with his arms crossed.

He's also seething mad, boiling with rage, with emotion, and you're not looking forward to any of the conversations you're going to have to now.

Life could have been a lot easier if you had fallen for only one guy, instead of two.

"Look-"

"No."

"Johnny, take a breath." Simon murmurs, and he does, letting it out in a long sigh before turning to face you fully.

"I am sorry, for the way I acted earlier. Ye didn't deserve that, Bee shouldn't have seen it."

"Well, she's a baby so let's hope she doesn't remember." you deadpan, and he frowns before continuing.

"But, I am not sorry for clocking that fuckin' bawbag, and I'd do it again for ye, do it as many times as I had to until ye realize the truth of things."

"Johnny-"

"I know I've been distant. I've been struggling, standoffish. I've been upset, I felt hurt that ye had our baby and never even called us, darling. Never even tried." Rage simmers in your blood.

"You fucking left me!" You snap, and he holds his hands up.

"We did. And I realize now, that my anger was misplaced. That I-"

"You gave me the cold shoulder, Johnny. You wouldn't even hold Bee at first."

"I know, I know. I was lost. And I should've realized earlier, how bloody stupid I was. How much of a fool I was bein'. I love ye, darling. I'm so, so sorry." He stares at you, eyes wide, and you look between him and Simon helplessly.

Simon just shrugs.

"You already know how I feel, 've told you a million times. You're it for me, for us. You and our baby. You're the only family we'll ever need, ever want. You know why we left, why we made the decisions we did. We can't go back and change it, but we can try to move forward."

"And-" Johnny jumps in, but his voice cracks, and you realize he's crying, hands mashed together as they shake. "I know ye don't want to let us in too much, because it's frightening. That we hurt you, that it doesn't matter why we did what we left. But we love you, darling. I love ye, so much. Just give us a chance, please."

"Let us come with you, on the trip." You laugh at Simon, immediately, but he looks at you with full seriousness. "You said it yourself, it will be a lot. Let us come, help with Bee. Spend some time together, see if it could work."

Could you? Would you?

No. They left you, remember? They dumped you. Why-

Your heart flutters and you can't help it, the wash of longing that swamps you. Johnny stares at you so earnestly, his emotions so raw, and it nags at you, reminds you of everything you had. Everything you lost.

What if you did try?

#peaches asks #peaches writes #baby trap au #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader

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fangfic · 1 year

Text

Tw: noncon, unconsciousness, werewolf

Inspired by a very stupid ad for a gay hook up site I keep seeing.

Imagine there is a hookup app that bans you if you don't hookup. Basically whoever likes your profile back you have to fuck. It sounds stupid and dumb at first but since your mind goes goblin mode whenever you're horny you dare to sign up.

In a matter of seconds you find someone interesting and they like you back. Instantly without even giving permission your location is shared and you can see on the map that your hookup is moving.

As you've both liked each other you get access to the previously blurred photos of your date.

Fuck, the guy has a ginormous werewolf knot, that's never gonna fit. You spend minutes staring at his pics in awe untill you hear him knocking on your door.

Suddenly your phone tells you to scan their qr code within a minute or you're gonna be banned and not refunded.

You run towards the door and open it, only to be forced back into your home by the guy, hungrily invading your mouth with his tongue and grabbing your ass.

He grabs your phone to scan the code and throws his and your phone on the couch as he carries you towards the bedroom.

You try to bring in some words, you don't even know his name but it's no use as he rips your pants off and unbuckles his while kissing you.

Once thrown on the bed you can feel the heat of his leaking knot on your stomach, it doesn't take long for him to line up his knot with your slutty fuckhole.

He enters without a warning and forces his knot deep inside you, something in your mind turns off and even though it hurts you already know this won't be the last time you'll have this magnificent cock stir up your insides.

He barely gives you time to breathe let alone speak and you moan into his mouth as he abuses your hole like you're a lifeless object.

As he absolutely ravishes your hole, sliding you up and down his massive rod you start to black out a little and the last thing you remember is him moaning as he fills you up load after load.

The next morning you wake up with a salty taste in your mouth and your hole hurting like hell. You find your phone next to you with a couple of video files ready to be downloaded and a heart ❤️ emoji.

"same time next week? I loved fucking your throat when you were out"

Before you can even reply a new match shows up, fuck if only you had been careful about who to like...

Read my longer stories for free on FangFic dot com where you can also find my ebook if you'd like to support me. 🖤

#nsft #tw monsterfucking #nsft post #nsft concept #nsft text #werewolf kink #werewolf knot #terato #tw noncon #cw noncon

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atinylittlepain · 10 months

Text

Born in the USA - Part One of Hungry Hearts

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ cursing, eventual smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

a/n | hellooooo, folks, and welcome to the first installation of my Hungry Hearts series! i'm so stoked to share this one with y'all, as always let me know what you think!

...................................

The radio DJ called for record-breaking heat simmering the streets of Austin this week, and he certainly delivered. Too hot to think, too hot work, too hot to do much of anything until the sun starts to melt down in the late afternoons. She swears that she can feel the rubber soles of her sneakers sticking to the sidewalk with each step, the heat pressing humid hands to the back of her neck, sweat pooling in all the soft dips of her body. And it’s not like she wants to be out here in the first place. In fact, she would much rather be sitting in front of the box fan in her room right now, calculating how many days, hours, and minutes until she’ll be leaving again for school. It can’t come soon enough.

Nothing much has changed around her neighborhood since she was home in December for her holiday break. Same houses with the sleepy looking windows and basketball hoops in the driveways, same families with the nosey wives and oblivious husbands, same kids getting older and taller and more socially awkward. And the same empty lot at the end of the cul-de-sac that had been turned into patchy baseball field when she was in the first grade.

“Outfield, bring it in a little for this next one!”

“Fuck you, Miller! You’re gonna be eating those words!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that, kid. Show us what you got, why don’t you?” And that’s the same too, unfortunately.

“That’s a strike, wouldn’t you say, Tommy?”

“Sure looked like a strike to me, Joel.” All a bit juvenile, though she would expect nothing less from the Miller brothers. They’re in fine form this afternoon, she thinks, and it seems that all the other girls home from college think the same thing as well, hanging off the chain-link fence and tittering to each other about every ball Joel fields or every fifteen-year-old Tommy stamps out on first. Joel’s idea, no doubt, his eighteen-year-old brother always too happy to hang onto his shirttails and terrorize the pubescent neighborhood kids.

And for his part, Joel seems to know he’s garnered a small audience, just a touch too much flare when the teams switch out and he steps up to bat. He’s dressed in an obscenely short pair of cut-offs, frayed hems grazing along the tan, corded muscles of his thighs. Hi-tops and tube socks, and what once could have been called a shirt, now cropped and unbuttoned so it doesn’t do much but blow in the breeze and expose the lean tautness of his torso. Stance wide, leaning down low in his hips, he winds up the bat right behind his head and lets it rip entirely too hard on the lob he was pitched by that poor fifteen-year-old, sending the ball soaring right over the fence. She has to scoff when the girls she’s standing next to actually clap for him while he drinks it up as he takes a leisurely jog around the plates before jumping down on home with both his feet. And yeah, she thinks, not much has changed, at all.

“Will! Mom wants you home for dinner, let’s go!” Her baby brother, who has decided he is definitely not a baby anymore, does not like her shouting at him one bit, entirely ignoring her with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head from where he’s standing covering first base. Someone else, however, is more than happy to take notice of her.

“Is that? Oh shit! Cherry!” Long and drawn out, Cherryyyyyyyy, with a low whistle at the end. She hasn’t been called that since the last time she saw him, which was last summer in about this same position. Though if there’s one thing she’s gotten good at, it’s ignoring Joel Miller.

“Will, let’s go please!”

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! Why don’t you come over here and show these kids how it’s done? From what I remember you always had a mean little swing.” That gets most of the kids on the field laughing as Joel and Tommy snicker to each other in the makeshift dug out, more of a dirt ditch with a sheet of metal over top of it than anything else.

“Will, I’m not asking, I’m telling. Now.” Maybe she looks like a bitch stomping out onto the field to grab her brother by the arm. She doesn’t care. She’s hot and has sweat dripping in places that sweat should never drip and is coming dangerously close to throttling Joel in front of his little fan club if he doesn’t shut his smug mouth real soon.

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me.” Will doesn’t budge from first when she hooks her hand around his bicep, brooding at her from beneath his bowl cut.

“Do you think I want to be taking you home? Just do me a favor and stop trying to act all tough in front of your little friends so I can go home and get mom off my ass.”

“Hey, Cherry, he’s already got one mom. He doesn’t need you nagging him too!” Joel’s dig drums up another round of laughs from the whole field, and suddenly she’s reconsidering that whole throttling thing. Fine, she thinks, she can do nagging, just wait and see how good she can do nagging. She shifts her tactic, grabbing her brother by the back of his neck instead and starting to haul him along beside her, not giving him time to do anything but trip over his feet in a stilted shuffle to keep up. And of course, it is at that moment that Joel gets the whole crowd of kids started in a chorus of boos.

“Damn, Cherry, when did you become such a tight-ass?” Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the girls still standing along the fence shooting her daggers, maybe it’s just a little bit of all of it that makes her stop dead in her tracks when Joel says that. But before she really knows what she’s doing, she has let go of her brother to march right over to home plate. Seeming a bit surprised that she did, Joel scrambles out of the dug out still too smug for her taste when he comes chest to chest with her.

“Well are you going to give me a bat or what?” His smirk slips into a full grin at that, and for a moment she remembers how pretty she always thought he was. Strong jaw, dark eyes, and that shock of thick, brown hair of his. Such a shame that he’s an enormous tool, really.

“I tell you what, Cherry, what time does your mom want Will home every night?” She knows that look he has in his eyes, all squinted up with his mouth screwed to one side. Always a sucker for a challenge, and she’s all too happy to play along.

“Seven o’clock, why?” He leans in a little closer, ducking his head down like he has the most delicious secret to tell her. She can see the sweat beading and pooling in the hollow of his throat he’s so close.

“Seven o’clock, alright, Cherry. If you can hit a homerun, I will personally see to it that Will is home at seven o’clock on the dot every night for the rest of the summer. How’s that sound?” She tilts her head, hands on her hips like she’s giving it a good think before finally answering him.

“Does he really hang out with you every night?” Joel snorts, his smile going slanted at her.

“Well, someone’s got to keep the kid entertained since you got all boring, miss college.”

“Fine, give me a bat.” That gets her a big grin from him as he backpedals to the dug out to grab a bat for her.

“Let’s switch out who’s fielding. I wanna be on short stop for this hit.” Of course he does. But she thinks to herself that that’s just fine, she’s going to give him a hit to remember.

Tommy was always the nicer of the pair, and as he walks out of the dugout to cover first, he offers her a smile and a shrug as if to apologize for his brother’s dramatics. She always liked Tommy better, even as kids.

She hasn’t done this in a long time. Not since before puberty, probably. She used to play every summer with the Millers and all the other neighborhood kids in this exact lot, and it starts to come back to her as she toes the rubber of her sneakers against home plate. Her palms twist up on the bat, hips shimmying down and back a little to get into the stance, trying her best to focus on the pitcher and not the drawling heckling going on between second and third. He’s doing a warbling rendition of that old Four Seasons song, and she’s pretty sure that the name in the lyrics is Sherry, not Cherry. But he has made it fit with his own demented drone, crooning as he sways a little side to side.

Cherryyyyy, Cherry, baby, Cherryyyyy, can you come out tonight

Youuuuu better ask your mama, Cherry baby

Deep breath in, deep breath out, she has her eyes focused on the ball leaving the soft cradle of the pitcher’s fingers. Like riding a bike, really, the quick swing in her hips and the satisfying crack of the ball hitting the middle of her bat, and, oh. Oh.

“Motherfucker!” It’s not like she meant to, but it’s also not like she’s mad that she did. It was a nice hit, strong and straight, right between second and third. And, well, straight into Joel’s groin.

“What are you doing? Get up, man!” Tommy is all but shrieking at his brother. Joel, however, is still crumpled on the ground and groaning, his hands clenched between his thighs from what she can tell with her quick glances as she jogs from first to second. But she quickly realizes that it’s not just his hands clutched between his legs, but the ball too. And, well, it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon to field that one.

“If you could have him home more around ten till that’d be great, thanks.” If he hears her talking over his curled up body, he makes no show of it, still groaning and writhing around in the dirt with his eyes scrunched shut. She steps over him and continues a much more leisurely pace through third and home.

“Will, let’s go.” Her brother, slack-jawed with his eyes practically popping out of his head, finally listens to her, falling into step alongside her as she can’t help a smirk sliding over her lips. She has to roll her eyes when several of the girls rush out onto the field to fawn over Joel who still seems to be incapacitated and on his knees.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” She tries not to laugh at Will’s exclamation, bumping his shoulder with her own as they start to head home.

“He’ll live.”

…

Sure, he’s always had a competitive streak, he’s not about to deny that. But that competitive streak may, emphasis on may, have gotten a little out of hand now that it’s his baby girl that’s in the competition and not him. Sarah has a talk with him before every game about it. About not yelling at the umpire, about not constantly asking her if she’s staying hydrated in the dugout, and, what she calls the most important point, about not trying to heckle the other team. And everytime, Joel promises her that, yes, he’s going to keep his cool and stay on the bleachers like every other normal and sane parent. And he tries, he really does. But, well, try is the operative word.

“Alright, babygirl, just like we practiced. Keep your eye on the ball and let your hips lead.” It’s the middle of June, the sun bright and beating down hard on the local ball fields where Joel spends most of his weekends cheering Sarah on in her softball matches. He is not sitting on the bleachers like every other normal and sane parent. He is hovering at the side of the dug-out with his head stuck out just enough that the umpire won’t yell at him to get back while he coaches Sarah on her swing. Sarah, however, does not seem particularly grateful for his pointers, glaring at him from beneath her helmet as she steps up to the plate.

“Strike!” Swing and a miss. Joel has to remind himself that no, it is not appropriate to swear at a little league softball game, settling instead for a quick clap of his hands.

“That’s alright, baby, that’s alright. Shake it off, baby, focus.”

“Dad, please.” She says it with a dejected tap of her bat against the plate, the universal sign for back off, now. And sure, he thinks, he can back off, a few feet back toward the bleachers so his girl can focus on her swing, sure.

“Strike two!”

“Goddamnit.” He says it quietly enough that he’s pretty sure no one else hears it before stepping back closer to the plate, because obviously Sarah needs a little help here.

“C’mon, baby, you got this. Shake it off. Don’t choke up on the bat like that, baby, nice and easy.”

“Strike three, you’re–”

“Hey, that wasn’t a strike!” Sarah is going to be so mad at him on the drive home, but he’s too busy stepping over to the umpire to yell at him to be worried about that right now.

“Sir, please go sit down on the bleachers.”

“That pitch was way to the right, I saw it, that wasn’t a strike.”

“Dad, it’s fine, I’m out. Just go sit down, please.” Sarah has already taken her helmet off, nudging her bat into the toe of his boot like, hello, you’re embarrassing me here. But Joel knows what he saw, and what he saw was a way to the right pitch that most certainly was not a strike.

“Baby, you are not out, okay? Put your helmet back on.”

“Sir, your daughter is out, now please go sit–”

“Just give her one more shot, man. C’mon.”

“Hey! Three strikes and you’re out, buddy.” It’s a woman’s voice, coming from somewhere behind him, a parent from the other team most likely, though he doesn’t turn around to see who it is, still staring down the umpire.

“That wasn’t a strike!” He tosses the exclamation over his shoulder, but the woman doesn’t seem ready to back down either.

“Are you saying my daughter doesn’t know how to pitch?” Alright, lady, if you want in on the action, be his guest. He turns around slowly, ready to deliver some sort of clever reply that he hasn’t quite worked out in his mind when–

“Oh shit. Cherry?”

“Wow, I haven’t been called that in nearly two decades.” So it is her. And of course it’s her. He’d recognize her anywhere, even seventeen years later. Still that little jut of her hip when she’s pissed, still that little crook of her chin like a challenge, even seventeen years later.

“So you’re still a competitive bastard then?” Yeah, and still that too, seventeen years later.

“I– you– that wasn’t a strike.”

“Oh, yes it was.”

“It was not.”

“My daughter doesn’t pitch balls on two strikes, okay? That was a strike.” With that, she leans to the side to talk to Sarah standing behind him.

“My condolences to you for having to deal with him, kid.”

“Thanks, you’re catching him on a good day, actually.”

“Hey.” He whips around to scold Sarah, but she’s still focused on Cherry.

“How do you know my dad?”

“Oh, me and him go way back. Don’t we, Joel?” He finds himself opening and closing his mouth a few times, looking between Sarah and a woman he thought he would never see again, though before he can get a reply out, the umpire mercifully cuts off their little reunion.

“Folks, there is still an active game going on here. Sir, your daughter is out, so if you could all please get off of home plate so we can keep this game going that’d be great.” Sarah has to tug him back to her team’s dugout, promptly pushing him over and onto the bleachers while he continues to stare at Cherry like she might disappear. She has walked back to the bleachers for her daughter’s team, though she stands on the sideline with her hands on her hips now.

“You’re all good, Els. Just keep them coming, babe.” His attention draws over to the pitcher to whom Cherry is talking to because, right, she’s Cherry’s daughter. Cherry has a daughter, holy shit. Well, so does he. He has to laugh to himself, a little shake to his head.

A lot can certainly happen in seventeen years.

…

The thing that she hadn’t considered in agreeing to Joel Miller’s little deal was that it would still mean seeing a good amount of Joel Miller. Seven o’clock every night to be exact. Actually, ten till, so he did listen, at least. And of course he’s all smiles and charm, and of course her mother invites him in for dinner every night, and of course he says yes, and of course she has to sit across from him, kicking away his foot every time it encroaches on her space.

“So, Joel, are you still over at Thatcher’s full time?” She tries not to scoff at her mother’s question, the subtle turn of her nose and the slight tinge of judgment quirking up the end of her words. Her mother and her penchant for pedigree, something that the Miller family definitively does not have. If it bothers him, however, Joel doesn’t show it, smiling and thumbing the corner of his mouth as he finishes chewing.

“Yes, ma’am, seven days a week.”

“And does that pay well, son?” Ah yes, the one-two tag team of her mother and father both jumping in now, her father doing that thing where he pretends not to know, his eyebrows falling in mock curiosity. When, really, she’s nearly certain he has already calculated in his head exactly how much Joel makes in a week, month, and year busting his ass in that mechanic shop.

“Well, sir, I’ve got no complaints. Roof over my head and food on my table. And, uh, the tips are pretty good.” That one flies right over both her parents’ heads, but he says it looking directly at her, his eyes crinkling up with a smile that only tugs one corner of his mouth, sleaze and smarm. She is well aware of the tips he pulls in from all the bored little housewives and their daughters, something that always seems to be the topic of conversation on the loungers at the community pool.

If he’s trying to get a rise out of her right now, she’s going to make sure he fails at it, giving him a tight-lipped smile and kicking his shin hard under the table where his foot has started to nudge against hers again. Joel lets out a hard cough, the table shaking a bit when his knee jumps up in reaction.

“Alright, son?”

“Yessir, I think all this heat is finally getting to me is all. I better head on home, but thank y’all for the meal, it’s very kind of you.” Her mother frets and fusses over him, insisting he take a tupperware of meatloaf and salad home and telling him to bring Tommy along next time. Great, she thinks, frick and frack both coming for dinner will be double the fun. Though she’s quickly distracted from that thought when her father lets out a long sigh from the head of the table.

“Such a shame that young man is working like that. It’s a waste of potential, honestly.”

“Oh, honey, don’t.”

“I’m serious, Carol. He was always a smart kid, probably could have gone to college, but instead he’s working in that car shop with seemingly no drive for anything more for himself. I just can’t believe Deedee and Hank are letting him carry on like that.” She knows this spiel well. Next her father will angle his chair toward Will and level his finger at him and–

“Will, you know what I was doing when I was Joel’s age?” Will huffs and rolls his eyes, slumping back in his chair like this is the hundredth time he has heard this, probably because it is.

“Getting ready for law school, dad.”

“I was getting ready for– yes, son, that’s right. And now look at me. Beautiful home, beautiful family, and a good job. Do you know what Joel Miller is going to have to show for himself at my age if he keeps going the way he is now?”

“A whole lot of nothing, dad.”

“A whole lot of– yes, son, that’s right. At this rate, he’s probably still going to be living in that shoebox apartment above Thatcher’s when he’s forty.”

“Can I be excused please?” She tries to hold back the contempt snapping through her words, already getting out of her seat before her mother can ask her what’s wrong. For as much as Joel Miller gets on her nerves, she hates this more, this faux pity her father so easily slips into, turning him into a lesson. And not a very good one at that, because while Joel may not be in college or raking in money, he at least seems happy, and she thinks that’s more than her father can say. She knows it’s more than she can say, staring up at the ceiling in her bedroom, this time trying to calculate the minutes until she gets to go back to school. She only makes it through tallying up the rest of June though before something tapping on her window distracts her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey, Cherry.” He’s lucky her room is on the first floor, or else she would have already shut her window. Though she can’t really do that when he’s standing right there in her mother’s shrubs with a wide grin that glints in the hazy dusk.

“What do you want, Joel?”

“Mikey Donahue is having a party at his house. You wanna come? Have a little fun?”

“Uh, no, thanks.” She goes to shut her window again, but Joel holds it in place, not letting it budge no matter how hard she pushes down on it.

“Oh, c’mon. You used to be fun, what happened to that girl, huh?”

“I grew up, which seems to be more than you can say.”

“Oh, how you wound me, Cherry baby.”

“When are you going to stop calling me that? Nobody else calls me that these days except for you.”

“When you do something funnier than snorting cherry cola out of your nose.” At this point, she has given up on trying to close the window, resting her palms along the sill to lean out so she can whisper yell right into his entirely too smug face.

“I was nine, Joel. And it was your fault for making me laugh that hard.”

“So you admit that I make you laugh?”

“You’re impossible.”

“That wasn’t a no, Cher.” All she can do is huff at him and his relentless grin, taking a moment to look him over. A little more dressed than usual, still in those cut-offs of his, but with an actual flannel shirt on top, sleeves rucked up to his elbows and with a few more buttons undone than what had been during dinner, slipping open even more when he leans down with his hands spread wide on the sill.

“Come on, it’s summer, and I know you’re not having any fun up in Chicago–”

“I have plenty of fun in Chicago.” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead when she interrupts him so quick, the snap of her words telling him just how untrue that statement actually is.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Just do an old friend a favor, Cherry, and come out with me tonight, huh? Really, it’s the least you can do after you almost busted my balls.”

“I was doing a public good by lessening the chances of little Joel Millers running around here in the future.” He lets out a long laugh at that, tossing his head back, the long line of his neck bobbing with the sound.

“Touché, but fine, if you don’t wanna come I guess I could always go knock on Lisa-Anne’s window. She got home last week.” He knows exactly what he’s doing by saying that, already pushing off the window and starting to walk away. Fine, she thinks, he can go have fun with stupid fucking Lisa-Anne from down the block. It’ll probably make her whole summer considering that she’s had a crush on him since his front teeth came in in the second grade.

“Joel, wait!” He stops dead in his tracks, one foot still stuck in the shrubs outside her window as he turns around, his lips pursed to stave off what she’s sure would be a shit-eating grin. She’s already swinging one leg out of her window, trying to do so with as much grace as she can, though she still stumbles a bit in the shrubs,grabbing onto Joel’s arm to steady herself before quickly letting go with a huff.

“Just for a little while, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Cherry baby.”

…

He’s not sure what the appropriate thing to do is in this situation. Not really any rules of etiquette for seeing a woman you didn’t think you’d ever see again, seventeen years later, and with a kid no less. All he knows is that he can’t let her drive off without saying something, so even as Sarah is calling his name like a question, he’s walking through the ballfield parking lot toward where she’s helping her daughter pack her bags into the trunk of their minivan.

“Uh, hey.” Great start, man, Jesus Christ. She turns around and smiles, smiles, and suddenly it’s summer of ‘86 all over again.

“Woah, old man, back off a little.” And suddenly it is most definitely not summer of ‘86, her kid stepping between the two of them and giving him a look that could kill.

“Ellie, manners please. Why don’t you wait in the car?”

“But, mom–”

“No buts, it’s fine, alright? I’ll just be a minute.” Her daughter, Ellie, huffs, giving him one more squinted look before she shuffles over to the side of the car, getting in with a hard slam of her door.

“So, mom, huh?” She tilts her head at him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans and her shoulders shrugging up.

“It looks that way. And dad?” She jerks her chin over his shoulder and he turns around to see Sarah standing by their car with one hand held over her eyes for shade as she squints at them. She’s never going to let him live this down.

“Looks that way, yeah. Are you– I didn’t– you’re back in town?” He’s trying to subtly look for a ring on her left hand, though her knuckles are still tucked into her jean pockets, and he’s pretty sure squinting at her pelvis is not a good way to make an impression in this unexpected reunion.

“Yeah, we moved back at the start of June.”

“And when you say we, that’s– that’s you and–”

“Just Ellie and I, yep.” He has to try really hard not to smile at that, dragging a palm down his scruff to keep it at bay.

“So you never left, huh?”

“Uh, no, nope. Hopped a few neighborhoods over though. I don’t know if you heard, but the old block got torn down.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was, they put in a bunch of condos over it.”

“Well I guess the times really have changed.” He should probably say something else, should probably get back to Sarah, but he can’t stop looking at her, and it seems like she can’t stop looking at him. Both of them studying all the places that time and life has settled. Her hair is shorter, he likes it, though he probably should keep that to himself. Before he can say anything, however, the blare of a car horn startles them both out of each other’s gaze.

“Mom, let’s go.” Ellie has stuck her head out of the driver side window, the source of their interruption, already tucking back inside the car with another groan. Cherry just shakes her head.

“That’s my cue. I guess we’ll see each other around then, since our daughters are playing in the same league and all.” It still gives him pause, our daughters, and he has to clear his throat before responding.

“I guess so, reckon we’re gonna give the umps a summer to remember.” She laughs, and he remembers that sound, still the same. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear it again, but now he’s glad that he does.

“For the record, that was a strike.”

“Whatever you say, Cherry.”

“Can’t believe you’re still calling me that.”

“Can’t believe you never did anything funnier than snorting cherry coke out of your nose.” All he gets from her at that is another shake of her head before she turns around to get in her car. Luckily, she doesn’t see the way he runs right into the open trunk of someone else’s car because of the way he’s slowly shuffling backward to get one more look at those jeans of hers from behind. He only realizes that he’s smiling like a fool when he gets into the car and Sarah shoots him a look from the passenger seat.

“Okay, you’re acting weird. Who was that?”

“Just a very old friend.”

........................................

tags for the moots and folks i think are interested - lmk if you want added or dropped : @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #hungry hearts

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