Jake Lockely, Still In The Tomb Probably:

it’s you.

despite everything,

it’s still you.

Black Silk

Status: One-Shot

Pairing: Jack Russell x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.8k+

AN: There is a heartwrenching lack of Jack Russell content on Tumblr, so I'm here to throw my hat in the ring. Enjoy a whole lot of fluff and, yes, sensual sniffing with everyone's favorite wolf boy.

Read my other Jack Russell works here and here.

Translations:

"Cautivante" — "captivating"

"Mi amada" — "my darling," "my love"

"Señorita" — equivalent of "miss"

"Lo siento" — "I'm sorry"

. . .

When you see the dark figure walking along the side of the bustling highway, you’re sure it’s for the first time. After all, you’ve been driving this route every day for years now; you know it like the back of your hand. In your swiftly moving car—hey, so what if you like driving six miles over the speed limit at all times, sue you—you aren’t able to catch many details. A dark outfit and mop of ruffled hair is all that your mind absorbs in the brief moment you have to gather information. As you fly past, your eyes linger on the figure in your rearview mirror.

Are they lost? Having car trouble? Homeless? Your heart clenches as you watch several other cars pass up stopping for the stranger in addition to your own. You’ve listened to enough true crime podcasts to know some core rules to live by. Sure, none of them explicitly stated, ‘Don’t pick up strangers off the side of the highway,’ but you felt you could gather as much from context clues. Still, as the figure’s form grows smaller in your mirror, you find yourself heaving a reluctant sigh. It’s unusually cold for late October—under forty currently, with a low of twenty-nine degrees expected tonight—and the sun will set in just a handful of hours. If you’re driving with your seat warmers on, you know the stranger must be freezing. You don’t think they were even wearing a coat. 

After you’ve pulled off the side of the road, you throw the gear in reverse to close the distance between yourself and your stranger. The figure stops in the glow of your red tail lights, anticipating your approach. When you’re several feet away, you throw the vehicle in park, grab your bottle of pepper spray, and slip out of the car before you can change your mind.

The face that greets you when you turn around is…endearing. Your stranger is a middle-aged man with warm-toned skin, a prominent nose, and a strong, square jaw. His salt-and-pepper hair looks like it’s been freshly touseled, complimenting the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw. His green eyes are wide as he stares at you, his pale pink lips parted in surprise.

Standing here with his startled eyes upon you, you suddenly feel incredibly awkward. Maybe he didn’t want to be helped. Maybe he was perfectly fine walking on the side of the highway. Then, a frigid wind whisks past you, cutting right through your cashmere sweater, and you decide no, there was no way. This guy was dressed in nothing more than a plain black crew neck sweater and dark jeans. It was impossible for him to not be freezing.

“Uh, hi,” you greet him awkwardly with a small, sheepish wave. “I’m sorry, I know this is really abrupt, but I just saw you walking on the side of the road and…aren’t you freezing?”

The stranger’s eyebrows jump upward in surprise. He looks down at his clothes as if wondering to himself, ‘Should I be cold?’ He lifts his head to look at you again. “Uh, no. I’m not, actually.” His voice is soft, lilting slightly with a distinct accent. He offers you a small smile. There’s something about the slight crook of his teeth on the upper left hand side of his mouth that melts the awkwardness from your bones. “I guess you could say I’m pretty warm blooded. I always run a little on the hot side.” 

You nod thoughtfully, though you really can’t fathom how he’s not freezing his ass off right now. “Okay. Well, why are you walking out here? Where are you coming from?”

“Ah, my friend and I recently moved here. I live just that way,” he explains with enthusiasm, pointing one hand toward the expansive forest sprawling off the side of the highway. 

Your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly. You’ve lived in this area all your life, have spent countless weekends walking the trails in those very woods. You know no one lives within them. Is he homeless, then? you wonder. Deeming it rude to pry, you instead respond, “Oh, okay. Well, is there anywhere you want me to take you?” 

The stranger’s eyebrows raise again, as if this thought had never occurred to him. “Actually, I was just walking to town to get coffee for my friend and I. Once a month we have a bit of…a, uh…a wild night, you could say. I was trying to get prepared before dark.”

You purse your lips, debating on how to give him the bad news. He definitely must be new to the area. “Well, I hate to tell you this, mystery man, but you’re moving away from town.” You point your finger in the opposite direction of where he was walking, back toward where you’d driven from. “Town is about twenty minutes that way.”

The stranger’s face falls at your words. Something about the tender disappointment in his expression reminds you of a kicked puppy. Your heart clenches at the sight. “Oh,” he says softly, seemingly at a loss for words. 

You offer him a friendly smile, seeking to lift his spirits. “I could drive you, if you wanted.” The words are out of your mouth before you even have time to contemplate them. What the fuck? the logical, true-crime-podcast-obsessed part of your mind hisses. Your pitiful heart pushes back, still insistent on helping this poor, coffee-needing, puppy-esque man. 

The stranger’s eyes brighten for a moment, glimmering a brilliant shade of grassy green. But then he lifts his hands, as if in apology. “That is very kind of you, señorita, but I must decline. I really need to be back before dark.” His voice is slightly anxious as he raises his hand to scratch behind one ear. 

Señorita. Your heart melts slightly at the word. Why were accents always so damn endearing? You shake your head at him. “Nonsense. If you need to be back before dark, that’s all the more reason for me to take you. You’ll never make it back in time on foot.” 

The stranger seems to weigh this hefty truth, nibbling his bottom lip in thought. The crook in his teeth peeks out at you adorably. Staring is rude, you chastise yourself, tearing your eyes from the sight. After a long moment of hesitation, he gives a slow nod. “Alright, you’ve got me. I thank you for your generosity.” 

You give him a wide, toothy grin, beckoning him back toward your vehicle. As he climbs into the passenger seat, you quirk an eyebrow at him expectantly. “No thanks needed, mystery man. I will, however, require payment in the form of your name.” 

The stranger gets to work making himself comfortable, burrowing his back into the warmth of the heated seat. He peers at you out of the corner of his eye at your question, watching you curiously. After a long moment, his lips draw into a slow smile. “Jack. Jack Russell,” he says quietly with a nod of affirmation. 

Your lips upturn slowly, mirroring his. “Well, Jack Russell, it’s nice to meet you. Now, let’s go get you that coffee.” 

. . .

The more you observe your new friend during your drive, the more convinced you are that his spirit animal would be a dog. Jack rides with his high cheekbone pressed against the window, his green eyes bright and curious. The radiant, warm-toned fall foliage passes by in a blur outside, along with birds, cars, and road signs. His eager eyes flicker about, taking in all of it in rapid succession. Your heart flutters at the earnesty in his gaze, the bone-deep contentment in his expression. If picking up this handsome, puppy-eyed stranger off the side of the highway was how you became the subject of one of your true crime podcasts…well, so be it. 

Several quiet minutes into your drive, you clear your throat quietly, seeking to break the silence. “So, Jack, where are you from?”

Jack’s gaze lingers on a small cluster of deer grazing beside the treeline before he draws his eyes to you. When he does, his gaze is all-consuming, attentive. Having grown up in a world with constant sources of distraction, the sheer intensity of his focus on you is startling. “I have lived in many places, actually. I typically do not stay in one space for too long. My work keeps me busy.” 

Your heart clenches slightly at his admission, and you mentally chastise yourself for it. Why be disappointed that he doesn’t stick around? It wasn’t as if you were liable to see him again, anyway. “Oh, I see. Well, what do you do for work?” 

A heavy pause. “I hunt monsters,” he says seriously. 

His words hang in the air for a long moment, suspended. Then, your abrupt laughter fills the car. Sure, the two of you might live in a world of spidermen, aliens, and tech genius superheroes, but you had never heard of any monsters. Jack gives you a cheeky grin, the quiet rumble of laughter in his throat joining in with yours. “Ah, a comedian, then,” you comment, shooting him a knowing glance. “And your friend? What do they do?” 

Jack’s eyes turn to the ceiling of your car, that warm grin still plastered on his face. “I suppose you could say we’re a traveling duo,” he says simply. 

You shake your head incredulously, a soft chuckle purring in your throat. You’re inclined to pry more, but think better of it. After all, you’d only asked for his name in payment for the ride, not his entire life story. “You said you had a wild night planned. What are you up to?” 

Jack’s olive green eyes turn to you again, dancing in the low light of the late-afternoon sun. His cheeks are flushed pink from the warmth of the car. “We’re going to…watch the moon,” he responds. 

Now, that one makes you deadpan. “Watch the moon,” you echo, eyebrows lifting in surprise. 

Jack only hums in response, affixing you with a closed-mouth smile and a self-satisfied gaze. His eyes twinkle in challenge, as if to say, ‘You don’t believe me?’ You pin him with a knowing look and a smirk of your own as you flick your blinker on, turning into the approaching Walmart parking lot. “Alright, mystery man, keep your secrets,” you say with a laugh. “We’re here. Let’s get you that coffee so you can get on to your…moon watching.” 

Pulling into the first parking spot you see, you turn off the car and exit it swiftly, Jack following quickly behind you. Though nightfall is a little over an hour off, you want to be conscientious of his need to get home before dark, especially if he was going to be trekking through the woods. As you walk toward the grocery entrance, Jack’s head moves on a swivel, taking in the sight of customers coming to and from the building like a kid in a candy store. Lost in thought, he nearly walks directly into an elderly woman pushing her cart toward her car. Jumping back just in time, he murmurs a sheepish, “Lo siento,” and bows his head in apology before shuffling after you. An amused chuckle rises up in your throat, and you trap it behind a smile. 

As the two of you approach the grocery entrance, you spy the familiar sight of a Girl Scout’s booth set up just outside. A young girl, likely not even ten-years-old, stands beside the booth, her scout’s sash displayed proudly over the thick coat she wears. She bravely steps forward as customers enter and exit the store to give her brief sales pitch. Your heart aches at the crestfallen expression on her face when customers respond with gentle denials. Your hand is dipping into your purse before you even realize it, your fingers clasping onto your wallet. 

“Hi,” you say kindly as you and Jack come to a stop beside her booth. She turns toward you quickly, all bouncy black curls and brown doe eyes. You give her a radiant smile as you hold out a handful of bills. “I’ll take a box of Tagalongs and Adventurefuls, please. And you can keep the change.” 

The girl positively beams at you as she accepts your money with tentative fingers. When she places the boxes in your hands moments later, you add with a wide smile, “Thank you so much. You have no idea how you just made my day.” 

Tagalongs and Adventurefuls in tow, you and Jack walk into the store with purpose in your step. As your eye searches for the aisle marker labeled ‘Coffee,’ you can’t help but notice Jack staring at you out of the corner of your eye. At first, you think it’s just a momentary glance, but when you still spy his face turned toward you after several seconds of walking, you turn to look at him fully. He’s pinning you with the same thoughtful gaze as he had in the car, all closed-lipped smiles and twinkling eyes. As if he’s collecting observations of you and bottling them up, studious impressions reserved for him and him alone. 

Suddenly acutely self-conscious, you give him a nervous smile. “What is it?” you ask, voice quiet with hesitation. 

Jack’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he dips his head to his chest, his eyes never straying from yours. “You are very kind, señorita. Helping strangers as you do.” His voice is soft and earnest, each word carefully crafted and caressed as they pass the curve of his pink lips. He seems to smile a little wider as he adds, “Myself included.” 

Your lips part slightly in surprise at his statement, heat flushing your cheeks in a rush. Was it hot in this Walmart or what? You’d need to tell a manager that the thermostat was a little off if you spotted one. “Well, I’m definitely not perfect, but the world desperately needs more kindness. I try to do what I can,” you say bashfully. Seeking to divert the focus of conversation from yourself, you fix him with a knowing gaze. “You seem like a pretty nice guy yourself.” 

Jack chuckles quietly at you, turning his olive green eyes to the aisle signs overhead. “You are too generous to this stranger, señorita. I try to be as kind as I can. I struggle once in a full moon, but I suppose we all do.” 

You giggle good-naturedly at his slip. “You mean once in a blue moon?”

Jack’s lips part slightly, his expression one of genuine surprise. However, it lasts only a moment. He quickly gives you a sheepish grin, raising a hand to scratch hastily behind his ear. A nervous tick, you supposed. “Uh, yes, right. Of course.” 

Within moments, you find yourself alongside the coffee aisle. You dip into it swiftly, Jack following only a step behind. You come to a stop in the center of the coffee section, a wide array of possibilities available before you. “So, what kind are you looking for?” you ask expectantly. 

Jack’s eyes rove over the options quickly, seemingly seeing everything and nothing at once. His dark brows knit inward as he admits, “I…I’m not sure. My friend, Ted, normally gets the coffee. I haven’t any idea what I am looking for.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise. If this man had no idea what type of coffee to get, there was only one way to proceed. “Black Silk,” you say matter-of-factly. 

Jack turns to you slowly, confusion pinching his handsome features. “Black silk?” he echoes, the words rolling off his tongue without recognition. 

You nod wholeheartedly, eyes imploring and earnest. If there was one way you could truly help this man today, it would be this. “Yes. Folgers’ Black Silk. The only option when it comes to purchasing coffee. Especially if you don’t know where to start.” You beckon him toward the shelves of familiar red containers. Your trained eye finds the black-labeled tub instantly, and you crouch down, grabbing the largest option with eager fingers. “Let me tell you, mystery man. This coffee right here? A life changer.” 

“Oh.” Jack’s eyes are wide as saucers as he looks from you, to the container in your hands, and back to you. One corner of his full lips creeps upward as he gazes at you in equal parts amusement and intrigue. “A life changer, you say?” 

You nod. 

“And you think I need the largest tub they have?” An adorable peekaboo from that crooked grin of his. If you didn’t stop staring, you’d be reduced to nothing but a puddle on the floor. Clean up in Aisle 20.

“Yes. You’ll thank me later. If you’re doubting me…” Your gaze sweeps the aisle on either side of you. It’s just the two of you here, alone. Your fingers make quick work of popping the lid from its place and peeling back a section of the Aromaseal within. “...then just smell it. I promise, all your doubts will be erased.” 

Jack’s eyes dance with amusement as his gaze flickers between you and the coffee. You hold your ground, a challenge portrayed in the slant of your smirk. As if to say, ‘Yes, this is a hill I will die on.’ After several moments of bated breath, Jack lowers his head to the lip of the container. Instead of drawing in a long inhale like most human beings, he sucks in several short, rapid sniffs in succession. In that moment, you’re signed, sealed, and delivered–this man’s spirit animal is undeniably a dog, without question. Shaking your head incredulously, you close your eyes and dip your chin to savor the aroma yourself. 

The first word that enters your mind as you draw in a deep inhale is ‘bold.’ The scent of the dark roast is rich and robust as it weaves through your senses, awakening them instantaneously. The aroma is intense, luxurious, alluring. Your mouth waters unbidden as you hold the scent in, savoring it, before exhaling slowly through your nose. You can practically taste the notes of dark chocolate and smoke on your tongue. 

Satisfied, you slowly open your eyes. When you do, you find yourself gazing into two pools of olive green. Jack stares at you over the container of Black Silk between you, his eyes thoughtful, watchful, attentive. There is a gentleness behind his soft gaze, something intangible in the supple curve of his lips and his vaguely knotted brow that is fond, affectionate. 

“Cautivante.” The endearment is spoken on a breath, so faint you’re unsure you truly heard it. Your eyes fall to Jack’s lips, now parted slightly with bated breath. Your heartbeat flutters rapidly in your chest, fast as hummingbird wings, making you dizzy. Your very flesh seems to sing under his enthralled gaze, your skin warm and flushed, your knees weak. Unable to pry your eyes from the softness of his lips, the dip of his Cupid’s Bow. Your own lips seem to hum under his watch, calling out to him, buzzing so intensely you’re certain he must be able to see it, to feel it. As if drawn together by an invisible thread, you see him inch imperceptibly closer, and you mirror him, the song in your bones growing louder and louder– 

Ca-thunk. The sound nearly startles you out of your skin, slicing clean through the tension of the moment. Jumping backward, you turn to look past Jack at a very uncomfortable-looking woman several paces away. It’s very clear that she had been aware of your little….moment and had been trying to grab her tub of coffee unnoticed. Sorry, she mouths with a pained grimace. She dips down to grab the container of French roast that she had dropped on the floor and scurries off without another word. 

Fuck, your mind groans as panic sets in. Your gaze reluctantly slides to Jack, expecting to find his face twisted in regret, mortification, or awkwardness. Instead, you find him still watching you intently, captivated, spellbound. His olive eyes drink in your features like a man starved of drink. The feeling steals your breath away. 

You watch as his lips part wider, as he draws in a breath to speak. A rush of white hot panic sends your heart leaping into your throat at the sight. What would he say? Nerves thoroughly fried, you weren’t sure you could handle it, good or bad. So you beat him to it, hastily blurting out, “So, did you like it?” 

For a long moment, Jack’s expression hangs suspended, still as stone. He scarcely breathes as his eyes rove over your features, searching. You give him an awkward half-smile, mentally loathing yourself and your painful awkwardness in matters of affection. Part of you wants to tuck tail and run as far away from here as possible, hoping to save some scrap of your dignity. A bigger part of you wants to take his handsome, stubbled face in your hands and press those blush pink lips to yours, throwing caution to the wind. 

But neither of those things happen. When Jack finally releases the breath he’s been holding, the sound is low, wistful. “Yes, I liked it very much,” he says quietly, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t place. 

You release a bated breath of your own. Regret fills the space it once occupied, cold and heavy. “Alright, then…Great. Let’s get you home to your friend.”

. . . 

The ride back from town is quiet. Well, quiet on the outside. The inside of your mind is utter turmoil, a cacophonous tirade of:

What the fuck were you thinking–

Damn that woman–

He’s still a stranger, you know. You never should have picked up a stranger–

His lips were so perfect, how the hell can he be so–

“Here will do.” 

Jack’s soft voice startles you out of your mental beratement so abruptly that you have to white-knuckle the steering wheel to keep from swerving. Your eyes flicker to the side of the road where you’re currently driving, a grassy hill leading down to the forest beyond. You look at him next, eyes settling on his clasped hands, the fingers that he’s been twiddling for the past twenty minutes. “Here?” you say, your voice quiet. “Are you sure?” 

Jack gazes at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips upturned in a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, I’m sure. I live just a couple miles from here. If I begin walking now, I can arrive home before dark.” 

Ah, yes, nightfall. Your eyes turn to the dipping sun, just barely visible over the treeline to your left. It paints the sky in gold and burnt orange, the clouds overhead dip dyed in radiant shades of pink and purple. Your heart clenches at the sight, at the thought that time is running out. You turn on your blinker and pull into the gravel off the side of the highway with a lump in your throat. 

The two of you sit in still silence for a moment as you shift the car into park. The air in the cab is thick with nerves, with words left unsaid, actions left undone. You nibble at your bottom lip anxiously, wondering what on earth you could say to cut the tension. 

Jack beats you to it. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance, señorita.” His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes wide and emphatic. He gives you a small smile. Your eyes drink in the sight greedily, committing it to memory. “Thank you for helping this poor stranger. You have a warm and generous heart. I will leave you to continue your night in peace.” 

Peace. Your heart knows no such feeling as his hand closes around the grocery bag between his legs, as his fingers clasp the car door handle. Your heart revolts as he pushes the door open and begins to step out of the car. Sure, this was all your fault. You’d known from the get-go that your mystery man wasn’t sticking around. He’d told you as much himself. But that didn’t change how outright wrong it felt to watch him go. It didn’t change how desperately you wanted him to stay, the lengths you’d go to see him again, just one more time. Moon watching be damned. 

“Jack,” you say suddenly, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. Your mystery man’s posture stiffens slightly, followed by a slow, agonizing turn as he shifts to look back within the car, back at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, your eyes rove over his face, searching, imploring. “Will I see you again?” Your voice is small, fearful, hopeful. 

Jack’s eyes widen at the raw emotion in your voice, a wealth of words said and unsaid. His green eyes search your face, picking you apart, reading you like a cherished novel. Whatever he finds within your expression, it prompts him to crouch down, reaching the front half of his body into the passenger side of the car. His earnest eyes do not stray from yours as he gently takes your right hand from the steering wheel. His fingertips are warm and lightly calloused as he lifts the sleeve of your sweater ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your skin as he nestles his nose against the soft flesh of the inside of your wrist. Slowly, he draws in a deep, long inhale. He holds the breath in his lungs, savoring. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as you transcend several levels of the multiverse in the length of his breath. 

“Cautivante.” His soft lips brush affectionately over the flesh of your wrist as he speaks the word. Turning your palm over, he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and plush. Dazed and flushed, you’re certain that your soul has left your body until he speaks softly, grounding you to the spot. “Do you wish to see me again?” His voice is small, fearful, hopeful. 

You don’t even hesitate. “Yes.” 

His olive eyes sparkle at your eagerness, mouth widening into a delighted grin, eyes smiling at their corners. Your heart melts at the crook in his teeth as he looks down at your hands, bashful, then back up at you again. His teeth tug at his bottom lip thoughtfully as he grins at you. “Well, if that is what you wish, mi amada, then that is what you shall receive.” 

And in the blink of an eye, he’s gone, with only the slightest lingering aroma of Black Silk remaining in his place. 

. . . 

Driving home from work the following day, you’re almost embarrassed to admit that you’ve spent more time searching the woods on the side of the road than looking at the road itself. But when you spot a familiar dark haired man standing off the side of the highway a half mile ahead, all sense of shame leaves your mind. You flick on your blinker in an instant, pulling over without hesitation. 

The first thing you notice about Jack is how bone-deep exhausted he looks. His salt-and-pepper hair is entirely unkempt, his eyes framed by dark, shadowy circles. You’re almost sure he’s wearing the exact same black sweater and jeans from the day before. Still, when he sees you approach, his face brightens like a man who’s just had his best sleep in years. Your heart swells three sizes at the sight. 

He throws the door open and dips into your passenger seat like it’s the only thing he’s thought of in the past twenty-four hours. “Hello,” he greets you adorably, face split with a wide, cheeky grin. 

You couldn’t hold back your laughter if you’d tried. “Hello,” you greet him in return. Your skin seems to sing in his very presence, heart fluttering with an intoxicating mix of nerves and anticipation. “Out of coffee already?” you joke. 

He gives you a knowing smile, eyes twinkling. “Sure, you could say that.” 

Your teeth pin down your bottom lip, trying to bite back a grin. “Well, that sounds like a serious problem,” you try to keep a straight face, to keep the bit rolling, but glee sneaks into your tone anyway. “We’d better fix that.” 

Jack’s hand slips over yours on the gear shift, his thumb kneading the backs of your knuckles affectionately. With his olive green eyes on you, you feel like you could do anything, go anywhere. His presence is a drug, so much more addictive than caffeine could ever be. “Indeed, mi amada.” His grin widens ever so slightly, giving you the perfect glimpse of that endearing crook in his teeth. Your lips hum in response, eager to kiss that sacred spot, to adore every inch of him. To keep that grin plastered on his face forevermore. “Lead the way.”

Just some Screenshots ⑨ I love V ´ω`)

With a bright halo, shining beamily, As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil, Its sides are ting’d with a resplendent glow, Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail

How would V react to a chubby person with 0 self-esteem? Like, the person feels like he/she is annoying at all times and have extreme body complexes?

Yeah! No problem! Also that's a big mood hhh

Thicc thighs save lives and by god, you saved his

Have you seen this man? He's like a bag of remotes

He loves laying his head on your thighs.. he needs a nap and you're so comfy

Speaking of comfy, you are soft. Shadow thinks soft things are good. You are constantly used as her personal pillow

Overall he's very in love with you and when you confess to him that you feel annoying.. he's heart broken

You're his everything, how could you feel that way? Has he done anything to make you think of yourself like that?

This mans is gonna make sure you're loved, take that as you will

Sfw body worship and nsfw if you're into that

If anyone starts talking about how "They need to eat less." Or "That's so unflattering on them, they shouldn't wear that." They're getting caned

(all of those statements are false btw 💕 you're gorgeous 💕)

If you want to lose weight, for health or confidence reasons, he will support you, but if you don't, he's supportive too!

Like I said earlier, he really loves your size and curves, you're soft and comfy and he really loves it

@werewolfgirl1995

Imagine you and V became rather close (romantically) during the events of Devil May Cry 5, and, once he and Urizen merge together again to become Vergil once more, those feelings remain, and Vergil now has romantic feelings for you.

This blog loves and appreciates Vergil

love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

nav

implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

OMG, the accuracy. 😂😭😭😭