#[ listen. listen ok it's just. its in there. rattling around ]
Note
can i request for a miguel with an s/o who's having major baby fever for a daughter? you can make it smutty or fluffy!!
cw: breeding kink, light light choking, size kink
an: im sorry i literally went INSANE over this bc i know my man has a big big breeding kink!!! i made it realllly smut-heavy, hope thats ok with you! <3
wc: 1.2k
“Daddy! Mommy!” Gabriella exclaimed, her face lighting with pure joy. She quickly sprints to Miguel, backpack swinging wildly. Without a moment’s hesitation, Miguel drops to his knee next to you and eagerly awaits his daughter’s embrace.
With arms outstretched, Miguel effortlessly catches Gabriella in mid-air and holds her tightly against his chest. A warm smile spreads across your face at the heartwarming scene, your husband’s large hands enfolded around your daughter.
As Gabriella buries her face into Miguel’s strong shoulder and he grins. “missed you, mija. How was your day at school?”
Gabriella pulls away and turns to hold your hand before shyly, begins to rattle on about her day; all the new friends she made, her soccer games at recess, and a particularly impressive drawing she made with water color. “Thats amazing, honey,” you exclaim, and Miguel nods in agreement.
As you walk back to the car, you feel a strong surge of love in your chest as you watch the way Miguel interacts with Gabi so affectionately. The way he listens attentively to every word she says, and how she runs into his arms with a goofy grin spread on her lips. It was attractive to say the least, and it got you thinking…
══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══
“Miggy, I want another one.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and curiosity dancing across his face. He sets down his book to turn his attention to you fully. It was late at night, and the two of you were cuddling together on the couch after Gabriella was put to sleep.
“another baby, huh?”
“yeah, a cute baby girl. Just.. the way you handle Gabi is so…” Your voice trails off, unable to find the right words. he wraps his strong arm around you, smiling with playful satisfaction at your response and you, blushing shyly, bury your face into his chest.
“Please, Miggy,”
You whisper, and suddenly you feel his rough touch under your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet your eyes with his hazel ones, dim with a new desire.
“of course, nena. you want me to give you another baby girl? huh?”
you nod softly, shivering when you feel his other hand snake up your thigh, stopping on your inner thigh and gently messaging the flesh with his thumb.
“let me help you then,” he murmurs softly, drawing close to you, his lips meeting yours in a tender touch. With a gentle glide, his calloused hand caresses your chin, cradling your cheek, as he pulls you closer. As your lips meet his, you reciprocate without any hesitation, indulging in an affectionate, delicate kiss.
this tenderness didn’t last long though, the gentleness quickly transforming feverish and greedy, moans vibrating from both your chests and your bodies suddenly burning. When you both pull away, you feel his fingers slip under the straps of your tanktop and slide them off your shoulders. “Get this off,” he demands breathlessly, and you comply , stripping for him hastily.
you breathe, splayed out in front of your lover, face flushed as miguel sits up in between your legs with his intense gaze burning your skin as they trace your figure.
“you’re beautiful,” he breathes, and you whimper at his words, clit throbbing at the thought of being bred full and bearing another daughter to the man you love.
Miguel is quick to follow suit, pulling his tight shirt over his head to reveal the tan skin and solid muscle underneath. You bite your lip, eyes lidded as you watch him finish stripping. Miguel hastily takes off his sweatpants and boxers and lets his hard, leaking cock spring free from its confines.
He presses his hand against the plush of your inner thigh and spreads your legs, using his other hand to pump his cock with languid strokes.
You mewl feeling him drag the tip of his fat cock in between your folds, mushing it and teasing it against your clit sending pleasure coursing througch your body and making you throw your head back with a whimper.
he leans down and kisses you slowly, biting down on your lip gently. “feels good?” he asks breathlessly, and you nod, moaning at the feeling of his angry red tip against your swollen clit.
feverishly, he runs his length over your slick folds, grunting as you rocked your hips to meet his touch. After a few intense minutes, with desperate teasing and soft moans slipping from your glossy lips, you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm building rapidly. suddenly, he pulls away, making you to whimper at the sudden loss of friction. But before you can protest, he silences you with a brief kiss.
“‘M gonna put it in, okay?” he murmurs hotly, lining up the tip of his cock against your hole before gently pressing the aching tip inside.
Your mouth hangs into an ‘o’ shape, eyes pinched shut as he slowly sinks his cock into your core. You squirm and whimper as you tread the line between pain and pleasure, walls fluttering as his hips press against the back of your thighs. the feeling of being filled fully by miguel sends you into a daze everytime, and he’s so deep inside you can almost feel him in your throat
“g-god, you’re so big,” you whimper, face flushed as your body adjusts to his huge size. Miguel sucks in air between his gritted teeth sharply as your tight walls clamp down on him, engulfing him in your warmth and sucking him in. While he gives you a second to adjust, he slides his hands under the backs of your thighs and pushes your knees to your chest for a less extreme breeding press.
“gonna fuck my cum into you hermosa and knock you up with another baby,” He growls breathlessly, “You’d like that, yeah?” You eagerly nod your head in agreement, tummy flipping with butterflies at his dirty talk before he teasingly pulls out his length almost completely, only to thrust it entirely back in with a force that makes an unintentional moan escape you lips, and your eyes roll back.
His thrusts eventually build a strong rhythm, his hips slamming into you so heavy and mean, hitting the spots inside you that made you see stars. The only sound echoing in the small room was your loud moans mixed with his breathy grunts, along with the loud squelching sound of your slick as his cock drags in and out of your sloppy cunt. “god baby, you’re fucking me so, so good,” you moan, voice shaky, and he slides his hand up your body to rest a hand around your throat. “Yeah? you like it when im rough with you?” he chuckles dryly.
You suck in a sharp breath as he releases your throat and pulls your knees even closer to your chest in a full mating press, letting them rest over his shoulders as if he’s trying to get his cock inside you impossibly deeper. you cry out and desperately claw at the couch, feeling helpless as the new position sends electrifying shocks coursing through your body. pleasure cascades over you and overwhelms your senses, causing your legs to tremble uncontrollably.
Miguel loved seeing you like this, mind gone and pussy stretching to take cock that was too big for you to handle. God, you looked irresistible, fucked dumb under his touch.
“‘M gonna cum Mig, please, please, cum inside me, please!” you beg, tears beginning to well in your eyes. miguel notices and groans at the sight, his thrusts beginning to quicken even more. “shh, baby, you don’t wanna wake up Gabi, do you?” he coos breathlessly, causing a flutter in your chest, and you suppress a gasp. Moving closer, he gently places his forehead against yours, igniting an intense warmth that engulfs both of you. “dont worry nena, I’m gonna fuck my cum right into your pretty little pussy and give you that daughter you wanted m’kay? don’t cry,” he whispers, and it only takes a few more hard thrusts before the coil in your stomach finally snaps.
your eyes squeeze shut and you let out open-mouthed silent moans, your voice lost to the amount of pleasure you’re in as you gush around him. Miguel follows suit soon after, his heavy groans and growls filling the room as he presses his pelvis against your ass and breeds your cunt full of his hot, sticky cum.
Miguel doesn’t bother to pull out yet, the room falling into an abrupt silence, with only the sound of heavy, labored breathing breaking the stillness.
“Hope you’re ready, because I’m not done with you yet.”
#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara smut#miguel x reader#smut#miguel ohara#miguel smut#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x oc#miguel x y/n#miguel o hara#<3#miguel o hara x reader#2099<3
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ftm!dottore x male!reader
cw; nsft, breeding, cervix mentions, spanking, crying, squirting, maybe a lil ooc
imagine breeding ftm dottore
imagine him ordering you to do so. bossing you around and instructing you on what to do.
imagine him undressing you, then himself clinically as if it's nothing but a medical procedure.
imagine finally snapping on him when he gets too annoying. you push his face into the pillow and raise his ass to the air. he whines and half heartedly struggles to regain control but your hand comes harsh against his ass and he moans.
you hold him down with one hand and align yourself with his tight cunt with the other. you slide in with one rough thrust that has him moaning into the pillow again.
he loves the way your cock stretches his pussy, the slight burn as you fill him. he loves the way that against scientific reason your cock bulges in his stomach. he loves when you manhandle him with your larger more physically imposing body.
you suspect he might have been wanting this outcome all along but you can't find it in yourself to get mad at him. you let go of his wrists as you allow your body weight to hold him down. your hand runs through his light blue locks and tugs.
"listen to yourself, slut. you just wanted to get your cunt stuffed, didn't you?" and he moans at your provocation confirming your words as his pussy clenches around your length. you give another slap to his pillowy ass before you begin a jackhammer pace.
dottore moans underneath you and grabs at the sheets for stability as you pound into him. the bed rattles and the headboard hits the wall with every thrust you slam into him. the doctor's pussy is drooling around your thick cock lending to the sound of your skin slapping together.
another slap on his ass followed by pulling his face to look at you. you kiss him roughly and he eagerly returns it, trying fruitlessly to fight your tongue for control. he gives up so easily as you make him moan again.
when his pussy finally squirts, drenching the sheets in his cum, you flip him over onto his back. you press his body into a mating press, his thighs against his stomach and knees hooked over your legs. he whines at the new position he's in.
"do you want to be bred?" you ask him, your mouth inches from his.
"yes, I'd like to-" before he continue speaking you slam into him even deeper than before.
"what was that?" you ask as you pump your cock deep into his cunt.
"pl-plea-" he practically screamed as your cock kissed his cervix. he looked down to see the bulge of your cock head as it hit his deepest parts with every slap of skin.
"I can't understand what you're saying doc" you tease him as he moans, one of your hands sliding between his legs to rub at his cute clit.
"pleashe- pleashe- ah-ah fuuuuu-fuck me. br-breed m-aah- cu-huhuhm inshide-" his words were broken with each thrust before through eyes teary with overstimulation he screamed out please.
"ok, doctor. I'll get you pregnant." you finally bend down and kiss him again before you continue your brutal pace.
his pussy spasms and he cums so hard he squirts twice more before you finally pump his womb full of cum. its not enough though. you exchange a look with him and you can see in his red eyes he wants more. with a short rest you begin slamming into him again.
#dottore x reader#dom male reader#sub genshin#top male reader#genshin x reader#dottore x male reader#genshin x male reader
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How Could this not Fit?!
Y/N's POV of events: Laundry Day
Bucky's spin-off fic: Loads of Fun (different Y/N character) - in progress
Pairing: Loki x female reader - Loki POV
Summary: You (Loki) and Y/N are living together in the Avengers Tower and she has asked you to help her with the laundry. You agree and when she sees you use your magic to put away the clothing, she makes a bet with you which you simply can't resist. After a brief, albeit intense battle with the fitted sheet, you realize she has cheated to win the wager and you absolutely cannot allow that.
Warnings: ... um nothing really, alluding to sex but not much other than Loki having a literal fight with a fitted sheet
A/N: this is the companion piece to Laundry Day, you can read either one first. They just tell two different point of views for the same event... enjoy 💚
You put the basket of clean laundry down on the floor at the foot of the bed. "There, laundry is all done," you say to Y/N triumphantly.
She laughs as she dumps the laundry basket she is holding onto the mattress. "Not quite, my prince," she says and your smile fades as hers gets wider. "You have to put everything away-"
You wave one hand towards the clothing and the other towards the tall dresser and closet. A green glow extends from your fingers and in an instant, everything is folded and back in the correct spot.
"Without your magic," she finishes her sentence just as the last drawer closes. She crosses her arms and shakes her head.
"What?" you ask with a laugh. You step around the laundry basket on the ground and put your arms around her waist.
"That's cheating," she replies, lightly smacking your chest.
"No its not," you counter, pulling her closer to you. "I was just saving time so we can do other, more interesting things."
"No," she laughs. "You used your magic because you have no idea how to put the laundry away. Just like you didn't know how to wash the laundry or clean the bathroom or vacuum-" she starts to rattle off all the things you rely on magic for.
You put your hand on your cheek and lean down to kiss her. Your other hand rests on her back, keeping her close to you. She grips the back of your shirt but she only remains silent until you break the kiss.
"Or cook or take out the garbage or-" she continues where she left off.
"Ok," you put your hand over her mouth and she stops. "I admit, I use my magic to help me with things I don't know how to do. I appreciate you teaching me these things but I still insist magic is not cheating. If you knew how complex some of my spells are you would know they take more effort than simply doing the task," you try to convince her. She rolls her eyes at you, your hand still over her mouth and your arm around her.
You let out a sudden laugh when Y/N licks the palm of your hand and you pull it away. "Did you really just do that?" you ask her in surprise.
She smiles and nods, "You never complained when I licked you in other places."
"Well I much prefer those other places to my hand," you tell her. Before she can respond, you pick her up and toss her gently onto the mattress. On her back, she tries to move towards the headboard and you grab her by her ankles, pulling her back towards you.
"Wait," she giggles, placing her hand on your chest as you climb on top of her. You look down at her questioningly. "The bed doesn't have sheets," she says and you look at the mattress.
You look at the laundry basket and wave your hand towards the sheets but she stops you. "No magic," she says from under you. You look back at her. "I'll make a bet with you," she offers and you smirk.
"I'm listening," you say, feeling intrigued.
Well, this all seems simple enough, you think as you stuff the last pillow back in its case. You toss all four of them onto your dresser so you have space to work on the bed. How hard could this possibly be, you question as you find the fitted sheet. You are confident you will win this bet as easily as you had won the last four Y/N had proposed.
You grab one corner of the fitted sheet, knowing that needs to go on first, and tuck the top right corner in then bottom right corner. Nearly there, you think to yourself. I don't understand why she complains about doing- your thought is cut short.
Much to your surprise, the sheet is too short to make it to the bottom left corner, it goes tight before you even get close. You pull a bit harder, hoping it will stretch but the first two corners suddenly spring free.
You groan and begin again, this time with the bottom left corner. You make sure it is tucked in but not too much in case that was your issue. You carefully move to the right side of the bed but you pause your movements when you realize can't make it to the opposite corner.
You let go of the sheet and it springs back together into a pile in the middle of the bed. "Who designed this ridiculous type of bedding?" you ask aloud as you run your fingers through your hair in frustration.
You stare at the pile for a moment but you are determined to win. Shaking your head, you pick up the sheet again but you have lost the corner. "Do not test me," you mumble to the sheet as you feel along the edge until you find a corner but now you are unsure if it is the top or a side.
You get it mostly laid flat and begin to work on the right side but this time it is too long from corner to corner. "Gods!" you exclaim, "I must have this wretched thing on sideways now."
You turn it the other way, at least you think you do but it appears to be fighting back as if it doesn't want you to win the bet either. There must be a way to do this, you think growing impatient. Y/N had only given you half an hour to compete this task and you were quickly running out of time. You do not like losing bets, especially one with Y/N. You wanted to claim your prize.
You begin again, starting at the top left corner, tucking it under the mattress carefully. You walk to the foot of the left side and get the corner into position. You move to the right corner slowly.
"How could this not fit?!" you yell as the sheet pulls free from your hand and snaps back so fast it pulls the side you already fixed completely out from around the mattress.
You rip the sheet off the bed and roll into angrily into a ball before throwing it back on the mattress.
You cross your arms and look down at the offending sheet. After a moment you say, "I will not be defeated by a piece of fabric. I am a God."
You grab one end of the sheet, determined to make one last attempt to get it into the bed and notice a small tag on the inside. Your eyebrow raises as you read it. 'Top Right Corner' is printed in small black text. "That would have been helpful at the beginning," you grumble out loud. You shake your head and bring that corner to its rightful place but you pause when you notice a second tag next to it.
"Full," you say when you see the size listed above the washing directions. You lower the sheet confused, "We don't have a full... we have a queen bed."
How could Y/N have given you the wrong size sheets? You can't imagine she washed the wrong ones by accident, you wouldn't have even owned this size. She must have planned this in advance, to ensure she would win the bet. You throw the sheet onto the bed and leave your room.
You walk quickly down the hall, determined to find out if your precious Y/N truly had cheated or if it was some sort of mistake. It seemed unlikely that she gave you the wrong sheets by accident and a part of you was hoping it was on purpose. If she cheated, she owed you your prize as well as a punishment, you think with a smirk. You very much enjoy finding new ways to punish her and she clearly enjoys it as well.
"Y/N," you say in a serious tone when you enter the kitchen. She looks at you nervously and your suspensions are confirmed as she backs away slightly. "You cheated," you state, still walking towards her. You ignore Stark and the others, Y/N is your sole focus.
"No, I was just..." she tries to explain. Her words die as you keep your eyes locked with hers.
"You... cheated," you say slowly, backing her into the counter by the sink.
"I mean, only a little," she smiles up at you and you fight to hold back a smile of your own. "And I only did it to make sure you didn't use your magic," she quickly adds.
"Um, I think we should go... literally anywhere else," you hear the captain say as you grip her waist with both hands. You press your body to hers, keeping her caught between yourself and the counter.
"Don't worry, we're leaving," you reply to him, keeping your eyes on her as you let a smirk cross your lips. She bites her lip and you pick her up, throwing her over your shoulder with ease. She gasps and you wonder what other sounds you can pull from her tonight. You wrap one arm around the back of her legs to keep her from slipping off as you turn to leave the kitchen.
You pause as you pass the counter and pick up her water bottle. "You'll need to keep hydrated, it's going to be a very long night, love," you assure her as you head towards your room.
I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚
@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @foxherder @tonystank8 @alexakeyloveloki
#hiddlestoners#loki#tom hiddleston characters#loki laufeyson#twhiddleston#hiddlesarmy#loki x reader#loki odinson#hiddlesverse#tom hiddleston#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki x ofc#loki x oc#loki x original female character#loki imagine#loki fanfic#loki fandom#loki of asgard#loki pov#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson x you#loki laufesyon x reader#loki layfeyson imagine#loki friggason#loki au#loki avengers#loki marvel#loki mcu#just trying to do my laundry
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𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | max verstappen x fem!reader
requests
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Max was seen holding hands with a model in an airport. He was seen doing this while his girlfriend of five years was at home waiting for him to return.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | cheating, toxic relationships, manipulation, stupid second chances, bad ending, just bad.
Based on
In many peoples eyes, there’s nothing worse that could happen in a relationship than being cheated on. Whether it be with sex, words, or just with their emotions. Max Verstappen and his girlfriend of nearly six years were going through that rough patch.
On a chilly November afternoon in Monaco, she laid on their couch, patiently waiting for Max to return. She was scrolling on her phone, clueless as to what was happening. There was music playing in the apartment. One of her favorite things to do was to read about herself or rumors about her relationship. When she stumbled upon a post, she assumed that it would be some more fake stuff that would make her laugh. Not this time though.
The person who posted the images of Max holding hands with another woman was someone who had posted lots of fake information before. This time, it wasn’t fake.
f1wagupdates MAX VERSTAPPEN spotted with model at airport
Her heart dropped at the post, unsure of what to do with herself. She knew Max would have to be getting home soon. She hated that they were hugging, holding hands, doing the things she did with him too.
The doorknob to their apartment rattled and Max walked in with a shout, announcing his return. She stood up, walking over to him.
“Hey, you ok?” Max asked her sweetly as he went to hug her. She stepped away and didn’t let him hug her. His brows furrowed.
“Who was that at the airport?” She got straight to the point. Max could see how her eyes were redder than normal.
“What?”
“I saw the pictures, Max.” She got out her phone and showed him the pictures. His face went white. He didn’t know what to do, he just stood there with wide eyes. “You aren’t even gonna say anything?” Her voice broke between words as she tried not to cry.
“Its not what it looks like.” Max tried to defend himself. Her sadness turned to rage from the betrayal.
“Why were you holding her hand?” She raised her voice slightly.
“Do you think i would cheat on you? Is that the way we stand?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Shes just a friend.” That was the worst thing he could’ve said.
“Youve told me that so many times before.” She sighed in disappointment. “Were you lying all the time?” Her hand hit his chest angrily. He touched her wrist.
“It wasn’t like that. You know I only love you.” Max whispered, trying to calm her down. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I thought the world of you, Max. I thought nothing could go wrong.” Her voice was shaking and she could barely meet his eyes.
“Nothing will go wrong. We’re meant for each other. Just listen to me.” Max begged softly. She wouldn’t listen though. He wasn’t too worried though. He knew he had her wrapped around his finger.
“I was wrong.” She whimpered softly.
“Baby, you know I only love you. I never felt anything for her.” Max kept trying to push that he only wanted her.
“But are you cheating on me?” She tried to ask again. Max knew she wouldn’t let it go until he answered.
“It was only once. It meant nothing.” A choked gasp came from her and she pulled away from his touch.
“When?”
“…last year.” That was a lie too. It had been more than once and it only started last year. “It was when we were going through that really bad spot.” Max whispered to her.
“But never again?”
“Not ever. I only love you.” He reached for her and cupped her face in his hands. She nodded.
“Ok..” She whispered and moved into his touch. He tugged her into his arms and as she was crying into his shirt, he was smiling.
#Spotify#max verstappen#max verstappen angst#angst#formula1#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#max verstappen imagine#linger the cranberries
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Yandere Shalnark- Darling
TW: Yandere themes, reader was obtained disgustingly, kidnapping, violence, kinda short, probably only like 1k words, drugging, manipulation, debt, kinda loan-sharks
(fic under cut)
"Bye" you got off of the phone with your landlord, "Shit" you sit on the curb outside of the apartment complex and hide your face in your hands. You sat and listened to the rain for what felt like the rest of your life
The rain was so loud, almost loud enough to block out a pair of quiet footsteps. It was far too late, the second you truly noticed the door hadnt opened was the same second the rag was placed over your face, The night sky blared in your eyes as it blurred and contorted the more you breathed in the sickeningly sweet chemical
You didnt expect to wake up, and certainly not in a dark room which seemed to inhabit just you and likely whatever creepy crawlies were sitting in the corners of these god forsaken walls. You cursed everything, you prayed that your friends and family knew you loved them and every other thing that came to mind
When instead of death, you were met with two men standing infront of you "ill be taking her now, feitan, thank you" you assume the other man just nodded because you were picked up, the man carried you for quite some time before you were dropped, the blindfold stopped you from seeing but you could hear a key jingling before you were picked up once more by the man, who dropped you on a concrete floor "im going to untie you now,ok" you dont have time to answer before the rope around your limbs was sliced quicker than you ask who he was
By the time you stood up and took off the blindfold he was on the other side of the room, sitting on a storage box in the large warehouse "sorry, i cant take you back to my place right now" You quickly back away from him, the door not unlocking as you rattle the door knob "sorry, your gonna need a key for that" The blonde man held up a key before placing it back in his pocket in one liquid motion
"Who are you?" The man seems to have a look of fake betrayal as he gasps "you really dont remember!..You were at a bank we robbed" Your eyes widen as the man "Me and the troupe that is, im Shalnark" your lungs seem to completely give up on you, it would seem so since they were unable to take a breath
"Are you going to hyperventilate?" Shalnark pulls out a small device with wings on the side "Id love to get a video" he gives a sweet smile and points the camera at you while you struggle to breathe on the cold concrete floor
"Whats going on?" A small boy comes out of the dark "Nothing, Kalluto" The boy takes one small glance at your struggling form and flicks his fan at you, A slew of air coming into your lungs as he does, You watch him leave just as quickly as he had entered the strangely tense room
"Thank you?..." you said as he quietly returned to his position elsewhere "Youll get used to it, afterall, youve got a lifetime!" he smiles and seems to be surprised when you perk up "What do you mean?!" His face returns to a near constant smile as he just looks at you like a child throwing a tantrum over something silly "I kidnapped you, i own you now..Youll never leave me" he says it as if its the most childish thing possible
"How did you find me" Shalnark laughs and gives you a glare "I didnt, your debt found me" he gets off of the box and approaches your shaking form, giggling when you tremble as his arm snakes around your shoulder "Your trembling darling! Im gonna bring you out to my..friends" his hand rests on your neck, threatening to squeeze but not quite doing so "If you act up, there will be consequences" his face gets much darker and disturbing than before, but he goes back to just being friendly as his arm returns around your shoulder as he practically carries you into another room "Hello!" he shouts out to the multiple men and women siting around the building "This is Y/N" he says as he drops you on an old couch next to the most muscular man you had ever seen "Nice to meet you" He holds his hand out and gives you a grin that showed his sharp teeth "Dont scare her uvo!" Uvogin just smiles "Just being polite, you dont mind? Right doll?" He turns to look at you once more, shalnark also sends you a look but his is a piercing glare "Well..uhm.." you shrug and the two both seemed to be annoyed at the fakely nonchalant action
Shalnark approaches you and grabs your wrist in almost an unbelievably tight grip, Another man in a black cowl seemed to take notice and smile as shalnark inches ever closer to breaking your wrist, you manage to pull your wrist away and inch away from shalnark. "darling, we'll talk about that later" he whispers in your ear while bending down to your height as you hug your knees and look around the room once more, eventually just keeping your head down
The people in the room spoke, they were so caught up they didnt seem to notice when you slinked away to explore, finding an exit quite quickly as you walk out into the surronding pavement to go down the street. You pause when you read the sign...The nearest town was 20 miles away and you were pretty sure there was just about no one around
You came back to the building and entered once more, noticing commotion in another room. You enter and shalnark practically tackles you "You left, pick your next words very wisely" his smile still remained as he stood above your form "im sorry" the smile fades and he gets off of you "You will be" he practically drags you until your behind closed doors
He pins you down on the ground, kneeling so he was in a position with your arm at his mercy "If i break your arm..you wont be able to leave for a couple weeks.." he debates his choice "if i break a leg..i could keep you here forever" he bites his lip, seeming to think about his desicion
You scream when your arm is pulled, the bone popping and dislocating "I havent even broken it yet!" he laughs as tears stream down your face and onto the floor. He pulls harder and laughs once more when your scream gets louder "Its not that bad! Maybe ill do your leg too~" he coos in your ear as he pulls until he hears a clean snap
He gets up and stretches "That really got me worked up...maybe i can help feitan out!" he smiles and waves goodbye as he goes off to find feitan. Your left with a disgustingly intense pain in your arm, You get on the nearby bed which you assumed was his and clutched your arm
Hours pass, He returns and is suprised to see you still laying down crying "I guess i overestimated you...You are just a civilian after all" he sits down next to you and hands you a bottle of pain relief pills and a gatorade "I stole them from some store nearby" he says it as if its normal as he watches you take the pills "They might make you tired" he looks at you, watching you yawn "Feel free to go to bed, i have to be out tonight" theres a carelessness in his voice as he walks out
You give into sleep, curling up under the thin blankets as the pain dies down
You wake up to shalnark leaning over you, "Your finally awake!" he smiles as the pain from your arm registers. He sits down on the bed next to you and pokes your arm "I went out and stole stuff to make this more...comfortable for you" you nod and look at the bag on the floor and a fuzzy blanket that sat next to it "I really shouldnt give them to you..but im choosing to be nice even after your little escape attempt yesterday" you give him a irritated look "it was not an escape attempt" he gives you a sarcastic glance "Sure it wasnt" he searches through the shopping bag on the floor for a moment
"i dont eat breakfast, but Fei said most people do" he puts a yogurt on the bed and smiles as you pick it up. Your about to eat it but look at him and he seems confused before you speak "did you remember to buy a spoon?" it registers "Nope!, another member might have one though" he walks out before you can ask which
Your forced to get out of bed, trying to not put any pressure on your already aching arm as you try to remember the name of the one who you met yesterday. You found him talking to who you assumed was Feitan with your yogurt in one hand as the other laid strangely against your side "Do either of you know where i can find a spoon" You yawn and stare at them as they point to the bar behind you
You approach the bar and see a couple plastic spoons, you picked one up and began eating as the two men watched you retreat back to the room you had came from and sit back down on the bed. You looked at the bag from this morning, but dont dare look inside as you lay your head down
Sleep envelopes you as you quietly shift, you placed the fluffy blanket over you along with the few thin ones that were on the bed. You would sleep until shalnark appeared again...
#xreader#yandere male#yandere phantom troupe#yandere shalnark#yandere HxH#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere hunter x reader#Yandere#MxF#kidnapping#no smut#yandere scenarios#yan!#yandere blog#yandere fic#CandiesActualFics
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Hi again, so the second chapter! I hope y'all like this fluff. I gave my best on this chapter, however this is my first fic and english is not my first language, so apologies if anything sounds confusing, and please let me know in the comments. Again, any spanish spoken will be translated in the end, so don't worry ;)
Title: One And The Opposite
Rating: Teens and Up (swearing, mentions of sex)
Summary: After filling the shoes of his alternate self in a parallel universe, Miguel O'Hara swiftly discovers that embodying a different version of himself is far more challenging than he initially anticipated. As he juggles with the complexities of family dynamics, with a wife and daughter who both expect him to be the man they remember, he tries to stay afloat, grappling with the pros and cons of navigating two lives simultaneously.
OR
A domestic Miguel trying his best.
Chapter 2: Sweet reunion
"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!" he hears a voice shout from down the hallway, as the door slams shut, followed by the loud noise of keys rattling and plastic bags crinkling.
Miguel turns around to look at her for the first time, and it's nothing like he thought it would be, to say the least. He imagines it’s like if he were living life immersed in tiger illustrations, and then got to see the real thing for the very first time. It feels like he’s standing in the presence of a real tiger, with its raw power, the rhythmic pulse of its fur, and the untamed wilderness echoing in its eyes. His breath catches as he steps back to really look at her in awe.
Moving through the kitchen in a busy sway, she goes about putting the groceries away, all the while speaking almost too fast to understand like every Spanish speaker ever. It’s as if she hasn't even spotted him there yet — so comfortable with his presence.
"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a... estas bien?" She asks, getting on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss.
As much as he tries not to, Miguel is startled by the sudden contact, and it must show on his face because she notices too.
"Que te pasa, mi amor?" She asks, a look of confusion in her face that makes her look even more beautiful.
"I uh... I... Just got robbed." He blurts out.
Even after a day of practicing his Spanish accent, English still instinctively surfaces as his immediate response — it's become much more natural than his native language at this point. The perplexity in her eyes immediately turns into worry as she puts a hand on his face and examines him up and down.
"Are you ok? Did they hurt you!?" She thankfully also speaks English, although with a slight accent that Miguel can’t quite figure out where it’s from.
"No, no, yo estoy bien. I'm fine just... A little shaken. He had a gun." He answers, gently holding her hand back.
She stares at him, a twinge of shock coloring her features, then looks down at his hand. He gets worried for a second that even though his talons are concealed, something else might be giving him away. Something he doesn’t know about. He can't help the way his heart must be beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump out of his chest.
"Well, you're safe now, okay? Don't worry about it too much." The way she casually utters it confirms for him that this sort of thing happens frequently here. She only smiles sympathetically at him, not even asking what they took — if anything.
He sighs in relief as she says that, and smiles back, taking the chance to get a good look at her face.
Brown eyes like his, a few moles here and there. Worry lines between her brows that paint a picture of a woman who hasn't had everything handed to her, or the easiest life. He can't help but think he chose well.
"Listen, I can go pick up Briella, you stay here and I'll-" she says, swiftly turning around to grab her keys.
"No, no, it's okay, I can do it. It's fine." He quickly insists, knowing he has to use every opportunity to get to know his family, and his alternate version better.
"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor." She warns, placing another kiss on his lips.
*
He gets there early, watching from his car as some parents start making their way towards the entrance. While he contemplates waiting inside the front office — an idea that might be a bit excessive, though it would allow him to catch an earlier glimpse of Gabriella — staying in the car seems neglectful at best. So he settles on waiting near the front of the school until the bell rings.
When it finally does, a crowd of kids emerges from the building, and with them a cacophony of screams and voices as he nervously shifts his weight around, willing himself to stay calm while trying to spot his daughter in the crowd.
“¿Apá?” She asks, right next to him . Miguel looks down at her, startled.
He must have been so distracted looking through hundreds of faces, that he didn’t even notice her coming up to him. It doesn’t help that she’s tiny, barely reaching past his hips, and the school uniform makes her blend right in with the navy blue crowd.
“Oh hi there! You scared me!” He tells her with a laugh, trying to play it off.
Gabriella blinks at him. “You didn’t wait in the car this time.”
Uh oh. Is that bad? Maybe she was embarrassed of leaving with her father, maybe the kids would make fun of her for it now. He quickly scans the surroundings, seeing not that many kids leaving with their parents.
“Uh… Right. Well, I wanted to walk with you, if that’s ok…” He explains, fighting the urge to lean down so she doesn’t feel as small to him.
Thankfully she just shrugs, and turns to leave after he offers to carry her backpack for her. They start walking in silence, with Miguel more afraid of being found out than he was earlier, with her mother.
It’s silly, really: She’s a child, barely nine years old. However, his mind keeps racing trying to figure out what to say, what to ask that’s not going to give him away immediately, while at the same time reassuring himself that it’s okay, that she doesn’t know yet.
“So… How was school?” He asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.
“It was alright.” She answers dryly, staring at the floor as she walks.
“Soo was it alright as in boring, or…?” He risks the question, wanting to know more about her day.
She seems pensive for a moment, considering him. “It’s just that the boys keep making fun of me and Isa again. Even Sam joined in, and he doesn't even play soccer!” She frowns, continuing. “They keep saying we’re never gonna play like Messi Jr because we’re girls.”
He can feel his fists closing into tight balls when she says that. He knows first hand just how insufferable boys her age could get, especially dealing with Kron and all the hell he’d put him through at school, but he also knows that when it comes to girls they act ten times worse.
So even though he has no idea who ‘Messi Jr’ is, he figures instead of speaking out of anger and cursing the hell out of these boys, he should at least try and help her with her insecurities instead.
“Why are you worried about being exactly like Messi Jr when you can be so much better than him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.
She keeps silent for a moment, seeming hesitant. “Really? You think so?”
“Of course I do! You’re great!” He answers honestly.
Miguel remembers watching her play a little fútbol prior to coming here. He had been surprised to find out how good she played for her age before…
Suddenly, he’s almost overwhelmed by the thought of what would have happened to her had he not been here. He has a vision of this lovely little girl he just met being thrusted into a childhood filled with grief.
No paternal figure there for her. A perpetual sadness that got particularly worse on every father’s day, an endless list of things he would never get to teach her. A constant wondering of what it could have been, what would have been like to have him there.
He can’t help but feel glad that he could take his place. That he could be there for her in this way and fill this void. It’s an impossible responsibility, yet one he’s happy to take nonetheless.
Shaking his thoughts away, he continues. “And besides, it’s like you said, right? What does Sam know about soccer, he doesn’t even play! Also, there are some great women players around the world too.” He smiles with a sudden enjoyment, excited to play this role the best way he knew how to.
Gabriella looks like she notices his thrilled state, eyeing him sideways with a curious look. “I know, I know. It’s just that it annoys me, you know?” she says, back to looking pensive.
“Yeah, that’s… True. And the more it annoys you, the more they do it…” He admits, more to himself than her.
Miguel didn’t want to be a walking cliché. He didn’t have much advice to give her, besides things he really wanted to say but couldn’t. Like: She’s a lovely little girl, that he’s glad to be here for her and she’s actually so much more than he ever imagined, that she could be anything she put her mind to, and already he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn’t do if she asked him to. No, that would be too much in too little time. Instead, he had to go with what was appropriate.
“You know, you’re gonna find people like that everywhere you go. I have people I don’t like at work, too. The thing is how you deal with them. But don't worry, you’ll learn that with time. it’s not like there’s a recipe for it, you know?” He tells her.
She keeps quiet for a moment, listening to him. Was that also too much?
But then she just nods in understanding as he opens the door of the car for her to get in.
*
“Not again, Gabriella. Again!?”
“¿Qué?” Gabriella asks, rubbing her feet on a rug by the entrance of the apartment when the both of them come in.
“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” María raises her voice, pointing to her daughter's legs.
“But mooom! It was just a quick cascarita! And I’m not even that dirty!” Gabriella insists, gesturing towards her white socks, which funny enough are covered in green and brown spots, especially by the knees.
“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda, take it off and give it here.” She orders after letting out a breath.
“Sí mamá.” Says Briella, pouting and dragging her feet to her room, looking annoyed.
Miguel also drags his feet by the threshold, setting his keys on a hook next to the door. He takes off his boots, eyeing the three pairs of slippers nearby. Hesitantly, he puts one of them on, the irony in the mundane gesture settling heavy in his chest, the weight of deception tugging annoyingly at his conscience.
Since he’s already taken a quick look around the place before she arrived from work, he gets to inspect things a little closer this time around.
The entryway is adorned with sleek porcelain tiles that extend seamlessly into the living space. A smart home system panel mounted on the wall offers control over lighting, temperature, and security, right next to the hook where he hung his keys. To the side, there’s a wall-mounted shelf holding a curated display of art and what looks to be some personal mementos.
A water bill sits on top of it, the sight striking an odd chord — in a time where holographic displays and digital transactions were the norm, a paper bill practically seems like a relic from another time — but also allowing him to find out her full name, which he immediately commits to memory.
“I think she thinks the socks make her look more like a professional player.” María tells him a while later, while slicing some meat by the sink. “We should buy her a pair of those so she stops ruining her uniform.”
He nods in agreement, putting a plate down as he lets the reality sink in, that this is really happening. This is his life now.
He’s married, he has a beautiful wife, and he’s also father to a beautiful little girl. And he couldn't be happier. Couldn’t have asked for anything else in life.
It’s like he just woke up from a bad dream, straight into the life he’s always wanted to live.
Like he’s exactly where he belongs.
So he helps María with the food. Luckily, he must be incompetent at the kitchen in every universe, because her instructions are extremely detailed, as they prepare carne a la tampiqueña for three.
María yells for Gabriella to come, and they all eat in silence after joining hands around the table for a quick, silent prayer.
*
Later, María is washing the socks while he cleans the table, and Maná plays in the background. She grooves with the rhythm, singing and humming now and then, completely oblivious to it all.
Objectively, he knows that he’s hiding a lot from her, but his heart can’t help but ache a little at how she’s not intimidated at all by his presence, in fact, she’s used to it. For once, he doesn’t feel like a freak or a monster the way he inadvertently does among the other spiders.
She spots him there, lost in thought as he finishes up, and says “I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx.”
“What?” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the weird phrase.
“Maná. The vocalist, I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx to help the A.I replicate his voice better. Can you believe that!?” She explains “That’s why I’m listening to their original songs, I heard it on the news today.”
He blinks slowly, trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be used to things like these. “That’s… Crazy, honestly.”
“Right? I mean, the fact that we aren’t able to tell the difference for most artists nowadays is already pretty insane to me, and now they’re reconstructing the larynx of a dead guy to make a robot replicate his voice better? Come on now!” She remarks, turning back to look at him.
“I know, it’s so wild to think about.” He says, taking the chance to look around the room.
Sleek countertops adorned in marble, bearing the scars of a few culinary adventures that her and his alternate self probably didn’t have the time to clean yet; Rectangular windows above the kitchen sink, lined with cheap plastic containers labeled “basil”, “rosemary” and a few other herbs, bringing a nice green contrast to the brushed metal accents; A smart fridge on the corner, adorned with Gabriella’s drawings held by magnets all throughout it. Some things never change.
He approaches the fridge, taking one of the drawings to inspect it closer. It’s a crudely drawn version of him… His alternate self, with exaggerated triangular shoulders and, most tellingly, what looks like a phone buzzing in his hand.
María seems to notice his curiosity, approaching to look at the drawing too.
“Listen I know, you must be still a little shaken from… Before,” She tells him carefully “Just… Try not to think too much about it, okay? You’re here, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
He puts the drawing back as she places a cold hand on his face again, gently willing him to meet her eyes.
“I know, I know. It’s just… I was afraid for a second, that’s all.” He says, sincere in his words but not the real meaning behind them.
“And that’s okay. I’m here.” She assures him, pulling him by the arm gently.
The low hum of the city outside is a distant lullaby as they settle into the living room.
She takes a bottle from on top of a cabinet, wordlessly pouring two cups. He takes a sip, letting the burning soothe his nerves.
"I didn’t think I'd make it back." He lies, gaze lingering on the symmetrical floor panels.
Her hand finds his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You did, and you're here now."
“Yeah… I am.” An inward glow softing his expression, the sensation of a smile blooming from deep within as he stares into her eyes.
As the night unfolds, the room is filled with shared glances and unspoken understanding. María lays her head on his shoulder, caressing him.
And he can’t help but think that this could work.
This could really work.
*
When they go to bed, after making sure Briella did her homework and wishing her goodnight of course, María takes off her bra in front of him, and slips on a loose nightgown.
He hates that for so many things that he had considered before coming here, this hadn’t even crossed his mind at all. Hesitantly, he pulls off his own clothes, not able to help how flushed red his face must be.
Thankfully, María doesn’t seem to notice this, as she’s busy settling into bed and pulling the sheets towards herself. He sits besides her underneath them, awkwardly stiff, and she pulls him into a sideways hug, humming quietly.
"You seem so different today." She observes, fingers lightly tracing circles on the sheets next to him.
He freezes, eyes widening but trying not to look at her.
"Yeah… It's been a long day.” He says, clearing his throat. “I'm just tired, that’s all. Besides, I gotta wake up early tomorrow. You know how it is, work.” He explains, thinking it’s a good enough excuse.
She turns to fully look at him, blinking in amusement. “It’s friday. Did you forget?”
He closes his eyes. Fuck.
“Yeah, yeah, right. I meant workout, you know? Gym? I just need some rest.” He corrects, pulling away from her a little and cursing himself inwardly for talking so much.
She seems to get the message, recoiling as well.
“You and your Gym. Should at least try eating those packed proteins just like everyone else.” She tells him, turning her back to him, reaching for the light switch on her side of the bed and then finally lying back down.
"Well, you know how I am," He says, turning off his side of the bed lamp as well but still remaining upright. She hums in agreement.
“Goodnight?” He asks, reluctantly.
“Goodnight.” She replies, sounding already half asleep.
*
"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!” = Fatty is that you? I’ve arrived!
(Keep in mind that ‘gordo’ is a wholesome way to call someone in spanish, and doesn’t mean she actually thinks he’s fat nor that she is body shaming Miguel).
"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a… estas bien?”
=
“... Your brother won’t stop calling me, you should see what he wants. Ah, and the weather forecast says the air will be unbreathable for a few hours, so remember that when you’re heading to… Are you ok?”
"Que te pasa, mi amor?” = “What’s up with you, my love?”
“Estoy bien” = “I’m fine”
"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor.” = “Okay, but be careful my love.”
“¿Apá?” = “Dad?”
“¿Qué?” = “What?”
“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” = “How many times have I told you to not play soccer with your uniform? Look at you! You’re covered in grass!”
Cascarita = an informal, purely friendly soccer match in Mexico. The equivalent for a ‘pelada’ in Brazilian Portuguese, although if you search for the term, make sure to include the word ‘futebol’ after it, as ‘pelada’ on its own simply means ‘naked’ haha
“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda [...]” = “Who are you calling ‘mooom’? Come on [...]”
“Sí mamá.” = “yes mom.”
Carne a la tampiqueña = a traditional mexican meat dish
Lyla, play Mi religión by Maná :) Also you can read it on ao3
#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#marvel#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#original character#my fics#shameless self rec#my fic#fic rec
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Ghost of the Garage
a/n: How did I get here again? Forgive if a little OOC I don't know the games beyond the one playthrough that was half-watched. Also, this is unbeta'd or edited its fucking midnight here and I'm still processing that somehow 1300+ words just came out of me from a stray thought on a Tuesday...
Summary : Ghost overhears the little technical analyst singing and unlocks a core memory causing an emotion. (Reader is referred to as you, 2nd person pov my beloved)
Ghost hadn’t meant to listen. Sitting in his truck the smoke from the cigarette long faded into the dull throb of remembrance.
Tap tap was the click of shoes on the concrete of the parking garage. His eyes flicker to watch as you the little, (subjective there was nothing little about the thickness of your thighs or waist even if you couldn’t reach his chin without a step stool), technical analyst crossed in front of his truck. You stop at a car turning and sitting on the hood. Phone in hand.
“Ok, I’m alone.” That gets his attention, what were you doing that you needed to be alone for?
“Sing for me!” there is a clearly drunk voice on the other end that he can barely hear. He scoffs and relaxes tension that had rolled like violence along his spine and down to his blood-soaked hands vanishing like smoke.
You whine, soft like a child. Eyes darting around chewing your lower lip raw. As if you’ve just been asked to hand over national secrets not give an impromptu concert. Not like there was lesser evil in that situation.
“It's my engagement party, and you're not here. This is you make it up to me. Please!” He can hear the pouting over the phone and meters away like a physical blow. Even you wince at it.
“Fine.” You take a few deep breaths, your chest expanding like bellows as your eyes flutter closed. He settles back with a half smirk on his lips, this should be interesting.
And oh, oh god. It's not the tinkling of bells, not the high sharp whisper he had half thought you would sound like. The songbird version of the sweet crisp voice he is used to when you pass out data to the Task Force or the gentle voice that whispers in their ears when on missions. No this is deep sonorous and rattles the walls. Like the echoes across the moors that stick to your bones pulling you into their hidden depths till your head is underwater and you are lost. He is lost.
Only when you are closing the song he remembers its name. ‘Evergreen’ from that play/opera thing his ma loved. He remembers taking her to a live production, the glitter of tears in her eyes when the curtain rose. Her hand in his as she hummed along to each song. Breathless laughing indignation when the intermission was called “I was just getting into it!” she had grumbled even as she smiled. When the show ended, she kissed his cheek and thanked him for being a good son. His throat is closing, tight and hot as it tries to force the sudden knot of agony down. Only the echos of memory, of your voice, linger in the cracked spaces of the walls that surround him; that surround you both.
-
“There are you happy now?” You are breathless forcing yourself to speak into your phone, chest heaving, trying to work your throat around the anxiety that lodges itself there. Across the world, your best friend starts screaming and babbling like an overly excited toddler. You can’t help but smile.
“You're still going to be able to come to my wedding right?”
“Yes,” Finally the muscles start to relax allowing you to speak to breathe. “Everyone is on leave for a while. Still leaving Friday.” Picking your words carefully, unable and unwilling to say the boys had just returned from a mission a little worse for wear and wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a tarmac let alone a mission for at least a month.
“Good I need my bestie to walk me down the aisle. Shit I have to go, Alec just arrived and I want to kiss him. I’m picking you up and we're getting cake ok?” Ending the sentence with a kiss.
“Ok.” You smile and return the kiss before the call ends. Heart filled with love.
Still a little shaky you lean over chest to thighs as you wait for the dizzy spell to pass. Singing wasn’t always this hard, but… But. You don’t let yourself go down that path. Baring it in your mind iron bars sliding into place. Keeping that darkness at bay.
bravo bravo bravissimo, the words whisper around you like a mist.
Jolting upright. What was that? Looking around nervous. You were alone. Right? Yet you could have sworn. Sweat breaks across your body as your heart rate spikes, adrenaline flooding your system. Quickly you get up running like a scared rabbit back to the stairwell, with one last look into the dimly lit space hoping, dreading, to see someone else before rushing back to the building that held your office.
-
Hours later and Ghost is wondering what possessed him to say that. Sure your voice was as lovely as the northern lights. Shining out across the darkness spiking towards the earth as if your bright colorful light could hope to touch the dirt so far below you. Sure that was what one of the characters had said to the lass after her song. But why had he said it? And loud enough for you to hear it too. Only to watch you bolt like a frightened hare that heard the braying of dogs.
“LT? Earth ta Ghost?” His eyes slide to Johnny, the Scot’s got an eyebrow raised and a shit-eating grin on his face. Right, he was at the after-action meeting or whatever this bureaucratic time waste was.
He grunts ignoring as best he can those far too bright blue eyes. A mistake when you come into the room. Still as jumpy as a hare. He stiffens, angry at himself knowing he caused that fear that covers you like a cloud. Soap turns and sees it too.
“Y’a alright Bon?” Johnny asks concerned.
“Oh yeah, um.” Your bottom lip looks like it's about to start bleeding and Ghost can’t stop staring at it. Your voice is back to its normal higher pitch and it rings in his ear a false echo of what he knows now. “I got a little spooked earlier in the parking garage that's all.”
Gaz perks up, instantly as concerned as Soap. “What happened? Need us to make sure you get to your car safely?” Waving for you to sit between him and Soap, ready to comfort.
“I thought I heard someone talk to me, but I was certain it was empty. I don’t want to trouble you but if one of you wouldn’t mind walking me to my car. At least till I leave for home on Friday.”
“Course Bon.” Soap smiles reassuringly towards you but when he notices Ghost's eyes on him the smile goes positively cheshier. “Won’t let anything happen t’a y’a, will we LT?” Those damn eyes skip back to him, far too intelligent. God, he knows Soap will be interrogating him later. Still, he nods at you and watches as relief sinks into you, like a wilted flower that suddenly has water again you perk up.
“Thank you.” You settle into a chair finally, relaxing even more as Gaz puts a hand on your back, it makes Ghost bristle without warning or reason. “Let's just hope this meeting wraps up quickly so we can head home early ya?” Handing out packets to both Soap and Gaz before leaning over to hand one to him. Ghost’s gloved hands skim over your fingers as you hand it to him the tiniest zap of energy passing between you both, causing you to squeak in surprise.
“You ok?” He asks.
Blinking before looking up your mouth a perfect little ‘o’ a spark of recognition in your eyes. You look like you're about to say something when Price and Laswell walk in calling the meeting to order.
He can feel your eyes on him. Blinking slowly, tension crawls up his spine as he prepares that it's probably not just going to be Johnny who will be interrogating him soon. Not that he will have answers for either of you.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley cod#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x you#babbling.brook.writing#If it wasn't obvious reader is chubby#Hey where the f*ck did this come from?#Looking at this like its a thing the cat dragged in
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the thing that truly Truly unhinges me about infinity on high is that it is not simply an album about the horrible stomach-wrenching rollercoaster of fame and it is not solely an album about wrestling with your demons but it is a marriage of those two it is very much about fighting the worst parts of yourself in the most public avenues available. it's an album that all but rattles with the amount of references there are to medication. every seeming bout of narcissism is undercut with a sardonic twist and the snap of subtle self-loathing brimming beneath.
and the worst part of it is how that isn't even the worst part of it. the worst part of it for me is the fear. the fear of becoming something other than what you are. the fear of getting better. because this is how the world likes you - broken and stripped down to your ugly parts and embittered and exposed. this is how the world wants you, consumes you, because it's in your brokenness that they pick out such pretty patterns like finding rainbows in shards of glass. it's your wrecked-up brain with all its sporadic misfirings that draws everyone to you like moths to a faulty porchlight. i only keep myself this sick in the head 'cause i know how the words get you off. infinity on high. van gogh, the poster child for the ethos of creating something even at your lowest points. the poster child for the speculative, horrifying ethos of how your flaws and faults and fuck-ups are the only things worth keeping. how often have we seen that rhetoric. if van gogh wasn't depressed, we wouldn't have gotten starry night.
on september 15th 2006 at 9:08pm est pete wentz answered a fan question about what accomplishment of his he is proudest of.
I don’t really think about success or accomplishments too often. I guess just being around. Letting myself move past who I used to be- because that person was continually unhappy. Or at least trying to get to that point and not feel like im “changing for the worse” just because im letting myself feel ok. 10 years ago I didn’t listen to anything anyone said ever for the most part.
on september 18th 2006 at 2:36am est pete wentz wrote on one of his blogs how infinity on high was beginning to feel like a "nocturnal record" as it began to take shape.
somehow the things we say mean more in corners of dancefloors and we focus on love below the waist and outside of the head. "dont you want to get better"- i just dont want you to worry. "dont you want to get better" - tonight i do. the way they say "youre committing slow suicide" when someone lights up or cuts loose. but arent we all. everything we do just shortens our life, every breath is one less. but its what makes everything so treasured. in my head. it aint a funeral babe, i just want the headline to die. recovery is the new drug.
it hurts sometimes thinking about who he was in that moment. someone so fucking scared of getting better and desperate to get better, committing every flaw and insecurity he had to paper and trying to make art out of how desperately he fucking hated himself. as if his pain was the only compelling thing about him.
that's what kills me about this record. truly. it's not just about the perils and pitfalls of fame and renown. it's about how it feels, really feels, to think that your fame is reliant on you fucking hating yourself and how that is killing you.
and yet. infinity on high. a title taken from words written in 1888, from van gogh to his brother, as he talks about how his improving health has had a positive effect on his art.
Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.
van gogh did not give us starry night because he was depressed and suicidal and falling apart. van gogh did not make incredible works of art because of how much he was suffering. van gogh created in spite of that, because he had a brother who loved him and reasons to keep going.
pete wentz did not write some of his best lyrics on infinity on high because he was depressed and suicidal and falling apart. he wrote them in spite of that, because he had people in his life who loved him and over 15 years later he is still alive, he has 3 kids, he has his band who have been together for over 20 years and still love making music together, and at least externally, he no longer feels the need to self-immolate so the onlookers can make pretty patterns from the ashes left over.
#*making poasts#i was rereading some old blog posts for reasons and got so messed up about this#i wasnt even listening to ioh today. i was listening to mostly srar/abap/mania and i got emo ANYWAY#just thinking about the sheer scope in the difference of what he writes about then vs. now#i need to lie down.
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Someone suggested we should revive the tradition of telling ghost stories at Christmas and I thought that sounded fun, so here's my (not very creatively titled) contribution.
A Christmas Ghost Story
Mama moved to the little white cottage at the edge of a derelict lemon grove about twenty years ago, trading dust and howling coyotes for a fresh breeze and sea lions barking in the distance. She learned as a child how to pull cholla from the dog’s long hair and to read every constellation in the immense, pitch black sky as easily as neon signs. She grew up taciturn, her words sparse and sharp like the desert flora she loved. To this day, the scent of creosote still clings faintly to her skin, or maybe it just seems that way.
I’ve never quite understood what happened to make her suddenly pull up the stakes and land in this mild world, never far from the laughter of gulls or waves crashing against the sand.
I lived there, too, though I don’t remember it well. I was born on the winter solstice in the crowded emergency room of the only hospital for a hundred miles.
“Dropped you right on the floor like a loaf of bread,” Mama laughs.
She loves to tell me about the time she looked through the kitchen window and saw me in the garden, wearing diapers, tiny cowboy boots, and a tie-dye t-shirt, pulling up a carrot to feed a wild burro.
“I wish I remembered that,” I say each time.
“You were so little, I’m not surprised you don’t,” she replies.
My only memory of that place is the lonely owl calling for a mate through long winter nights, and the time I looked out to see its inscrutable face staring at me from the low sycamore branch outside my window. It hooted in surprise and flew away on soft, silent wings.
I also can’t even remember the last time Mama slept through the night. I first noticed her insomnia when I awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep to her crying into her hands at the foot of my bed, the mattress creaking with each heave of her chest.
“Mama?”
“Nicole!”
Her face radiated shock. She looked around the room, filled with carefully labeled unopened boxes, and felt for my face on the pillow.
“Nicole? Baby, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
“That’s OK Mama, I wasn’t tired anyhow.”
I threw my arms around her until her sorrow was spent and she collapsed into sleep by my side.
The next night, wailing from the kitchen woke me. I glided barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen doorway. Mama spun around to face me, screamed, and dropped the glass of water she had just filled into the sink.
“Nicky, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
I’d never seen her so rattled, and after that, left her to comfort herself. She went to work in the day, unpacked boxes in the evening, and most nights wandered forlornly around the house while I listened to her muffled footsteps and moans from my bed. Her life settled into a rhythm. She planted flowers and tended a few of the spindly lemon trees. On days when she swam in the surf, Mama returned smelling of citrus and kelp.
I think, after a time, she was happy enough because she began coming into my room sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, telling me stories of her childhood or poring over a photo album where she holds me, wrapped tightly in a blue and pink blanket, triumphantly on a hospital bed, or kisses me on the cheek on my first day of school. We laugh at the one where I’m barking back at the dog, and she caresses my chubby little baby legs in a bathtub photo. I always want her to tell me about the picture of me sitting on Santa’s lap, but she turns the page so fast I only catch a glimpse. I enfold her in my love, sure that nothing can breach such a formidable barrier, but her eyes are always hollow.
She baked me beautiful birthday cakes, fluffy pink frosting and sprinkles giving way to smooth ganache or fondant as the years passed. When I tired of my window’s unicorn and rainbow curtains, Mama redid my whole bedroom in sophisticated shades of blue and green, and replaced my wardrobe with the latest fashions.
At the heart of our domestic bliss, however, lay the mysterious sadness that tinged Mama’s speech and forced careful, measured movements from her always-tired limbs, as if the weight of even so slight a body as hers was more than she could bear. Something heavy flattened happiness and unhappiness alike and she trudged deliberately through her days.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” I would ask. She met my longing gaze with her own, then turned her head away.
Christmas came especially hard for her, and frequent calls from her sister only made her more despondent.
“Justine, you need to do something good for yourself. If you can’t make it for Christmas, please come visit for New Year’s. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” Aunt Susan implored over voicemail. “I love you and am here if you need me.”
We decorated a tree each year and Mama sang carols as she mopped the floor or baked cookies for her office but the closer we got to Christmas the quieter she became and she spent most nights curled up in her bed alone as soon as it got dark.
For some reason, I never seem to remember Christmas. I can remember the weeks before but as the date gets closer, it’s like I fall into a void within myself sometime around Christmas Eve and remain there until Mama’s sobbing drags me back and life goes on as usual.
“I would so love to see you, Justine, and it would be good for you to get away,” Aunt Susan said yesterday over the phone. Mama sighed and looked me up and down, as if noticing for the first time how adult I had become.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
We spent the night looking at the old photos and telling the old stories, and some new ones about our life in the cottage, and as the weak Christmas Eve day sun struggled over the mountains to the east, Mama took my hand and rose.
“Nicky, come. I want to show you something.”
We got into the car and blasted through a maze of freeways until the air became dry and sharp and ragged mountains rose pink and grey to our right. We turned onto a smaller highway, and finally, a single-lane road. It felt both new and as familiar as my room, an uneasy sensation that made me nervous.
Mama parked the car in front of a shady, grassy park. We entered and strolled through what turned out to be gravestones. Mama clutched my hand and strode toward a slab of pink granite on the far end of the field. Her pulse pounded in the vein of her neck and she swallowed back tears.
“It’s OK, Mama, I’m here,” I said bravely, squeezing her hand.
“Nicole, I need you to just watch and listen for a moment,” she whispered. “Look.”
Engraved on the stone in tidy Gothic font it said:
NICOLE SUSAN BRISCOE
DECEMBER 21, 1994 - DECEMBER 24, 2000
Beloved daughter, forever young
The tattered remains of several stuffed animals and plastic flowers sat at the base and glass candleholders with printed dates lay scattered over the grave: 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017. Fragments of broken glass hinted at even older candles.
Mama took a new candleholder and lighter from her purse. I saw a label with “2022” on it as the flame leaped onto the wick. I felt as if my guts were being torn out through my feet.
Mama cleared a space and set the candle down with the others, then faced me with both my hands in hers.
“Nicky, I need you to really listen this time. This is your home. I suppose it has been for 22 years.”
“I don’t understand, Mama!”
She smoothed the panic off my face with the back of her hand.
“We were coming home from the mall. You had sat for the first time on Santa’s lap and you were so scared at first! But he told you a joke and asked what you wanted for Christmas and when you smiled, that’s when the photographer took your picture. We had hot cocoa and started on the way home.”
I felt dizzy and had a sudden sensation of speed as images and sounds came back in a blur. Metal crunching. Pain. Oblivion. Then Mama sobbing on my bed.
“But we never made it. Or, rather, I eventually did but you did not. A drunk driver going the wrong way hit us head on. The airbag saved my life but not yours.”
I crumpled as if struck by lightning. Mama knelt and cradled my face in her hands.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I swerved but it was too late. I wish it had been me.”
I heard the most piteous wailing come out of my open mouth and could not make it stop.
“You are grown now, and have been for years,” Mama said gently. “It’s time for you to move on, and for me to move on too. This time, I’m begging you to please stay.”
We huddled on the grave, Mama stroking my hair and wiping away my tears, while the candle sputtered out and coyotes seranaded the twilight. I inhaled her scent, which was that of the desert itself, and pressed my ravaged face against her breast as lethargy seeped into me and my vision began to fade.
“This gets harder every year, Nicky,” Mama murmured. “I can’t do it anymore. You can't keep coming back."
She kissed my cheek but I barely felt it because my face was starting to dissolve.
“Mama! Help!” I shrieked, but she heard only agonized moans.
“I love you, Nicole. Goodbye,” Mama said as the earth absorbed me in a mist.
Mama dried her own tears and reached for her phone.
“Hi, Susan?” she said wearily. “Can you pick me up at the airport tomorrow?”
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hi i have a request 💚😁
So reader and Loki are at a party (reader is an introvert and hates parties and so is planning on clinging to Loki throughout the whole thing but Loki doesn’t know that this is her plan) but Loki wants to tease reader by kind of like avoiding them and talking to other people instead. but a bunch of bad things happen to reader like her drink gets spiked but she noticed and didn’t drink it but was about to etc. and so she gets really really upset and emotional.
thank youuuu 💚💚💚💚
So sorry this has taken me a minute to get to!!! And thanks so much for sending it to me!!! I tweaked a tiny tiny bit, not alot though I promise!! 💚💚💚💚
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Stark Party
Pairing: Loki x reader
Warnings: mentions of panic attack, anxiety, social anxiety, introvert behavior, mentions of alcohol, drinks getting spiked.
Summary: you worked at stark tower as one of the avengers assistants, your weren't bug on large crowds, so it was perfect, until the night of a Stark party.
"Y/n, there you are!" You heard Tony behind you. "Listen, I'm hosting a party tonight for all my employees and their families." He said. "Ooook, and what does that have to do with me?" You asked. "Well, your coming too." He smiled. "Umm, thank you but no, me and large parties don't mix well." You said turning to leave.
"Well its mandatory, bring your boyfriend or someone." He said. "I don't have one." You said glaring at him. "Oh, well I'll see you tonight, starts at 8." He called over his shoulder as he walked out, leaving you in the kitchen. "Shit." You sighed heading to your office, unaware a certain God had heard the whole encounter.
"Greetings y/n." Loki said coming into your office. "Hey Loki, what are you up to?" You asked going through your paperwork. "Not much...right now. Are you going to the party this evening?" He asked sitting down. "Yeah, apparently I don't have a choice." You huffed setting some files down. "Do you not like Starks parties? They are quite lavish." He smiled.
"No, I don't. I have a hard time being around that many people, but...'You trailed off waving your hand. You did your best to keep your eyes down, trying not to look at him. You had gotten to know the God pretty well since you started working at the tower, he was funny, clever and no one could compete with his wit and charm. You liked to think you were friends, but over time, your feelings turned.
"Well I will be attending as well, so maybe I will see you there?" He said as you looked up, your eyes taking him in. He was wearing black slacks and a dark blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up. Your eyes traveled up, seeing his beautiful black hair falling past his shoulders, why did he have better hair then you did? Meeting his deep green eyes as he smiled. "Yes, i....I'll see you there." You nervously smiled as he got up. "Until then y/n." He nodded leaving, you couldn't help watch as he walked out, the man was sex on legs.
You finished getting ready, looking in the mirror straightening out your dress, you went with a simple black maxi dress, hitting mid thigh and black heels. You sighed, trying to prepare yourself. "It's ok, Loki will be there, I'll just stick with him." You said to yourself. Loki always seemed to have a way of calming your nerves, so you decided tonight you wouldn't leave his side.
You walked in, cringing inwardly as the bass rattled you. Everything was loud and too much. People were everywhere. You looked around for Loki, he wasn't hard to spot with his tall stature. And then your saw him, in the corner with Thor. You swallowed and made you way to him.
"There she is, how are you y/n?" Thor asked as you appeared next to Loki "i...im ok." You said looking at Loki, who was still wearing the black slacks but switched to a light blue button up, accentuating his dark hair. "I'll grab you a drink." Thor said. "Oh, I don't drink, just a soda please." You smiled as he nodded. You shifted closer to Loki, practically touching him and it didn't go unnoticed as Loki smiled down at you.
"What? Do I look weird?" You asked looking at yourself. "No, quite the opposite, you look lovely." He smiled making you blush. "Thanks, so do you." You whispered as he smiled. Thor returned with your drink as Loki winked at you and walked off, leaving you stunned. "W...where is he going?" You asked Thor. "Probably to cause some mischief somewhere." He laughed loudly making you jump. "Will you excuse me?" You said as Thor nodded.
You made your way through the room, looking for the God as your anxiety began to rise. You saw him talking to a group of people as he looked at you smiling. You made your way to him, but he was gone when you got there. "Shit, where are you." You said looking around again. "Y/n, how are you?" You heard one of the agents, Mark you believed, say as he grabbed your waist and pulled you to him. "Please let go of me." You said pushing against him. "Have some fun, you need to loosen up." He said as you pushed out of his grip storming off.
"Loki....where are you?" You felt your eyes burn, everything was becoming too much. You saw Loki at the bar, and hurried to him. "Hey, why did you leave?" You asked as he smiled. "I must mingle darling, part of being an avenger apparently." He said grabbing two drinks as he winked and walked off.
You went to follow as the heel of your shoe broke, almost making you fall. You sat your drink down, leaning down to remove your shoes "Well, those are done." You said standing back up seeing Mark standing by your drink, pouring something in it. "What are you doing?" You asked walking to him. "Like I said, you need to loosen up." He smiled walking off. You picked up your drink, smelling what you were sure was whiskey as you set it down.
You leaned on the bar, closing your eyes you took deep breaths, trying your best to focus. Your anxiety was through the roof, you could feel your chest tighten with each breath. You opened your eyes as tears streamed down your cheeks. "Y/n, are you ok?" You heard next to you as someone touched your arm, making you jerk away "don't touch me!" You yelled, looking up seeing Thor. "I apologize, I didn't mean.." he started.
"I need to leave, I can't be here, I was going to stick with Loki, but he obviously doesn't give a shit since he's spent the night avoiding me." You rambled as your thoughts spiraled. "Y/n, he...." Thor tried again. "Goodnight Thor." You said storming off. You were almost to the door when you looked over, seeing Loki talking to some woman as she ran a hand up his arm laughing. You felt the tears threatening again as Loki looked at you, his smile fading.
Just as you turned to leave you felt a cold liquid spill down your front, soaking your dress. "Oops, guess you'll have to take that off." You heard Mark, seeing he had dumped his whole drink on you. You felt your face heat up as tears streamed down your face. You shoved Mark out of the way and ran to your office, slamming the door behind you, moving the chair, climbing under the desk.
You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, you laid your head on your knees, trying to calm your breathing. You didn't hear when Loki came in calling your name, only noticing when he was kneeling next to you. He reached his hand out as you flinched away, looking wide eyed at him as tears streamed down your cheeks.
He pulled his hand back, watching you "y/n, listen to my voice, deep breaths." He said as he began breathing deeply. You watched his chest rise and fall, breathing in unison. "That's it, keep going. Focus on me." He said as you looked up at him. "Y...you.....you left me." You said shakely between breaths as his eyes softened. "I'm so sorry darling, I....I was being stupid." He said "w....why?" You asked as he sighed "because, i.....I like you. And I thought maybe you liked me too, so I decided to tease you, see if you would follow me......and....." he trailed off looking down.
You felt your heart slow as you got your breathing under control. "Y...you like me?" You asked turning your head. "Yes, I do. Alot actually. But I never should have left you alone out there." He said looking at you. "Well, I never told you about my anxiety issues, so it wasn't your fault." You said looking down at your wet dress. "May i?" He asked as you nodded, waving his hand with a green flash your dress was dry.
You scooted out from under the desk, kneeling on the floor in front if him. "I'm sorry y/n, I understand if you dont...." he started as you leaned up kissing his cheek. "I like you too Loki, alot." You smiled as you leaned back, seeing his hand rub his cheek. "Let me help you home." He said getting up holding his hands out helping you up. "You stay here, I'll grab your cost and be right back." He said smiling.
He helped you out of the cab, standing in front of your building holding your shoes you looked up at him. "Umm would you.....I mean if you want.....i have tea....." you stuttered as he smiled. "I would love some darling." He smiled as you opened the door. Your evening didn't start well, but you knew it would end with a bang....
💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
@vbecker10 @high-functioning-lokipath @buttercupbestie @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lonadane @mcufan72 @daggers-and-mischief @lily-sinclair-2006 @lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @limiworld @mochie85 @sinsandguilt @chickencouncilrep @lulubelle814 @midnights-ramblings @commanding-officer @xorpsbane @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokixryss @froggiecky @intoxicatinginsanity @lokislittleprincess
#loki#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki imagine#loki oneshot#loki x reader#loki x you#loki x female reader#loki x y/n#loki angst#loki odinson imagine#loki odinson fanfiction#loki odinson oneshot#loki odinson x you#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson x y/n#loki odinson#loki odinson angst#loki laufeyson imagine#loki laufeyson fanfic#loki laufeyson one shot#loki laufeyson x y/n#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x female reader#loki laufeyson x you#loki request#requests#writing asks#mcu loki
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TABINOF/TATINOF (4) Masterlist
part one, part two, part three
2015 (ao3) - outphan
Summary: Dan and Phil are writing TABINOF.
A Break (ao3) - phangelica
Summary: Phil decides they need a break
a conversation about announcements and surprises (ao3) - PoisonedMind
Summary: They’re both sitting at the table, laptops and phones splayed out in front of them. It feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room entirely, they’re in a vacuum, space, no sound able to travel and no oxygen to breathe.
because we are fools (ao3) - queerofcups
Summary: He realizes it calmly at first, and then suddenly with more clarity. He’s in love with Phil.
But he absolutely cannot be in love with Phil.
Boyfriends Without Benefits (ao3) - iihappydaysii
Summary: There's only one real bed on the tatinof tour bus and Phil's willing to share it with Dan. The problem? Dan's in love with Phil and Phil has no idea.
can you be sure there's gonna be more? (ao3) - danhoweiis
Summary: dnp go to their afterparty after their last tatinof show in the uk
Crash Barriers, Cold Night Air (ao3) - philsdrill
Summary: It’s a bumpy night on the tour bus for Dan and Phil, and Phil’s feeling a little sick. Through a trip outside to get off the bus, and a reminder of what dinner looked like, Dan takes care of Phil. Fluff.
defining a life by full stops and him (ao3) - zvyozdochka (paperdaisies)
Summary: The book is a window, of sorts, framing your life in neat margins and a mess of brainstorming sheets. It’s easier to see in from the outside, and memories that had faded into a comfortable, if bewildering, wallpaper, are cast into stark relief. You can see, in black and white, how two entities came to be danandphil, and you will be honest with yourself as you try to be in these matters: it is quietly terrifying.
drape me in your warmth (ao3) - deathlytireddan
Summary: "It's like...what if this is all we'll ever do?" Dan's eyes are anxious, nervous.
-
Obligatory tour fic.
dream (ao3) - orphan_account
Summary: dan's only dream is to take the world by storm and change it
Deep Breath (ao3) - ahappyphil
Summary: Dan and Phil visit the Isle of Man to finish TABINOF
i can hear it now (like i heard it then) (ao3) - kay_okay
Summary: Dan watches Phil light up, and suddenly feels like everything's in slow motion. They're still making their way up 7th, Times Square’s persistent neon glow casting waves of pinks and greens and yellows onto the pale of Phil’s face like a projector to a wall. He's struck by his own memory, their own night up on the Manchester Eye, surrounded by another city dark and light at the same time.
He doesn’t hear a word of Phil’s story.
i quit my dreaming (the moment that i found you) (ao3) - phanetixs
Summary: Phil pulls back when Dan’s teary-eyed and staring at the ceiling. “Whatever you’re worrying about, don’t. We’ll be ok.”
Or, the end of TATINOF and its implications.
"I'm Filming You" (ao3) - yikesola
Summary: There’s a rumbling. A rattling. Phil isn't exactly sure where it’s coming from. It seems to just be all around him.
A fic about sleeping and teasing.
Lean On (ao3) - philsdrill
Summary: It’s halfway into the tour and Dan’s feeling a bit run down. When he doesn’t have the energy, Phil is a shoulder to lean on.
Llama Legs (ao3) - Anonymous
Summary: After a short break, Dan and Phil are about to begin the next arm of their breakout international tour, TATINOF. The problem is, all good little boys have to have some form of entertainment during their break - and Dan has just began exploring his little-space. What happens when Dan doesn't listen to Phil and decides not to use the toilet before beginning a show, leading to a regression?
Looking After You (Like You Do For Me) (ao3) - DryCereal
Summary: Phil's sick. Not for the first time on this tour, but making sure he's okay will always be Dan's priority.
Love Me The Same (ao3) - reapingwithjoy
Summary: Where their driver during their US tour is fond of playing a love radio station while they travel at night. Dan kind of loves it.
Our New Puppy (ao3) - pasteldanhowells
Summary: Dan and Phil are about to go on tour in just under a few days, so of course Phil is shocked when Dan comes home with a small puppy in his arms. Phil knows they won't be able to keep it, not with how busy they're about to be, but that won't stop Dan from trying to convince Phil to let them keep him.
Perfect (ao3) - Anonymous
Summary: Phil is going to make TATINOF perfect-whatever it takes to get there.
Persuasion (ao3) - InsightfulInsomniac
Summary: It’s three am on the tour bus, and Phil wants Dan to come back to bed. All it takes is a little persuasion.
Ray of Light (ao3) - phanburnhamizzard
Summary: It's zero dark-thirty at an empty Mcdonald's somewhere in America and they crew has stopped in to get a bite to eat before going to sleep. Dan inadvertently says something funny and Phil gets hysterical. Dan wants no part of it, which makes Phil laugh even harder.
said it was love and did it for life (did it for you) (ao3) - deletable_bird
Summary: Dan is down on his knees the first time Phil mentions weddings with any seriousness
snapshots (ao3) - waveydnp
Summary: little moments from a big tour
Spoons (ao3) - orphan_account
Summary: During their American tour, Dan and Phil find their sleeping selves indulging in ways they haven't done in years.
The Perfectionist (ao3) - apoetacriminal
Summary: Dan and Phil were on top of the world. With the succesful release of their book and their upcoming tour, things couldn’t be going better for the pair. But with so much attention on him, the preassure to be perfect was starting to get to Dan. And The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire, which should’ve been the best time of their lives, almost tore them apart
The stranger who loved me. (ao3) - Septic84
Summary: “Well, that’s nice I guess,” he paused, “but I have no idea who you are.”
“Haha, very funny,”
“I wasn’t being funny,”
“What?” I swallowed hard, “You don’t know who I am?”
“No, am I supposed to?”
The (Un)Dressing Room (ao3) - Spring_Haze
Summary: Dan and Phil take advantage of a little privacy amid the chaos while on tour for The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire.
Too Tall For His Own Good (ao3) - orphan_account
Summary: Dan and Phil head off, spending their first night on the TATINOF tour bus. Dan offers Phil the master bed, but things don't go as planned.
Unspoken Rules (ao3) - jestbee
Summary: They have rules.
1. They don't kiss
2. They don't talk about it
3. They aren't exclusive
4. They don't get attached
5. It's over when the tour is
As long as they abide by the rules, no one gets hurt. Simple, right?
Up-Down Hills and Forgotten Pills (ao3) - philsdrill
Summary: A road full of hills and forgetting his pills isn’t exactly Phil’s idea of fun. Phil gets travelsick on the tatinof bus and Dan looks after him.
#phanfic#phanfictioncatalogue#phanfiction#phan#masterlists#tabinof#tabinof masterlist#tatinof#tatinof masterlist
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Nanami Kento who fucks you in the bathroom during a work party. He warned you not to wear that dress; the one that was meant for his eye only because it made you look like a slut. But you never listened! You were always such a brat! And now he has to stand by and grind his teeth to dust watching you socialise and hold himself back from clawing the eyes of all the men who were openly gawking at you! He thought he could do it, praising himself for always being rational and for successfully warding away the jealousy that was making him nauseous as he watched you smile at something being said. He always thought himself as a civilised man but all those thoughts went out the window when one of the douchebags put his hand around your waist. He saw red! He wanted to rip that hand from his body and before he knew it, he was standing before you grabbing and removing the fucker's hand off you.
Nanami grabbed your hand and led you to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door behind you.
You open your mouth to speak but are silenced with a kiss so fierce, your knees buckled under you. Moaning into his you felt him lift up your dress and could hear the ripping of your panties.
"Ken, we can't! There are people outside" You try to reason with him but you hear him unbuckle his belt and pulling down his pants just enoughto free his cock. The sight of him painfully hard makes your mouth run dry. The look he gives you broaches no argument.
He devours your moans as he slates his mouth over yours, lifting you at the same time. Your legs wrap around his legs instinctively and you feel yourself being impaled onto his cock. He didn't prep you like he usually does so taking him like this made the stretch of him sting despite you being wet. You whimpered as you tried to adjust to the size of him but he didn't give you time before he started to move. The pace he set had the door behind you rattling on its hinges. You placed your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans but it was useless.
"Such a fucking brat!" He grunts in your ear before smacking your ass causing you to let out a scream.
"Kento, slow down!" You moaned as his cock kissed that spot inside you that made your head spin but his pace never faltered. "I'm cumming!" You wail as you shudder around his cock causing him to hiss as you clamp down around him.
He stills as your orgasm washes over you before picking up the pace again. His thrusts were so deep you could swear you could feel him in your throat. Tears run down your face ruining what was left of your make up. You feel him swelling up inside you before he pumps you full of his cum into you causing you to cum a second time.
Breathlessly, he runs his hands through your hair bringing your lips to his for a tender kiss. You wince as he pulls out.
"Are you OK?" He mumbles against your lips and you give him a weak nod.
"Look what you make me do!" He tsks softly as places you on the countertop, trying rearranging both your garments. But it's of no use, the both of you were beyond dishevelled and you couldn't return to the party.
You chuckle weakly as you rest your head on his shoulder. "This was the reaction I was hoping for". He smiles at you and kisses your hair.
"Minx" He says affectionately.
"Let's go home" you sigh into his chest as he carries you to the car.
I. CANNOT. BREATHE. RIGHT. NOW.
#NOT THE IMAGE AT THE END TOO.#ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME#I AM TOO FRAGILE FOR THIS YUMMY GOODNESS#ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh#just when I thought I could get myself together you feed me this#“minx”#I heard his voice#and saw his reaction#so perfectly#squeezing my thighs#screaming crying#peach and friends.🍑🧡#mail 💌
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Miia x Reader
The only FxF request I received on Wattpad, go figure it was a monster girl lmfao. I used to flip through the Monster Girl Encyclopedia out of boredom, I've always been a bit of a monster fucker. This was only reinforced by men like Sukuna, Rudra and Shiva, that 4 arm magic kills me~
(Y/n) sat quietly on the couch, the other girls of the house were asleep, but she couldn't find rest with the window rattling from the boom of thunder echoing all around. A storm had come through while she was over visiting her friends, (Y/n) had known Kimihito from childhood and when she came out, he was the first she told. It was because of her interest in girls that the others in the house had warmed up to her, well at except for one. Miia had always been cold to her, the snake girl didn't believe that (Y/n) had absolutely no interest in men. It was irritating because Miia would throw tantrums or try to intimidate her like a self-entitled brat, of course she'd back off when (H/c) head would snap and scold her, but it was getting difficult to enjoy her time over. She couldn't even have a conversation with Kimihito without Miia sitting there and butting in, or on occasion simply listening to them talk like she was waiting on (Y/n) to mess up.
Had it not been for her fear of storms, the human girl would have walked home. Another clash of thunder made the couch ridden female flinch, the windows almost vibrated and the lightening lit up the room for a mere moment. Then the stove light which provided a bit of dim light went out, the overwhelming silence told her the fans were out as well. When looking out of the window she noticed most of the neighborhood was out of power. Now she was bathed in darkness, the pounding of rain being the only thing to drown out the pounding of her heart.
A strike of lightning filled the room once more and made the young (H/c) head tense in preparation for the deafening boom, but when nothing came, she took comfort in the idea that maybe the storm was moving away. That was until a sudden roar shattered the silence, the thunder being so violent in its sound that she feared the windows would explode. The sound made her body jolt hard enough that she slipped off of the couch, making her yelp as her head hit the ground. The strike made the deep darkness spiral as the pain had her holding the back of her head, her hearing had gone out and so she didn't hear the soft slithering against the floor as she slowly set up to avoid making the throbbing worse. Though she was aware of the second person when they had gently touched her shoulder, her head swung in the direction that the touch came from which made her vision spin before she was able to focus on Miia standing(?*) with a flashlight. The girl seemed concerned, especially when another boom of thunder made the female on floor flinch and whimper.
"Are you ok (Y/n)? The thunder woke me up." The red head went about helping the girl back on the couch, taking a look at the back of the girl's head she could tell it was swelling a little. So, she quickly left for a moment to grab an ice pack, (Y/n) was somewhat surprised by the lamia's concern but spoke up softly as the sound of rain was the only other sound to fill the silence. "I'm fine... I just don't like thunder is all..." The snake girl returned to her and pressed the cold pack to the spot the (H/c) head hit on the floor, sitting the flashlight on the table for a minute as she began to light a few candles that were around the room. "I don't care for it either, it's hard to sleep when the house sounds like it's going to explode." The red head sat beside the young female, giving her a soft smile. "I guess since I'm awake I'll just sit in here with you, there isn't much else to do."
(Y/n) had nodded her head, blushing slightly at how cute the snake girl looked in the candlelight.
And so, they sat on the couch, it was silent at first before Miia spoke up. "How do you know you don't like boys?" The look on her face told (Y/n) that this was a genuine question, and it made her happy in a strange way. As if they could make some progress towards understanding, so she turned to face the snake girl. "Well as a kid I didn't really care about that stuff, but then as a teen I felt... Pressured to like boys. I tried dating them, and I could only ever like them as a friend. I didn't really feel it. like there was an indifference I felt towards them. Like I enjoyed their company, they weren't bad people but... I just didn't love them love them."* She took a breath to think of her next words, Miia sitting quietly and listening with intent. "But then I met a girl... She was so sweet and caring, we started as friends but as time went on, I felt something develop... A feeling I wasn't familiar with... Like happiness, but deeper. I did confront her about it, and she explained to me that what I was feeling had been the beginnings of love... Though she told me that she wasn't into girls, but she stayed my friend and helped me to understand I don't have to only like guys. That my feelings were mine and screw what others thought."
She giggled at the fond memories she had, it was rough at first, but she had found her way with help. It certainly told her who her real friends were, Kimihito was one of them. "I lost friends when I came out, they thought there was something wrong with me and walked away. Kimihito was one of a handful that didn't care, he's the only one that still lives in the city which is why I always come over..." Those words made the snake girl look away, she almost seemed ashamed and (Y/n) figured that she might feel guilty about how she had been acting. Before she could say more a clash of thunder practically shook the place to its foundation. That had made (Y/n) yelp and hold her ears, which told Miia that the (H/c) head was afraid of the thunder and wasn't just startled before.
(Y/n) had pulled her knees to her chest, still holding her ears. Though she looked up in surprise when she felt something squeezing around her, she found that Miia had curled her snake like lower body around the curled-up girl and was hugging her gently from behind. It was comfortable and warm, she felt how Miia had rested her head on top of (Y/n)'s so the girl simply relaxed. "You're safe here (Y/n)... I'm sorry for how I was acting, so please keep coming over. Everyone likes your company... Even me..." She cuddled her closer, smiling when the girl told her that it was ok. She was looking forward to having her around, because in reality as of late the snake girl had begun feeling jealous that everyone else was getting (Y/n)'s attention. Now she had a chance of getting her turn, it would be nice to get her focus without having to make her mad.
#Monster musume#daily life with a monster girl#miia#x reader#x fem reader#fem x fem#fluff#candy cult vault#Miia x Fem Reader
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𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲
✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes
✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: with you i serve, with you i fall down. watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out.
✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: hint of autistic!Bucky, inaccurate medical writing by me (pls dont resusitate someone by hitting and punching their chest ok), internalized homophobia but only briefly, violence, blood, hospitals, nightmares. mentions of murder, and weapons.
✰ 𝐚/𝐧: just me channelling my inner @musette22 honestly. inspired by this convo with @natashasera. will probably include a part two at some point.
to who ever reads this: don't bother asking for a part two, you won't get it. i am the owner of this fic, and this blog, and I, and only I, will decided what fic gets a part two and when. respect me and my wishes or get off my blog. thanks!
don't forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.
The Asset collapsed beside The Target's body, watching it's shallow breathing. It knows it should flee, but The Target is important. not just important to it's handlers, but to The Asset as well. The Target knew The Asset, and carried an expression on its face that The Asset had never seen before.
The Target coughed, blood spurting from its mouth. The Target wheezed, and before The Asset could think about his actions, he was pulling on Steve's arm, and rolling him onto his side, maneuvering him into the recovery position.
Bucky blinked, confused. where was he? what had happened? he looked around him, and saw large skyscrapers reaching into the heavens. his breathing was now as shallow as Steve's was only moments ago, which made him look back at Steve, not being able to hear Steve's rattling chest anymore. the same rattling chest that kept him up at night, the two of them crammed into a small twin sized bed because thats all they could afford.
he pushed Steve on his back, and flesh hand shook, trying to remember what Sarah, Steve's mom and the best second parent Bucky could have asked for, taught him to do if her son ever stopped breathing. he choked out a sob, leaning down and listening for breathing. he choked out a laugh, hearing the steady rise and fall of his lungs, smooth and healthy. his eyes roamed over Steve's body, and he slowly began to piece together that had happened since the last time they were in their cozy Brooklyn apartment.
the war, the draft, the serum. the train, the metal bar breaking and plunging him into the snowy depths below. seeing Steve's break out into terror and desperation, and the ground came rushing towards him faster than a leaf falling from a tree.
he looked down, feeling warmth surround one of his knees. thick, scarlet blood was pouring from an injury on Steve's side, and there was too much blood. too much for him, even.
"fuck, Stevie," Bucky whimpered, and rolled him over. Bucky's body almost crumpled seeing the gunshot wound in Steve's side. "no, no, no," he gasped, pressing his hands to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Steve was pale, too pale. paler than when he got tuberculosis, and Bucky lost Steve twice in one night, bringing him back each time with a combination of CPR, praying, and slapping his white skin.
"Stevie, don't do this," he begged, just like he had then. "jus' stay with me. stay with me, i'll get you help. c'mon," he said, pushing all his body weight on the wound.
suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. his head whipped around, and his eyes landed on a man in a SHIELD uniform. hope filled his tired body, and he broke out into a smile.
"sir," he gasped for air, feeling 10 years old again, and helping Steve after some playground bullies beat him up. "i need help. i think he's bleeding out," he said.
his eyes were so focused on the other man, that he didn't notice the bleeding stop. he also didn't notice blue eyes gazing up at him, filled with love.
"h-he needs help," Bucky gasped, not understanding why the man wasn't moving. "he's gonna die, and i can't lose him, please!" he begged, and watched as the man groaned.
"man, Pierce is gonna kill me," the man groaned, and walked towards Bucky. Bucky went to smile, but all the muscles in his face relaxed and contorted into terror as the man grabbed his tac suit on the shoulder, and began to drag him away.
Bucky shook his head, a scream ripping from his throat.
"NO!" he shouted, trying to get away. "you have to help him! he's gonna die!"
the man groaned, and reached for his gun. "can't believe i got roped into doing this shit," he growled, but before he could as much as pull his gun out of his holster, he was interrupted by a deep, smooth voice.
"don't even think about it, Rumlow." Steve said, struggling to keep his voice steady, pointing his own gun at the rogue agent.
"it's not-" Rumlow began, releasing Bucky, and letting him crash onto his dislocated arm, pain shooting up his torso.
"it's not personal?" Steve growled, moaning in pain and inching closer to Rumlow, the gun pressing closer to him. "it sure feels like it. especially if you're going after the one person i'd burn the world for if it meant i could save him."
"Cap, i'm just following orders." Rumlow tried to reason, but before he could finish his defence, a gun shot rang out, and Rumlow fell to the ground, dead before he even made contact with the wet grass.
Bucky broke out into sobs, grabbing onto Steve's tac suit with his flesh hand.
"Stevie-" he gasped, and Steve fell to his knees. his hands grabbed onto Bucky, and he pulled him close.
"'m here," Steve said, voice growing weak. "'s all right, you're safe."
"don't leave." Bucky begged, soaking Steve's dirty suit with his tears.
Steve went to answer, but was interrupted by Sam running into the clearing where they were. upon seeing Bucky, he pulled his gun out, but was stopped by Steve.
"don't," Steve said. "he's fine. it's him, not the other one." Sam nodded, and called over his comm his location to Nat, Fury, and Maria.
"are you hurt," Sam asked, approaching them. Steve nodded.
"he is too," Steve said, motioning to Bucky. "his arm is dislocated."
Sam got on his knees and nodded. "okay. Bucky, can you roll over so i can put your arm back in the socket?" he asked, and Bucky looked warily up at Steve, but when Steve nodded, he complied, his hand still gripping Steve's suit.
"3...2...1..." Sam counted down, before pushing on his arm, and popping it back in place. Bucky let out a shout, hot tears rolling down his face at the pain. Steve shushed him and wiped his tears as a helicopter approached. as they were brought inside the helicopter and the door slid shut behind him, Bucky didn't let go of Steve, and continue to cry into his chest, afraid that Steve would slip away if he let go of him.
"no!" Bucky said, readjusting his grip on Steve's suit. "don'! don't take him!" Bucky cried, breathing heavy.
"Bucky," Sam said, his hand wrapping around Bucky's and trying to get him to release Steve. they'd made it to the hospital, and the nurses had tried to wheel Steve away for surgery, but Bucky refused to part with him. "he's gonna be okay. they're just gonna take him into surger-"
"NO!" Bucky screeched, flinging himself ontop of Steve. "you can't!" he exclaimed, and Sam and Nat shared a confused look. "the last t-time he went into surgery he got sepsis and almost d-died!" Bucky sobbed, and Nat sighed, before slowly walking up to him, and gently prying his hand off of Steve, allowing the nurses to wheel him away.
"it's okay, James," she whispered, seeing the terror and heartbreak on Bucky's face as Steve was wheeled away. Bucky tried to pull away, but his body remained where it was, exhausted. "he's strong. super strong, remember?" she said, moving his dirty hair from his face. "remember how he got the serum, and he wasn't sick anymore?" she prompted, and Sam, realizing what she was doing, sat down on Bucky's other side, and rubbed his shoulder.
"he just needs to get the bullet removed, and get some stitches," Sam said. "once that's done, you can go see him again, okay?" Sam said, and him and Natasha smiled at each other when he began to relax into their arms. "he's going to be okay." Sam said, and looked at Nat as she ran her fingers through his hair.
"why don't we go back to my place and get you cleaned up?" she offered. "Steve's going to be in surgery for a while, and he'll be happy to see you clean," she said. Bucky pondered it for a moment, before agreeing, and letting Sam help him stand up, and the three of them slowly made their way out of the hospital, and into Nat's car.
"can you tell me the last thing you remember," Nat asked as she washed Bucky's hair in the kitchen sink. "before the draft?" Bucky nodded, and thought back.
"i remember saving Steve from a fight behind some diner. i guess he had heard someone cat calling one of our old school friends, and decided to give him a piece of his mind. but, like always, he ended up black and blue because he never got the fact that he was 80 pounds and the size of a tree branch through his thick skull.” Bucky said, sighing as Nat’s nails scratched at his scalp.
“is he really going to be okay?” Bucky asked, his eyes focusing on some of the light blue paint on the eggshell white ceiling of Nat’s apartment.
Nat nodded. “he’s going to be fine. he’ll pull through, he always has, hasn’t he?”
Bucky nodded. “yeah he has.” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat before he spoke again. “has he told you about the time when he died twice in one night?”
Nat shook her head, concerned. “no he hasn’t.”
Bucky chuckled quietly, his flesh forefinger tracing the plates of his metal hand. “he had tuberculosis. he’d had it a few times, but this time was by far the worst. he hadn’t been feeling well all day, and he was getting worse and worse as the day went on. Sarah helped as much as she could, but eventually she had to go to work, so it was just me and Stevie in the apartment.”
Nat helped Bucky sit up and wrapped a towel around his head, drying the freshly cleaned hair. Bucky continued talking while Natasha ran a wide toothed comb through his hair, trying to detangle it.
“it was around 3 when i noticed his breathing change. i monitored it for a little bit, but ended up falling asleep. about 20 minutes later, i woke up, and something didn’t feel right. i looked over at S-Stevie, and his lips were turning blue. i remember starting cpr immediately and screaming for him to wake up. i don’t know how long i did cpr for but eventually he came back, and was weak but okay. i was going to call his ma but he told me no, and to let her work, being the jerk that he was. i stayed in the bed with him, and around 4 it happened again. i’d broken a few of his ribs while doing cpr and i didn’t want them to puncture his lung, so i just started shaking him and slapping him. i pounded his chest, above his heart a few times as hard as i could, and eventually he came back. he was stronger, and his breathing was better and a little smoother, and i knew he’d be okay.
"i just..." Bucky said, looking down at his hand and sniffling. "i just remember holding him and not wanting to let go. i wanted to tell him then," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "th-that i-uhm..."
"that you loved him?" Natasha said, maneuvering his shoulder length hair into a braid.
"y-yeah," Bucky stuttered, tear burning his eyes. "i know we'll never be able to be open about it, or get married, but i just want him to know."
"well," Natasha said, tying the braid off with an elastic. "you may not be able to get married yet, but you're allowed to be open about it," Natasha said.
Bucky jerked his head to look behind him. "w-what?"
"gay marriage isn't legalized yet, but it's legal to be in a relationship with who ever you want, as long as you're both consenting adults." Natasha said as she climbed off of the stool behind him. "so, when he wakes up, you can tell him how you feel." she said, giving Bucky a warm smile.
before Bucky could respond, Sam walked through the front door of the apartment.
"he's awake," Sam said, a smile on his face as he looked at the other two. "he's still a little groggy, but he's going to be okay, and the doctor said we can go visit him."
a smile broke out on Bucky's face, and it grew bigger when Nat patted him on the shoulder to get him to stand up.
"we can take my car," Nat said, swiping her keys off of the counter top where she'd dropped them earlier. Sam made a rebuttal as Bucky walked over to the shoe rack and grabbed his combat boots. did he want to put them back on? no, but it wasn't like he had other options.
he slid the boots on, and followed Natasha and Sam out the door. the ride to the hospital was quiet. Sam and Nat discussed what they needed to do about Bucky, and Bucky kept quiet, trying to present as though he didn't care what happened to him, but on the inside, his stomach was churning violently.
what would happen to him? he asked himself. would the judicial system understand what he went through, and understand that he wasn't a bad person, that he was forced to do bad things? or would they see him as a violent criminal who could snap at any moment and send him back to a cell for the rest of his life?
bad thoughts like that continued to swirl in his brain as Natasha's car slowed to a stop in the hospital parking lot. his stomach started to do flipflops as he followed the couple through the hallways, attempting to find Steve's hospital room. would Steve hate him? he didn't seem to hate him on the riverbank, which must mean he didn't. Bucky really hoped that he didn't. he really hoped that the Steve he was about to see would be the same Steve that went through Project Rebirth, and then infiltrated a HYDRA base by himself just to save Bucky. he hoped to God, that nothing has changed his Steve.
they came to a stop in front of the door, and Sam and Nat looked at him expectantly.
"well?" Nat asked, with a smirk.
"well, what?" Bucky asked, confused, looking between the two people.
"are you going to go in and see your man?" she asked, and Bucky had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
"he's not my man." Bucky stated, and Sam snorted from where he was standing beside Nat.
"man, you spent the entire time Nat was washing your hair talking about Steve. you proclaimed you were in love with him, and basically admitted you want to marry him. how does that not make Steve 'your man?'" Sam said, and Bucky looked at him indignantly.
"me confessing my feelings doesn't mean he shares those same feelings," Bucky said, his eyes turning towards the closed hospital door. "as much as I wish he did."
"well, you're never going to know unless you ask him." Nat said. Bucky laughed.
"and ruin a friendship with my longest, and now only, friend? no. it's better to keep my feelings to myself. it'll hurt less eventually." Bucky resigned, and Sam chuckled next to him.
"conceal don't feel, don't let it show, right?" Sam said, and both him and Nat cracked up. Bucky looked between the two of them, feeling as if he'd missed something.
"...huh?" he said, and Nat had to bite her lip to stop from laughing.
"nothing. go see Steve." she said, pushing his shoulder. Bucky nodded slowly, confused, but turned to open the door. he stepped through, his eyes locked on the floor.
"go get 'em, Elsa!" he heard Sam shout through the doorway, and furrowed his brows again, confused on what Sam was talking about, but his face relaxed when he saw Steve, sitting up in bed, reading The Hobbit.
"S-Steve," Bucky said quietly. Steve looked over at him, and Bucky felt nauseous as his eyes lit up and his face broke out into a smile.
"hey, Buck. how are you feeling?" he said, placing the book down. Bucky gulped. he didn't know what to say. what could he say to Steve? the last time he was fully himself and spoke to Steve, it was 1945, and they talked about their trip to Coney Island, and how Steve threw up after Bucky made him go on the Cyclone.
the memory, while there, was extremely fuzzy, the only thing he could make out being the small, skinny, and pale face of his Stevie.
Stevie, the only man he'd ever loved. he loved him when he was small, and he loved him after he got the serum. as much as he loved the thought of him sitting in their apartment in New York waiting for him to come home like a dame would, it made him even happier (internally, on the outside he was still mad) to have Steve with him, fighting beside him. he loved him when he didn't know who he was. he loved him when he didn't know what was love was, because that had been successfully trained out of him. he loved him when he was sitting alone in his cell, confused about the pull he was feeling in his lower stomach. he loved Steven Grant Rogers, and the thought terrified him.
the thought that Steve wouldn't return his feelings. the thought that Steve would be like all those super 'macho' guys that they went to school with, who believed anyone who didn't fit their narrative of a normal person, would go to hell, which made no sense. how was Steve any different from him? yet, he still got made fun of because instead of playing with his blocks, or building a tower, he chose to line them up, or make a circle with them. Bucky felt himself start to spiral, and the only thoughts in his head were "Steve""i love you""don't hate me".
they repeated over and over again. taunting him, begging him to confess, to make a fool out of himself, even though he has distinct memories of the two of them finding a young, gay, couple being tormented by an older man, and despite all the energy Bucky was exerting while beating the literal shit out of this oversized bully, the most prominent image in his head is Steve throwing the first punch, and then Steve asking the couple if they were okay.
instead of rationalizing with himself, his focus shifted suddenly to the buzzing in his ears. the pain in his chest. the black spots in his vision. the last thing he saw before he squeezed his eyes shut was Steve standing up and grasping his shoulders.
"Buck-" he heard. "Buck wha-"
"you sho-" Bucky wheezed, trying to pull in air to stop this horrid pain in his chest. "you should be laying down."
Bucky didn't hear Steve's response, the buzzing turning to ringing, and drowning out any and all noises other than the high pitched ring.
he reopened his eyes when he felt something warm and soft pressed against his forehead. his breath hitched when he saw bright pink, plump lips inches away from his own. his eyes zeroed in on the movement that they were making, before realizing Steve was speaking to him.
the ringing dimmed slightly, and other sounds were finally allowed inside his mind, and he quickly realized that the sensation was Steve's forehead pressed against his own, and why Steve was doing it.
Bucky was having an attack, and Steve was trying to calm him down, just like he always did. a lump formed in his throat and tears welled in his eyes as he felt Steve wrap his arms around him as the pain in his chest retreated slightly, and it became easier to breathe. his breath hitched as he came out from the attack, and tried not to collapse into Steve's arm like he used to. Steve, thinking like a Captain (always one step ahead), strengthened his hold on Bucky, and walked them back towards the bed.
Steve sat down, and brushed a stray hair away from Bucky's face, Bucky focused his eyes on Steve and sniffled seeing the soft and loving look Steve was giving him.
"it's okay," Steve whispered. "it's okay, baby." he said, and Bucky felt himself crumple. Steve wasted no time in scooping him up into his lap, and letting him nuzzle his head into his neck and cry out his pain.
he cried. he cried and cried, feeling 70 years of anguish pour out from his body as he was finally allowed to have emotions and express them. his hands fisted in Steve's hospital gown, curling up as he felt the pleasant warmth radiating from the thin material.
a few minutes later, his tears finally stopped, and he was then fighting to keep his eyes open. it wasn't that he didn't want to look at Steve, it was that he was just so comfortable. he was warm, he felt content for the first time in years, and he felt as if he could fall asleep right there.
"Buck?" Steve asked again, startling the half asleep soldier on his lap. "can you look at me?" he asked, but Bucky shook his head with a childish whine. he tensed once he realized the noise he made, but was pleasantly surprised when nothing happened.
Steve moved past the whine as if it didn't happen. his left hand started to cradle the back of Bucky's head, and his right began rubbing up and down.
"okay," Steve said. "it's okay, you don't have to look at me, but I don't want you to feel ashamed for crying or any-" he said before Bucky cut him off.
"'m jus' comfy." Bucky said sleepily, and Steve chuckled. he felt his right hand leave his back, reaching to grab something before relaxing back.
"okay, bud." Steve said. Bucky sniffled, before he felt a straw poking at his mouth. Bucky cracked his eyes open and accepted the straw, sucking down the ice cold water. he sighed in relief after, and went to stand up as Steve set the water cup down, but was stopped as Steve wrapped both arms around him, and the two of them laid back against the hospital bed.
Bucky whimpered, and snuggled closer. Steve chuckled, and Bucky listened to it reverberate through his chest. "missed you," Bucky said, keeping his words short, feeling the emotions build again.
"i missed you too, Buck. every day." he said, his thumb swiping over Bucky's swollen upper cheek.
"i'm sorry," Bucky said, the guilt returning. "i'm sorry i hurt you, i didn't want to, i-"
"shhh, it's okay. i know you didn't mean to." he assured. "nothing that happened was your fault."
Bucky just nodded, unsure what to say to that. while he knew those words were true, it didn't feel like it. they felt fake, like an attempt at cheering him up. he knew they were the truth, so why couldn't he bring himself to believe them?
Bucky didn't know what to say after that, so he said nothing. he kept quiet, even when Nat and Sam came in. when Maria came in, and told them that Bucky could go with Steve, that her and someone named Fury would take care of getting him a pardon. with a name like Fury, Bucky certainly wasn't going to refuse the offer, not that he would anyways. going home with his Stevie, even though he didn't know where 'home' was, was certainly better than being alone in a cold dark cell.
he cuddled in closer to Steve, and listened to him discuss his living situation with Sam and Nat.
"my apartment's not safe," Steve said.
"it's just a window," Sam said, "we could get it fixed."
"no, it's not that, Sam." Nat said. "Bucky was there, the night Fury faked his death. if Bucky was there, then Rumlow and one of his other handlers was definitely there as well. it's not safe to send them back there, especially when we just brought down HYDRA and Shield."
"he had handlers?" Sam asked, and Bucky involuntarily shivered, thinking of Rumlow and Rollins.
"yeah," Nat said. "don't forget, i knew him when i was still in the Red Room. the handlers changed over time, but he always had 2 handlers with him. if you look at it from their perspective, it makes sense. even as the soldier, he didn't want to be there. they couldn't send him out on missions alone."
"yeah, makes sense." Sam said, with a sigh.
"where are we going to go then?" Steve asked, his hand still rubbing Bucky's back.
"i'll call Stark, see if that offer for a place in that fancy new compound still stands," Nat said, and he heard her stand up, and exit the room, likely to call Stark.
Stark...
that name sounded familiar to Bucky. he just didn't know why it felt so familiar. the thought remained on his mind until he drifted to sleep in Steve's arms, comforted by the sound of his steady, healthy heartbeat.
longing
december. night time. long winding road.
rusted
the roar of a machine underneath the asset. 'look down,' the voice says. it complies. leather seats. the roar. motorcycle.
seventeen
white car. wooden pole. security camera.
daybreak
the asset pulls up beside the car. punches through the window. the car veers off the road, and into the pole.
furnace
target one crawling on the gravel, blood dripping.
nine
'Sergeant Barnes?' the target says. a name. it's name? no time to ponder. target two is crying for target one.
two punches for target one. squeeze of a throat for target two.
benign
hand. gun. security camera. point, shoot.
homecoming
the camera is destroyed.
one
metal case with familiar blue liquid.
freight car
mission complete.
well done, soldat.
Bucky jolts awake. Stark. Howard Stark. he sits up. his head falls into his hands.
he killed Howard Stark.
'but,' he thinks. 'if Howard is dead, who is the Stark that they were talking about?'
his question answers itself when he opens his eyes, and sees and unfamiliar room. he looks beside him, and see's Steve sitting up to comfort him.
"w-" Bucky begins, but Steve finishes.
"we're at Tony's compound." he said.
Tony.
Howard's son.
"are we-" Bucky asked, and Steve nodded.
"we're safe, bud." Steve assured, pulling Bucky close to his chest. "we're safe."
Bucky forgets about the dream by the next time he wakes.
he wakes up before Steve this time, and he just stares. he's pretty. so, so pretty. he suddenly wishes that he had paper and a pencil, so he could draw Steve. he was no art prodigy like Steve, but being in art school when he was younger certainly left him with some drawing ability.
he lifted his flesh hand, and traced it tentatively over his jaw. over his chin, around his lips. a chuckle startled him, disturbing his quiet admiration.
"i can feel that, you know." Steve said, opening his eyes, a smile cracking on his lips.
Bucky gulped. he could back out now, ignore it, pretend he's sleeping.
but he doesn't want to.
he can love whoever he wants now. he can love Steve openly, and without fear of being caught. and that was exactly what he was going to do.
"you're just so pretty, Stevie." he whispered. "wish i had a pencil and paper so i could draw you."
Steve smiled up at him. "i could grab you one. i'm sure i have a spare one somewhere."
"nah," Bucky said, shaking his head. "wouldn't do your beauty justice."
a light red tinge appeared on Steve's cheeks, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Bucky's thumb had a mind of its own, and rubbed over Steve's plump, pink, bottom lip. his eyes flicked up to meet Steve's, and unlike when kissing a girl, he felt no nerves. no uncertainty.
he felt safe, loved, comfortable. he felt at home. tears rimmed his eyes as he looked at the man he loved. the man who was once smaller than him. the man who he wanted to marry. to have kids with, to spend the rest of his days with.
the man who had only ever made him feel safe. the man who risked everything to save him, more than once. the man he'd been dying to kiss since he knew what kissing, and love was. since he'd realized he'd only ever felt it for Steve.
"'m gonna kiss you now," he whispered, his head dipping slightly. "is that okay?" he asked, not wanting Steve to feel uncomfortable, despite the hardness pressing against his hip which proved that Steve was far from uncomfortable.
"yeah," Steve rasped. he swallowed, his heart rate speeding up. "yeah, that's okay."
their lips touched for the first time, and Bucky felt as if he'd been born again.
#natashasera#bucky barnes angst#stucky angst#stucky fanfiction#stucky fluff#stucky fandom#stevebucky#steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers x bucky barnes#stucky fanfic#bucky x steve#stucky#steve rogers rp#captain america#winter soldier#bucky#captain america the first avenger#captain america civil war#catws#sam wilson
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ok so hear me out.
this has been rattling around in my brain for a good couple of days, i had two all-day art exams so i was just sat silently alone with my own brainrot for ten hours and honestly it paid off
so this is my idea for the magnus scrotocol protocol and what it could be about, but honestly if it ends up being way off i might actually write it - because of all the alternate universe shit it could easily be canon Somewhere Else. also i know alex and jonny said that it’s inspired by the video game control, but i know absolutely nothing about that game so please take this with a grain of salt, it probably won’t be canon but a guy can dream!!
so, it takes place on another earth, parallel to the main tma universe, where things are pretty much the same as real life. and while it’s obviously not a world without fear, the entities don’t exist there. well, until they do.
so when jon and martin do That One Thing and the fears are let out into the multiverse, the sheer energy they cause as they enter the outskirts of this world sends technology CRAZY. and everything, at exactly the same moment on every electronic device in the world, is just chaos, a mangled mixture of nonsensical noises and static (and maybe you hear a little “statement remains” here and there, not sure what the mechanics of that would be in terms of jon’s official status, but hey it would be fun and it would make “Oh…Hello” make sense). and everywhere around the world, people are just… watching. listening. frozen with the most complete and all-consuming feeling of terror they have ever experienced. and of course it ends, and no one wants to admit that it was real, but after around twenty minutes of society just grinding to a halt, everyone feeling the same thing at the same time EVERYWHERE, it’s a terrifying global phenomenon. the world is afraid.
and so The Experts (whoever would be assigned to deal with whatever this is) start doing their research, and they manage to “decode” it (which makes the ARG and stuff like MAG - Error even more meta and fun) and it’s straight up just mag 200.
and they say that it’s clear it was recorded via tape, and they don’t know how it made its way onto electronic devices like this because it’s A TAPE, it shouldn’t give off any kind of signal you would be able to broadcast, and nothing should be able to be broadcast on that scale in the first place. but that’s not the worst thing. the worst thing is that one of the voices in this mysterious message is that of uk prime minister elias bouchard.
and no, i don’t mean jonah magnus, i mean the ORIGINAL Elias Bouchard. i mean it makes sense - he was a white man born into a rich and privileged family, and despite his uselessness, no one batted an eyelid when he became head of the institute. so yeah, it doesn’t seem too out there to think that in an alternate universe, he became the tory prime minister. (hence “there will be some returning voices” - i think it would be so fun to finally hear ben play the real elias, and such a different role and experience despite being in a similar position of power in the context of the story)
so the series begins in a meeting of all the Important Brits who need to deal with this issue, maybe with our civil servant protagonist(s?) in the background serving tea or something like that. we hear basira say her “good luck” before the tape clicks off, and we’re finally introduced to the people she ended up unknowingly saying it to.
and i haven’t actually figured out plot details, it’s just my idea for the basic premise, and i do think it’s unlikely because of the rest of the plot. like, in my opinion it wouldn’t be that interesting having the characters try to figure out where the tape comes from, and what the events of mag 200 mean and how it happened and why it happened… because we already know that, and alex and jonny specifically said they weren’t going to spend time pretending like we didn’t know information that we already know from magnus. but at the same time, they said they want to “play around with the lore”, so a post-apocalypse show set in the original tma universe definitely seems off the cards and this is the most interesting Somewhere-Else-civil-servants idea i could think of.
but yeah, just my idea! again not sure what would happen in the rest of the series, but it would be really cool as a starting point. and maybe you could even have jon and martin existing as like,,, ghosts in the machine, communicating through technology and helping the main characters navigate a world with the fears in it. which would definitely explain the actual canonicity behind “Oh… Hello” and this idea of mag 200 being broadcast to the masses as the fears come through.
please do reblog or send me an ask and tell me what you think and your own ideas, i personally would lose my shit if something like this were to happen and i think it sounds really cool.
also im gonna tag @jonnywaistcoat because i would love to see what he thinks of this idea and any crumbs of either confirmation or denial he might give us (but also if he does see it i will lose my mind and probably spontaneously combust so there’s that)
#the magnus archives#the magnus archives podcast#tma#the magnus archives 2#the magnus archives two#tma2#the magnus protocol#the magnus scrotocol#mag 200#elias bouchard#jonny sims#alexander j newall#rusty quill#rusty quill podcast#ben meredith#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#martin k blackwood#somewhere else#jmart#jonmartin#teaholding#statement remains#are you still listening?#this is pretty dumb and incoherent reading it back lol i hope people can actually understand what i’m trying to say#also#tmagp#apparently that’s the tag and i’m not opposed to it
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