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fangswbenefits · 1 year

Text

Tiny Spider

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Your daughter has a few questions, and you suspect Miguel might just open a portal to another dimension.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

FLUFF. No warnings. Just ‘how are babies made’ and 'where do babies come from’ with Miguel and his daughter :)

"I can sense you, tiny spider."

Your eyes darted upwards only to find your daughter of six dangling from the celining by a single thread, wobbling slightly from side to side.

She stuck out her tongue, visibly distraught that she got caught.

"It's time to eat something. Come down now," you urged, pointing to the empty seat at the table.

As stubborn as her father, she wasn't easily convinced and merely dropped a little lower until she eye-leveled with both of you.

"I think Mayday is a terrible influence," you said. "Don't you think, Miguel?"

He was giving her the glare, but it wasn't enough. "No webs at the table."

"But, papá—”

Miguel remained unmoved. She wouldn't win this battle, but he wouldn't either unless you interveened.

"Eat your breakfast," you told her once again, sipping your herbal tea.

She was getting the hang of physics and motion, but it would take her a while to do so effortlessly and gracefully.

Swinging lightly, she managed to flip her feet down and land on the chair nearby.

Now the three of you could finally enjoy breakfast peacefully.

"Where did I come from?"

Miguel instantly frozen and you nearly dropped your cup of tea.

You offered her an understanding look, unsure of how to approach the topic. It's a topic that is bound to be brought up sooner or later, but one that both you and Miguel would rather have to touch later rather than sooner.

"What do you think?" you asked, exchanging a glance with Miguel who looked like he was one second away from imploding.

"Uncle Hobie said a big spider brought me here," she said excitedly. "That mamá and papá wanted me, so a big, big spider came here!," she gesticulated enthusiastically, arms up in the air to emphasise the proportions of said creature.

Miguel grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uncle Hobie... of course."

"Well..."

Her eyes darted from you to Miguel, waiting for confirmation.

You went first. "That's not what happened. Uncle Hobie isn't to be trusted with stuff like this, little spider."

"Or trusted at all," you heard Miguel mumble more to himself.

The thing with children is that they tend to be very expressive and transparent, so the moment you watched her smile drop, you knew something was wrong.

"You... didn't want me?" she whispered, bottom lip quivering into a pout.

"No! I mean - we did!" Miguel promptly rectified. "No big spider brought you here..." his eyes met yours seeking reassurance. "We did."

"That's it?" she asked, resring her elbows on the table and placing her jaw on both palms of her hands.

She looked... unimpressed.

Miguel nodded, chopping an apple into slices with one of his talons so she could have a bite.

"Pffff," she groaned. "Boring!"

Miguel O'hara wasn't one to be left speechless very often, so you figured this had definitely caught him off guard.

"Sometimes the truth can be boring," you said with a chuckle. "But we both really wanted you and that's what matters."

Your daughter didn't seem to care much about that and, in that moment, the flash of defiance and arms crossed in front of her chest reminded you of Miguel.

"So how did you bring me here?"

"Huh..."

Miguel glanced out the window as he cleared his throat.

Did he expect you to tackle this by yourself? He should have known better.

"Your father will be more than glad to explain," you said, leaning back in your seat, earning a death glare from him.

She was growing impatient by the second, eyes fixed on him as if awaiting a bedtime story.

"Go on, Miguel," you teased with a devious smile.

"Tell me, papá!" she suddenly banged both hands on the table. "I want to know!"

Miguel frowned. Deeply. If looks could kill, you reckoned you'd be six feet under by now.

But he wasn't getting off the hook easily.

"When two people like each other very much... that can happen," he said, not bothering with details.

"But how? How?" she was bouncing in her seat at this point.

You gave him an encouraging smile.

He sighed in defeat. "Hmm... I placed a tiny seed inside your mother one day," his voice was gentle and he seemed more confident now. "You grew and grew and, many months later, you were here with us."

It was an easy enough explanation.

But...

"Inside mama?"

"Yes. Like an egg," he said warmly, wrapping his large hand around her tiny one.

"A chicken egg?" she gasped, turning to you and you immediately noticed a front tooth missing already. Kids. "But... I'm not a chicken."

Her genuine innocence was so endearing that you couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Miguel..."

"Maybe I should have said spider egg?"

"Woah! Now that's cool!" she beamed and her eyes widened like a kid who had just been told they could have unlimited supply of candy. "So I'm really a spider!"

"A tiny spider, yes," he said with a faint smile.

Warmth filled your insides at once. Miguel was always meant to be a father. He was just a natural when it came to children.

He suddenly shot a single string of red web to land on the chair where your daughter sat, sliding it closer to him. She burst into laughter from the motion before putting on a forced serious face.

"No webs at the table!" she tried to mimic his tone, her index finger in front of her face.

He planted a soft kiss on it before bringing her into a tight embrance.

"No more hanging around Uncle Hobie unsupervised," he whispered into her ear.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n

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p0ssym1lker · 1 year

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Some civilians were kidnapped by Mr. Freeze and the bats were trying to figure out how to get them out

Suddenly one of the hostages spoke up

"Dude! Your wife is is just ectocontaminated, easy fix."

Mr. Freeze turns to the girl who looks at him like he's stupid

"Don't look so surprised, I'm contaminated myself but your wife just doesn't have the right stuff to cleanse it. There's a charm on my bag and if you put it on her - clothes not skin - she'll start cleansing... No, no the pink bag, yes, don't fucking rip it off you hooligan"

Mr. Freeze was still mistrustful but every chance is important so the hostage was brought to him

"If you lie-"

"What would I get out of it? Now take of the chunky ghost necklace and put it on her as well to speed it up."

...he did so

The bats were watching with bated breath as Mr freeze took it off and flinched

"Yeah feels kinda weird to normal ppl but trust, it feels great when you got some ecto in ya. If you really wanna speed it up I can fall in a favor but I will need a sheet of paper and a pencil for that."

After watching his wife's vitals change for the better, Mr freeze immediately got them for her. She then started painting a weird circle and chanting in a language no one understood.

Then a white haired guy in a hazmat suit appeared.

"Yo phantom, can ya help out his wife... On the condition he let's all the hostages go and..."

The hostages were freed pretty much immediately and nightwing decided to charade to them it was supposed to say "he stays peaceful" but it was not easy to understand

"...yeah well...help his wife" she ended up saying, much to nightwings dismay

"So while he does his thing, your wifes vitals might change and your gonna think it's worse but they work with the ecto, you can check mine, we should get similar ones, you can keep my cleanse stuff, she should keep one around at all times and-"

The...hostage? Helper?... The girl rambled on while Mr. Freeze checked her vitals

"Yeah no, blood isn't gonna show up differently, I don't think this universe has the stuff to see it yet"

Wait what-

#mr freeze #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc #dc robin #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #oc? maybe #but idk #cryptid amity park #could be star #who knows #i dont

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sorcerous-caress · 7 months

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Okay as great as crybaby!tav is we really glossed over the potential of mommy!Tav. I may be a smidge bias because that’s a lot like my tav, as she’s so damn determined to take care of her friends and was a baker before she was an adventurer so she’s constantly just doting on the companions offering them pastries. It’s a little self indulgent but My Tav has a little quirk that she grew up food insecure and just absolutely refuses to eat until she knows everyone else has eaten because she can’t bear the thought of any of her friends potentially going hungry. She’s normally very submissive and sweetly to all of them but no amount of begging, discipline or concern will break her because she just cares so damn much. Could you write the dom mom squad™️ reacting too something like that, who tries to comfort them? Who is incensed that she doesn’t believe they can provide? Who gets so hung up on the fact she’s being stubborn they forget the original issue?

A submissive mommy who can cook and give good hugs will literally fix 90% of the gang here, unironiclly.

Reacting to a very motherly Reader

[Bg3 women, fluff, dom mommies, afab!reader, fem pronouns, sub!reader ]

Karlach would relish in your dotting.

During her life in the hells, she was both touch starved and food starved for so long. You being there to encourage her with the pep talks, headpats, and occasional pie is everything she has ever dreamed of and more.

As much as she wants to be the one to take care of you, she can't help but let relish in you fussing over her. The coddling, the comfort, and the constant attention are slowly frying her brain from how happy she is.

Did she die and go to heaven?

She becomes very protective of you, never lets you carry heavy stuff, and always asks if you need her to bring you ingredients or something during her errand runs. No, no, you don't have to tire your pretty little legs. Just stay in camp all sweet and pretty while she goes out and brings you everything you need.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she's subconsciously treating you like her stay at home wife.

She really likes hovering around while you cook, watching you work attentively and sometimes begging for a sample taste with her puppy eyes.

And yes you being the one feeding her those samples is very important, it enhances the taste a lot.

It might take her a while to notice the fact that you were always the last one to eat. Or how you immediately offered your plate if someone else wanted seconds.

She thinks it's very sweet at first but slowly grows more and more concerned at your well-being.

I mean, if she had to, she would sit on your lap to prevent you from getting up as she hands you a plate of food. Your stern talk will just make her feel guilty and sad but she'd refuse to let you get up.

As much as she loves nothing more than to obey her mommy, sometimes she also needs to take care of her mommy like she takes care of her.

Minthara would admire your ways.

Tenderness and love were never words that anyone in her culture used to describe a mother, an ilhar. No, they tend to fall more on the brutal and disciplinary side.

An ilhar meant authority, control, and order. To defy her is to commit a sin. To show weakness in front of her is even worse.

She is reminded by that cultural difference whenever someone describes you as motherly.

The only thing you had in common with the matrons of the underdark was that underlying strength. That unbreakable will hidden so deep inside you, the urge to survive at any cost and defend your subordinates. She admired it greatly.

You were very strong deep down, strong to be truly worthy of the description of motherly. That kind of strength that the males will never understand, the kind of strength that nurtured even more strength.

So when a person like you showered her in hugs, kisses, and even brushed and styled her hair for her from time to time, how could she ever be ungrateful and say no?

You were generous and kind even when you had no need to be, you were selfless to a concerning degree.

She had to put a stop to that.

Minthara respects you too much to use any of the punishments or disciplinary ways that her matrons taught her. She will talk to you like an equal because that's what she sees you as.

She will be very patient with you. Stopping you when your self sacrifices become too much for your health to bear, Reminding you that you also require as much food and rest as the rest of them.

She'll teach you to relay on her slowly, as gentle as she possibly can be. Which...isn't very gentle, honestly, but she is genuinely trying her best.

Jaheira feels like you complete her.

As an actual mother to so many children, Jaheira still never truly grasped the whole motherly vibe people keep preaching about. Her kids are safe, fed, cleaned, and trained in combat. Isn't that enough?

So what it if she was absent on missions a lot, need I remind you that her line of work concers the safety of the whole world? What kind of mother would she be if she let the whole world, which included her kids, end just because she picked to stay at home and colour with her youngest.

She knows it doesn't excuse it. Give her a break. She is at the end of her age and hasn't had someone by her side since in a long while.

That's why when you suddenly appear in her life with all of the qualities she was severely lacking in, she almost thinks it's too good to be true.

...you almost remind her of a certain someone she lost long ago. You're just as soft and caring to others. Ironically enough people also underestimate a lot because of your kindness too.

She is drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Jaheira can't help it. You shine with radiance, and she hasn't felt warmth in so long.

The first few days she brings her kids home-cooked meals, they immediately hold a knife to her throat as they demand this doppelganger tell them where their real mother is.

But after some very awkward conversations, and having to bring you into her house as actual proof. They realised that their mother's stone heart can still beat after all apparently.

Shadowheart tries to play it cool, fails.

She has an edgy mysterious aura she needs to keep, and you're making it very hard for her. How is she supposed to be this dark, cool cleric of Shar when you keep gifting her these hand-knitted pastel sweaters with the most loving look in your eyes.

Of course she will wear them, she isn't heartless.

She's really trying not to show how touched she is when you look for her during dinner at camp to make sure she got her plate. She can't help the blush on her ears when you wipe some food from the corner of her mouth.

She's mean to people on your behalf when they're rude to you or try to take advantage of your submissiveness. Actually she is just mean to people in general if she doesn't like the way they look at you.

Loves taking naps on your lap, absolutely adores when you play with her hair or braid it. Your thighs are the perfect pillows for her to rest her head on and just forget about the outside world and her mission for a while.

She saves the best wine she finds to share it with you later, or the best sweets or fancy jucies if you don't drink. She had to defend her stash from both Gale and Wyll wandering hands, absolutely refusing all of their offers or begging for some of that fancy cheese or that perfectly aged wine bottle.

You're the only person she ever shares it with. She doesn't even want anything in return. She just loves seeing you happy and relaxed every once in a while. You always take care of them, so it's about time that someone takes care of you too.

Laezel has killed people for disrespecting you.

And she'll do it fucking again. These worms forgot their place. She doesn't even care how little their offence is, just efficiently ending their miserable life.

Why do you have a look of disappointment on your face? She did them a favour. She even made it painless and quick to compromise for your feelings.

Chk. Your softness will be the end of you. Be grateful that she is here to prevent that from ever happening.

You threaten not to take her with you on errand runs anymore if she doesn't put her sword away? You really think you can survive without her?

...okay yeah actually you can. You make a really valid point.

If it was anyone else she'd have taken that request as an insult on her honor, but since it's you...

Fine. She will listen for now.

And maybe if you keep making more of those faerun dishes, she will find it easier to listen to you. Especially the apple pie ones.

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luveline · 2 years

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sharing idea time! Eddie being the lovable menace likes to tease or "be a meanie" as reader would say to Roan, so one day he's being playful and Roan decides to "defend" reader by "standing up" to her dad. like on the couch to try making eye contact and lecture him with such a glare he's worried her face will get stuck.

omg yes nothing so romantic as some light bullying (I say this genuinely) fem!reader

Eddie does this thing with his hands that is completely, unmitigatedly cruel. He might take your hand, and you settle into his side expecting to be loved on. When he's in an especially good mood he pulls your arm to his chest and runs the tips of his fingers over your bare skin slowly. It's a sweet tickling sensation that could lull you to sleep.

When he's in a better mood than that, he gets mean. He teases with the callused hands of both a mechanic and a guitarist, built for precision and brute force. His hand follows down to your palm and he holds your hand in his in a simple gesture, and then he gathers your fingers and squeezes until all your bones ache.

It always makes you laugh, a panicked braying as you try to pull your hand back and fend off his horrible attack. Eddie only grows more eager, rolling your fingers together until you gasp and beg to be let go of.

This time, he's done not only a number on your hand but your thigh. You're too sensitive for his pinching, and he gets right in there and squeezes until you can't breathe.

"Eddie," you squeal, totally dissolved, limp and gasping and flat on your back across the couch. "Please stop."

He tickles up the inside of your thigh but doesn't do any further damage. "You're laughing, aren't you? I think you like it more than you admit."

"Laughing isn't the word I'd use."

He grabs at your doughy thigh until you're pleasing for mercy and says, "No? You wouldn't? What word would you use, baby?"

His voice raises in volume with each new question as to be heard over your keening.

"Eddie, please, would you-"

"Stop!" Roan cries, climbing up onto the couch with impressive speed and dexterity.

You raise your chest and legs as she lands straight into the pouch of your stomach with an "Oof!" that whipes you out completely. Roan defends your limp state with two hands outstretched and a darling, dramatic scowl.

"Stay away, dad!"

His turn to frown. "That's daddy to you, short stuff. What's your damage?"

"You are my damage!" she shouts. It's hilarious and lovely in her baby voice and clumsy pronunciation.

You giggle under her weight and smile so wide it infects him. He catches Roan's furious gaze and it swiftly falls away.

"Baby, what's wrong? We're just playing."

"You're being the meanie!"

"A meanie," you correct mildly, hands coming to rest on Roan's hips.

"A meanie," she says crossly.

Eddie can't understand how he got here, why her favouritism tips so strongly to your side. You giggle again, to yourself more than either of them, and he remembers. The sound is pretty as your lackadaisical grin, your face tipped to the side to see him from around Roan's commanding pose.

"I'm sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry, "I'm not trying to be mean. It's just to make her laugh, Roan. Don't you like laughing?"

Roan looks him straight in his face, real upset between her pinched brows. How many times has he seen that expression on his own face? A furious kind of injustice.

"You have to be nice!" Roan declares.

"I am nice."

"No, you're mean. You squish too hard."

He supposes that's true.

Eddie dips his chin toward his chest and pouts at her apologetically. "I'm sorry..." He holds out his hand, hoping to hold her small palm against his own. She gives it to him with enough reluctance to break a dad's heart.

"You're mean."

"I'm only playing," he stresses.

He rubs the back of her hand and lays it down thickly. Affection has always worked against her moods, ever since she was a baby. Half the time she'd cried and Eddie could fix it with a hug and a kiss.

"You have to play nicer," she chides gently, sounding a lot like he does when he has to explain things to her. It's so close and so genuine he finds himself wanting to kiss every bit of soft skin on her face.

"I will, I promise. No more squeezing. Alright? Does that make you feel better?"

"Not me, Y/N!" she says.

"Oh." Eddie manoeuvres his daughter so she's in his lap and then pulls you up by your hand, bringing it to his lips in a princess kiss. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I won't be doing anymore squeezing."

You grin at him. "Damn straight you won't. Or you can answer to my lovely protector. Isn't that right, Roan?"

Roan has melted into her dad's arm like butter in the sun, but she has enough wits about her to say, "Right!"

Eddie kisses the top of her head, careful not to crush her freshly washed curls. He can't find it in himself to be mad that his girls have ganged up on him now. He likes having you both be on the same team. He only wants to be on that team with you.

"I'm sorry," he tries again pathetically, dropping his cheek into the couch cushion to look pitiful.

You do take pity on him, dropping your own cheek close enough to meet his eyes. "That's okay, handsome. You're forgiven."

He tries not to make it too obvious that he's looking down at Roan.

You bite with a pleased little smile. "Roan, would you forgive daddy? He's sorry."

She pats Eddie's thigh. "Okay."

Her forgiveness isn't grand, but it does feel good. Good enough to celebrate.

"Thank you, baby..." He toys with a ringlet of hair behind her ear until she shivers. "How about we go out for dinner, huh? The three of us."

"Where?" you ask.

"For cake?" Roan asks.

"I'm sure they'll have cake," he assures her.

You both seem remarkably, impossibly lively after that, a stark contrast to your sleepy states. He can't believe how quickly you abandon him, or how quickly you pull on your shoes.

more eddie and roan

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #dad!eddie munson

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tarjapearce · 8 months

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soccer family wife meeting Miguel’s family for the first time?

👀 Miguel has a potty mouth.

(This is before meeting her family btw)

"So... when you're gonna introduce your girl?"

"A Pitufina?"

Gabriel didn't hold back the ugly snort at the nickname

"God, that's such a terrible pet name."

Gabriel poured the coffee for the both as Miguel prepared breakfast. A bit of Huevos rancheros and fried red beans to pair it with.

"She might come later, she's been busy."

"Right."

Gabriel put two of sugar to his mug as he handed Miguel his. The proceeded to heat up some day old tortillas.

"You're gonna tell mom about her?"

"No."

Miguel's voice monotone, but firm. Gabriel sighed and slanted over the counter, eyes on the tortillas as he crossed his arms in his chest.

"Look, I don't wanna be that guy, but... don't you think it's been years?"

"Yeah. Keep them coming."

"Just do it out of politeness. She'll find out one way or another And you know how mom gets."

He flipped the tortilla and Miguel served.

"I couldn't care less what she thinks. Pásame el chile. Besides that's precisely why I don't want them to meet." (Hand me the chili sauce)

"I just wanna know why you won't talk to her about this. Like... You've gotten a girlfriend!"

"Por Dios, you're so annoying at times. Get over it. Yeah, I'm dating. So?"

"I was worried, Miggy." Gabriel gave a dramatic sigh as he put the other tortilla to heat up, "Thought you'd end up as a true hermit living off caffeine and stress. "

"Cabrón"

"Tú el doble." (You're it double)

"En fín. Cállate y come." (Anyways, shut up and eat)

"I'm just happy for you. I... I know you don't believe me when I say stuff like this. But Im glad that... Pitufina or however bizarre pet name you wanna call her, is with you."

Gabriel sipped his coffee and sighed.

"You've been less of an asshole lately. You have fun even, so I'm glad. Happy you can finally get some peace with yourself and she seems a good woman too. So... Congrats. "

"Thanks."

"What if she asks to met mom?

Miguel shook his head.

"Doubt it. Mom is troublesome. Nothing is fucking good enough for her. Just like Pitufina's mother."

"Kinda understand why you got together now"

Miguel snapped his head towards him with a glare.

"Ya no te cuento ni vergas." (I'm telling you shit.)

"Okay, okay, terrible joke. Sorry. Just... How bad is it?"

"Bad. Strangers practically. Won't expose her to meet mom and throw at her face her own troubles. Mi niña has had enough as it is."

Gabriel's eyes widened upon his older brother's words.

"I think I might get used to this sappy version of you."

"Make fun all you want but even I know there are limits when it comes to being a dick. So don't mention this to mom." Miguel's eyes fixed him with a staid face as he waved his index finger as a warning to him, "And I mean it, Gabri. Don't want her to also ruin this for me."

"I won't, relax. Is not like we're really close or something."

------

Your knuckles held the wheel tighter as you approached Miguel's apartment. He wanted to introduce you to his family.

So you put yourself in an outfit appropriate for the occasion. A little blazer with a tank top underneath, some jeans and matching low platform espadrilles.

Miguel rarely to never mentioned his family to you, and the sparse times he did, only mentioned his brother.

You had seen Gabriel a couple of times but never interacted with him beyond a couple of words or pleasantries if the situation demanded for it.

You parked and let Miguel know that you were outside. He lived in the second floor of an apartment complex.

He came out after a couple of minutes dressed in his stay at home clothes. A stark contrast on your outfit. You bear hugged him and he kissed your temple.

"Uh... why are you wearing that?"

"What?

You gestured

"I feel so overdressed now"

"You're fine. You're meeting Gabriel."

His arm wrapped around your waist as you made your way towards his apartment.

"Just him?"

"You sound disappointed"

Shaking your head with a smile as you climbed up the stairs. He chuckled.

"I'm not. I was nervous at the thought of meeting your parents but... knowing it's only Gabriel is less nerve wrecking."

He sighed and stopped you as his apartment came in view.

"Long story short, I don't get along either with my mom and the sperm donnor is out of the picture. Gabriel is the only constant one in my life. "

You kissed his cheek and held his hand tightly as you held a little gift on the other one.

"Thanks for telling me. I was thinking in escaping while you distracted them. But glad it won't be necessary. "

He chuckled at your attempt of lightening the mood. His keys tinkered as they turned and opened the door.

"Gabriel?"

The younger O'Hara looked up from his seat in the living room with a smile, turning the tv off

"Hey" He stood and approached you both. You gave him the little bottle of a collectible mezcal bottles.

"Miguel told me you liked this brand."

"You didn't have to, but highly appreciated." The nickname kind of made sense for Gabriel now that he saw you next to Miguel.

You introduced himself as you shook Gabriel's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, thanks for tolerating my brother enough to date him."

You snorted as Miguel glared holes his way.

"He's not bad. Except when he runs out of coffee"

One of your arms wrapped around Miguel's waist as he held and entwined your fingers with his on the other.

"Ah you tell me. I'm the one that's sent to the store to replenish. Older brother privilege and stuff."

You couldn't help but giggle.

"Didn't know you bullied your brother like that."

"Can't believe you're in his side."

"Hey, I'm the youngest too. Totally relate on that"

"Anyways, a pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Gabriel.."

"Don't wanna sound rude but I gotta go meet a client. See you guys later."

"Ve con cuidado." (Careful out there)

"Have a nice day, Gabriel."

"You both too."

Gabriel retreated to his room to then leave the apartment with his laptop.

"You can breath now, Pitufina"

"Stop calling me that? Please?"

He shook his head and kissed you.

"Then it wouldn't be fun to do that"

"Ya pues. Dame otro." He kissed you again with a smile and you giggled. (Enough. Gimme another one)

"Wanna watch a movie or you want me to cook for you?"

"Both? Please?"

"Sure"

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#Pre Soccer Family #t writes✨

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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What if König finding out Mrs.König is a writer? But like, a smut one? Don't know if you did this already, but i think he would be very curious about what she'd write, and he would even read some of them, to understand what is going on her little head, maybe?😊

He is very invested in your hobbies, as long as they won't include going outside and interacting with tons of people without his immediate presence. If you are more of a homebody, writing in the comfort of your home, he will make your coffee(we love our caring king, it's one of the only things he can make without clowning you for taking too much sugar or other condiments or needing a cute little cup) and sit with you while you do your research or write. If you're actually publishing your books and have quite some money from it, he would be a bit more concerned - not because he is jealous or insecure about his woman getting her own money(partially yes, but still), but because he is worried you might overwork yourself. When he actually reads the stuff you write...yeah, our boy is jealous. If you write stories about military men, soldiers, generals, and all of this stuff, he will make it his lifetime goal to nitpick at every little mistake you have in the books, making you learn all the right names for different branches of the military, fix every problem you have with different ranks, making sure you know everything before writing it!! If you don't write about handsome military man and their wives...he will make you, lmao. This guy is a secret nerd who is well-versed in fantasy and science fiction, he loves the classics and cheap smut books about great space warriors and their alien girlfriends. He will be very picky about every inch of unrealism in your books, slowly suggesting that you would just try for yourself if the sex positions you write are actually possible in real life...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig

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fernandoswarcrimes · 8 months

Text

You’re Losing Me x Carlos Sainz

“Stop.. you’re losing me..”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan

Word count: 3.3k

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

You say, "I don't understand" and I say, "I know you don't"

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

“I don’t understand what the problem is.” Carlos sighed, rubbing at his face in frustration. You’d been at each other’s throats for forty five minutes now, and over something so trivial. What had begun as him (forgetting to do the dishes? Change the laundry?) had spiraled into an outright argument over him not helping around the house, to him being out so late all the time now. “I know you don’t.” You had muttered, shaking your head with a sigh of your own.

“I can’t do this right now, I told Lando I’d meet him for dinner.” Carlos spoke, his curt reply signaling he was done with the argument, with the entire conversation. He grabbed his keys and walked out of the kitchen without another word as you stood there watching him go.

This is how things always went as of late—at least, that’s what it feels like. It’s always just another small bump in the road, one that you would get over. Always something that wouldn’t stop you from being happy again. Now, though, it seemed like nothing was going to fix things between the two of you. Small bumps are fine until you look back and realize there’s so many, the road is no longer driveable.

As you shut the kitchen light off and walk into the living room, you pause. It was one of yours and Carlos’s favorite rooms in the house because of how the light shone through the windows, illuminating the room in a soft glow when the sun set. Dusk was setting in now as you took a seat on the couch, the room falling into darkness as you sat there by yourself wondering if it was finally time to end it or not.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow

It wasn’t even the big things that made you wonder. No, it was the stupid stuff. The small things you wished so badly you could convince yourself to put up with. You knew what the two of you had was special, could feel it in your very being, but it was beginning to not be love anymore. It was tiring, you were tired. Your mother always told you that you reminded her of a phoenix, always picking yourself up and mending your own wounds, never letting anyone help you because you could do it yourself. Times like these, you wish she was wrong.

You didn’t know why Carlos would rather sneak around and lie than just be honest with you. Maybe it was a pride thing. Charles, bless him, had been the one to accidently fill you in on what Carlos has been doing behind your back. He didn’t even mean to, but when he asked if you were at the club with Carlos last week because he thought he’d seen you with his teammate, it was the final blow. You weren’t at the club. You had been at home. You had been waiting on him because he told you he was stopping by his parents house. He had told you not to wait up for him. It started making you wonder what else he’s been lying about and how long he’s gotten away with it.

Every mornin' I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

It was five am when Carlos’s alarm went off, making you roll over and glare at him as he slept. Lately, it’s like you aren't even in a relationship anymore. You sighed as you got up, moving to the kitchen and knowing he’d get up in a minute to get ready for his morning run.

As you cooked yourself something to eat you heard him moving around in your room. The footsteps you’d once longed for around the house had become ghostly, the antithesis of what it once was. You dread the sound of them approaching.

It wasn’t like this came out of nowhere, you had sent him signals and tried talking to him to let him know that things between you needed fixing or changing but, he always brushed them off, brushed you off. You were starting to turn into a shell of yourself the longer you stayed in this relationship and dealt with everything alone.

“Love you.” He mumbled, nothing more than a force of habit, grabbing a water bottle and leaving. He knew that things weren’t okay. You knew he knew, and he knew you knew he knew, and on and on and on until the end of time. It didn’t matter what you both knew, though, because he wasn’t ready to admit that out loud that the love you two had was long gone now. The both of you were just going through the motions and with how shitty the season was going he wasn’t ready to lose the one semi good thing he had left going for him.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're running down the hallway

And you know what they all say

"You don't know what you got until it's gone"

The house was heavy sad and you were running out of options. The confusion and grief that came along with the thought of having to leave the man you loved for the last seven years was hard. Harder than hard. Some kind of word that hasn’t been invented yet, hard. You know that your pain and problems weren't easy to deal with, but hell—he isn’t exactly Mr. Emotionally Intelligent, either. It just made you feel guilty that you were feeling this way and maybe that was the reason Carlos was pulling away.

So you did what any normal person would do, you called your mom and asked if you could come stay for the weekend. You needed to get away for a while, clear your head and figure out what you needed to do for yourself and there was no better place to do that than home. You packed a weekend bag and left after Carlos headed to Baku. The time you spent with your mother was eye opening. She had given you advice that you oh so badly needed to hear.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you this way?” she asked you, nudged a cup of tea an inch closer to you. “This is not the way someone who loves you should treat you.”

She was right, it wasn't how you were supposed to be treated. So it was no surprise to hear from Carlos when he got back and noticed you were gone, you’d left him a note on the fridge but apparently that wasn’t good enough. He didn’t realize all the things you usually did for him until you weren’t there to do them. Like help with laundry, cooking dinner and cleaning. Of course his mother raised him right but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t a guy who got comfortable with how things were.

My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)

You didn’t go to a lot of races, had your own career and your own life that was more than the title of girlfriend, but Barcelona was one you always attended. Things hadn’t gotten any better, but you still wanted to be there to support him—even if you knew it was going to be the last time. You stood next to Blanca, listened to her gush about her upcoming wedding, about the flowers and the dress and the table runners. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you’d have to miss it.

“Have you two got your outfits together yet? I know my brother can be pretty forgetful sometimes” Blanca asked, looking over at you with a happy smile. You did your best to give her a smile back, Carlos hadn’t mentioned it, but you didn’t want to burst her bubble. “I’ll remind him tonight, I’m sure you’re going to look absolutely beautiful.” You meant that, even if you aren’t going to be there to see her in person.

As Carlos pulled the car back into the garage after the race it was almost routine, he’d get out, take his helmet and stuff off before walking over and giving you a hug. You hang on a beat longer than normal, soak it all up—his hair and his smell and his skin and his arms. “I’m going to go grab my things,” you mumbled, motioning him to his waiting family before moving off to go grab your things. You didn’t plan on standing around for any longer than necessary. Each passing moment is nothing more than another opportunity for your heart to break.

How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

Your relationship, if it can still be called that, seems to long outlive its expiration. You don’t know how much longer it can go on like this, all the uncertainty. It felt like nothing but a sad song stuck on repeat, something that you couldn’t come back from. There had been times where the both of you got this way in the past but you were able to bring the relationship back to life but this time?

This time things were too far gone.

You had given him nothing but endless empathy everytime Ferrari screwed him over, everytime the media pulled quotes from their ass, everytime someone twitter blamed him for someone else’s mistakes. It was always you there for him. You were the only one fighting for him, right front and center when he had a bad race or when strategies didn’t work out, everything.

Yet, it was for nothing.

“Don’t ignore me Carlos, please,” you said softly, but the crack in your voice is clear. You’re at a party—Lando’s, drug here against your will, against your better judgment. You knew he needed to let loose, but all you wanted was to talk to him. You knew you had to instigate, that he’d ignore you all evening if you didn’t.

He was still losing you.

Everybody talks about the seven year curse. You never saw it coming, even if it was staring you square in the face.

1. You stop being curious about each other

First, it was the little things. No more questions, no more answers. You didn’t spend your time telling him about your favorite breakfast foods and he didn’t spend his time asking. Years came and went, and you thought it was endearing that there weren’t questions, that it was proof your relationship was strong. He knew you like the back of his hand, you’d told yourself.

2. You start keeping secrets from each other

The secrets, though, that’s a new development. A few months ago, he never would’ve sat at the table with his phone face down, never would’ve leaned away from you when he typed or managed to spend time with Lando even when Lando wasn’t in town.

3. You’re spending less meaningful time together

It’s hard to spend time with someone who’s never around, who never wants to be around. That’s all there is to say about that.

4. You start taking each other for granted

It was no secret Carlos had taken you for granted. Everyone knew it, they could see it anytime the two were together. You were at his beck and call, his personal chef, his maid and his housekeeper and his butler. His trainer and his assistant and whatever else he might possibly need.

5. You don’t discuss your goals anymore

You stopped wondering if he would ever propose two years ago. Well, you told yourself you stopped wondering. Everytime he asked you to go out or suggested you dress up nice or acted even the slightest bit weird, you were bouncy at the idea of him on one knee.

6. You’re drowning in criticism

What was harder than accepting you were never going to be his wife, maybe, was coming to terms with the fact that everyone else wanted it more than you. Seven years is a long time. It hung over both of your heads like a storm cloud of implication. You wondered if he ever planned on marrying you, or if the last seven years have been nothing but fun to him.

And lastly

7. You have no fight left

If you still had any fight left in you, you wouldn’t be googling the seven year curse while he silently sat at the other end of the sofa. You remember the moment you lost it, that last little bit of fight and fire. You remember it easier than you remember what it felt like to be in love with him.

You had shaken your head as Carmen sent another article of some “close friend” talking about how the media was portraying you as a pathological people pleaser. It hurt. Sure, you knew marriage wouldn’t fix everything but it was the fact you didn’t feel wanted or appreciated anymore that finally broke the walls down like a wrecking ball.

Carlos looked over at you watching you shake your head and pocketed your phone. “What’s that about?” He asked, he could tell something was bothering you and he had an inkling of what it could be, but, he wasn’t going to bring it up. If he did, that would make things real.

“Nothing, just… just Carmen sending me another article. I wouldn’t marry me either, you know? Since I’m such a pathological people pleaser,” you looked at him, waiting to see what he’d say. But when the room fell into heavy silence and he just continued to look at you, all you could do was give a curt nod and purse your lips as you got up off the couch and walked upstairs. You couldn’t stand looking at him anymore if he wasn’t going to fight for the relationship you two had.

Sure, you may have been a people pleaser, but that’s just who you were. You liked helping, liked making people happy. But the one thing you wanted most of all? You only wanted Carlos to see you, to see that you’ve been there for him through everything. Not as a complacent stand-in girlfriend, but to mean something to him like you used to back when.

And I'm fading, thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)

"To believe, unless you're choosing me"

Two weeks had gone by and all you could think about was begging him to do something, to say something, anything, to you about how he was feeling. Give up his pride to show he still cared and loved you like you had loved him. It was his choice to make, you couldn’t force him to love you. He had to choose, all he had to do was choose.

But when he didn’t, you took it as a sign. Stop kicking a dead horse, pick yourself up and get on with your life. If he won’t then someone else will. Slowly but surely, every time he left for a race you’d pack up more things and ship them to your parents house. It took a bit longer than you figured it would but when you’ve spent seven years living with someone you realize just how much of your life is grounded in one place.

Once you had gotten all that you had, you stood in front of the dresser mirror looking at the necklace that you had on, remembering the memory of Carlos giving it to you when you both were teenagers. Your fingers play with it and it brings tears to your eyes to reach behind your neck and unclasp it. This would be the first and last time you ever took it off since being gifted it. As you held it in your hand, all crumpled and ready to be tangled, it made you realize that this was real, you were taking the step and finally walking away like you should have when all of this first started. You grabbed your bag off the bed and sat the necklace down on his nightstand knowing he’d find it whenever he got home. Taking one last look around the room you walked out and closed the door behind you, leaving the house key on the kitchen counter as you passed.

A necklace and a house key. The only implication that you were ever here, that you never would be again.

You're losing me

Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me

I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore

Carlos didn’t realize it until it was too late. He had unlocked the front door and the house was eerily quiet and cold. He frowned, set his bags down and realized you must’ve gone out. He checked his phone to make sure he didn’t miss a text from you letting him know, but there was nothing. No text, no call, nothing. It confused him even more as he shut the door and walked further into the house.

He paused when he entered the living room, everything looked normal until he sat his hands on the back of the couch making him pull his hands back in confusion, the fluffy blanket you always had laid there was gone. That made him look around the room even closer, quickly noticing the books and candles you had on the coffee table were no longer there. The pictures above the fireplace were gone, every single trace of you ever being in the house was no longer there.

He skipped half the steps on the way up the staircase, through the hallway and into your room; empty and cold, like the rest of the place. He moved over to the closet swinging the door open, his breath catching in his throat when he saw your side totally bare and empty. The dresser drawers matched.

But he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, laying on his nightstand. As he walked over the tears started pooling in his eyes as he picked the item up, it was the necklace he had given you when you both were sixteen. He had gotten it for you, wanting to show how much he loved and appreciated you. Holding it now just signified how much he had fucked up. You had never taken it off, no matter how many fights you two had gone through over the years. Never. Not until now.

You had given him so many signs that he blatantly ignored or brushed off thinking you would always continue to be there for him despite him acting the way he was.

And now?

The relationship that was so full of love had died and he couldn’t find any way to bring it back to life.

He finally lost you and it was completely his own undoing.

#imagine #formula 1 #series #midnightsseries #midnights song drabbles #you’re losing me #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #formula one x reader

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seat-safety-switch · 2 months

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Budgeting is one of those challenges we all have. No matter how rich you are, there is a fixed amount of money you can lay claim to. There's probably more things you want to buy with that money than you can afford. And there's a lot of lame, boring things you have to buy, like electricity and toilets. So you need to budget, to make sure that you don't accidentally impulse-purchase yourself into the poorhouse. Is having a working third gear in your truck really worth eating dumpster-dove Spam for a few weeks? Putting it down on paper will help you decide.

In times long past, this was a lot easier to do. You could physically see your money, and then stuff some of that money into your mattress. Back then there wasn't as much stuff to spend it on, too. Just booze and horses, and gambling was limited to how many of your neighbours wanted to play cards. Nowadays, at all hours of the night, a holographic anime maiden will invisibly reach her impossibly long fingers into your virtual wallet under the pretence of "just hanging out," and use your hard-earned dosh to play the slots in a country whose name you can't pronounce.

Budgeting had to advance with the times. Of course, the banks certainly aren't going to help you. They want you to spend way too much, so they can then sign you up for fancy products and charge you interest rates and user fees. That's why I started a new kind of bank. It's called SwitchBanc® and it is important to understand that the spelling is legally distinct in this country from the actual word "bank," for reasons that my attorney will disclose to you upon request.

Here's how it works: we hold on to all of your money, and we spend it for you. Sure, some months you might not get anything, other than a little note saying "we had to buy the cheap oranges again." And then, out of the blue, you'll get that Super T-10 you were dreaming of, with the straight-cut gears and the monster-short final drive to help make that quarter mile. Sure, it's not a five-speed, but our team of experts and complex mathematical analysis have proven that you were just going to keep it in fourth most of the time anyway. Importantly, you never have to worry: we'll take care of it on your behalf.

Of course, this service can't be provided for free. All those actuaries and shit cost money, not to mention their dorky little green visors and our insanely expensive advertising campaign. So once in awhile, we're going to dip into your money for something we want. As a treat, really, we deserve it after working so hard for you. Say, have you seen the brand new 5-speed Tremec TR3650 in my truck? I really had to save up for it.

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thelittleliars · 1 year

Text

Silence (1/4)

Warnings: angst; hurt

Words: 1.2K

Summary: You accidently coming out destroyed a decade long friendship.

AN: Thanks for all the love on my first story "New Year"! I didn't proofread this one so be warned. This might get a Part 2 with a happy ending but I'm not sure.

[Part 2: Second Chance]

"Movie night later?" You asked Natasha at the dinner table where all the Avengers sat with you.

Natasha nodded her head and smiled at you widely. "Sure. But it better be a horror movie." You loved horror movie nights with her. Neither of you were scared of them but you both laughed at ridiculous scenes and cuddled anyways.

"So tell me Y/N," Sam interrupted your conversation. "What's going on between you and black widow?"

You looked at him baffled. Natasha and you were friends ever since you both worked at shield together so you didn't get why he implied that more is between you two. "What?" You said.

"Oh come on, you two are super close, doing almost everything together, cuddle all the time, go out, wear each other clothes... there has to something going on between you two." Sam's hint at you liking girls had you shifting in your seat. It was true that you were into girls but you haven't told a soul. Wanda was the only one who might found out about it since she couldn't control her mind reading powers when she first joined the Avengers.

"We're just friends." You told him, with anxiety slowly creeping up on you. The whole team started to listening in on the conversation. "I swear we're just friends."

"Are you sure that you don't wanna date her?" He wiggled his eyebrows. His words and behavior infuriated you. And with this rage mixed with anxiety, you unknowingly came out to the entire team. "Just because I like girls doesn't mean that I instantly want to date my female friends."

Some looked shocked, others looked as if they had suspicions and then there was Yelena who looked happy, proud even. "Ha! So I wasn't crazy when I saw Y/N Y/L/N ogle that one girl at the mall months ago. Pay up Kate Bishop." She exclaimed excited. You blushed after hearing Yelena's words, thinking you were subtle checking girls out.

Natasha, who sat next to you, was brooding. She didn't like it one bit that you hadn't told her about your sexuality first. She felt hurt. Did you think she would judge you or not accepting you for liking girls? Were you afraid of losing your (Avengers) family? Or did you simply not trust her with that kinda stuff? You had never held yourself back before so why right then?

"Alright but do you have a girlfriend already or can I be your wingman?" You blushed and hid your face in your hands. "No help needed." You barely got those words out. "Lady Y/N, you have to introduce us to them!" Thor demanded in excitement.

"We've only been on a couple of dates." You blushed further. "Plus she's not out yet so I rather not drop any names." Thor was quiet understanding and dropped the topic. You were honestly glad for that since it ended the whole conversation about you. The topic now was about Tony and Pepper.

You shifted back your attention to the Widow next to you who was acting strange. Her body language was awkward and you hoped once the movie night started it'd get better. But you were wrong, it got worse, the air between you two was thick and non of you uttered a word about the incident at dinner.

The red head distanced herself even more from you after the movie night. It hurt you deeply, the pain only got worse with how hard you tried to fix whatever happened, but nothing good came out of it. Natasha shut you out so easily that you overthought your whole relationship with her. In the end you came to the conclusion that you never really knew her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost 2 months since the coming out incident happened, while you and Natasha's relationship were in pieces, your relationship with the other ex-shield agent thrived. But you missed the red head dearly. You missed her warmth that radiated off of her when you two cuddled closely during movie nights. Her touch on your arm whenever she was excited to show or tell you something. You even missed her awful dry jokes she made to cheer you up. But all that was left was her ghostly presence which seemed to never leave your side. Not matter what you did, her ghost lingered every single second.

You felt heaviness inside of you as sat down on the bench in the training room, and the spot next to you is empty. Training was no longer fun when you didn't have your favorite person train with you. It felt as if the universe was against you when you saw Natasha enter the training room. What she did here at this unholy hour was beyond you. It made your mood even more sour.

"Steve said you'd be here." She spoke up. "He said we need to spar again. So move your ass."

Your body hesitated to get up but eventual did with a heavy sigh. Exhaustion was written all over your face. Natasha was already in the ring, waiting for your slow ass to join. Both of you took your stand but non of you tried first to make a move. You both danced around each other which irritated Natasha immensely. She expected a move from you long ago since that was how you always started sparring with her.

Her irritation turned into frustration and anger fast. And did something she probably will regret for the rest of her life. "Trouble in paradise with Agent Shaw?" She taunted you. "Saw some spicy video of hers the other day."

That got your complete attention. You knew about Agent Shaw's private video which her ex boyfriend leaked years ago. The video recently surfaced once again and you tried your best to take it down forever. You even begged Tony for help, who was glad to finally have a small challenge again. It took him some time but it was finally gone now but apparently not before the Black Widow saw it.

"Okay..?" What else were you supposed to say to the women you once knew perfectly.

"I have a copy and I'm sure you have one too but in case you don't, I'm willing to-" She got cut off by you punching her in the face. You didn't meant to punch her this hard but you were fed up with her bullshit.

The blow of the hit was so unexpected and hard that she fell on the ground. She looked up at you stunned as hell, her eyes fluttered a bit while her bottom lip started to bleed.

"What the fuck Natalia." The sight of woman on the floor, looking so helplessly broke your heart once again. You were fighting so hard to get the friendship back that now by realizing your friendship was broken beyond repair, thanks to her behavior, was pain on a whole different level. What you were about to feel is grief from the loss of a decade long friendship.

Your heart and mind fought against each other but you had enough. Every single bad emotion was roaring in you as you silently said your final goodbye. Also with that, the ghost of hers that you felt all the time, disappeared.

The silence that hung in the air after you left was loud, it started to suffocate Natasha in a way she didn't know existed. How did she let herself become a monster again? Didn't she learn from her past? No thought in the world would help her in this situation because at the end, nothing mattered anymore since it was her silence that broke you two apart.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #yelena belova #thor odinson #the avengers #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x y/n #black widow x reader #Silent Series

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steviesbicrisis · 2 years

Text

Are you dating Eddie Munson?

I haven't stopped thinking about this AU idea so I decided to write a little bit more! I have other stuff in mind so I might write other scenes too, we'll see. A little summary for you:

Eddie and Steve have been dating for a few months now, and things couldn't go better between them. Being a popular kid and all, Eddie's love life is the talk of the campus, and everybody seems to wonder: what does Eddie Munson see in that ordinary freshman?

Steve doesn’t how it’s possible, but he's pretty sure words are moving around the page in front of him; some are blurry, others have a messed up order and a few are totally jumping out.

It wouldn't be the first time that happens to him, either. Sometimes it's impossible to focus, and the more he tries the fastest the words escape from him.

There's no solution for this either. Steve would never admit out loud how stupid he is, not over his dead body, so he'd rather stare at the same paragraph for hours than admit he doesn't understand. Robin is sitting across from him, eyes focused on the same book but a different paragraph, she looks deep in thought and Steve would bet she is far ahead of him. Steve shifts in his seat, pulling the book closer so she won't see he's still at the beginning of the chapter.

He looks back at the page, determined to at least finish reading it - the bare minimum - before they have to go to class.

«Hi, sorry to bother you but I have to ask - are you and Eddie Munson dating?»

Steve grips his book, because of course, as if his morning isn't going shits already, he also has to deal with this. Again. He gives one last glance at the paragraph before looking up «sorry, didn’t catch your name…?» he says instead, giving the girl the fakest smile he can master.

He is sure Robin is containing a laugh behind her book.

«Uhm, I’m Stacy» she’s taken aback, and a little annoyed «so, are you? dating.»

«I don't know for how much longer,» he says, teeth clenched. And really, he knows he's being dramatic and he knows that it's just an innocent question. Hell, he'd rather have them blatantly ask him than flirt with his boyfriend behind his back, but when you get asked the same question a million times over, you're bound to get a little pissed.

«Excuse me?»

«I mean, isn't that what you wanted to hear? You would be happy if I did, wouldn’t you? How about I do you a favor and write it down so you also have proof to show! Hell, I could make a fucking poster and hang it somewhere, so you and the rest of the student body will know for sure and will leave me the fuck alone.»

The girl - Stacy - takes a step back, her eyes fixed on Steve in a comical expression of shock and disbelief. She then turns to look at someone, probably mouthing something about Steve to her friends, like "can you believe this guy?" or "Munson must be crazy".

«Are we done?»

Stacy doesn't even bother to answer, she gives him a look of "you are insane" and walks away.

«Steve-»

«I know okay?» he interrupts Robin, not wanting to hear it «it’s stupid and I should let it go, but it pisses me off.»

«Then talk to Eddie! he could do something» she suggests, closing her book. It’s time for their first lecture. Steve hasn't even managed to finish the paragraph in two hours. Shit.

Talking with Eddie would be the better choice, it doesn’t make it any easier.

---

Steve is finally done with his last lecture and he's cutting through the inner courtyard to reach Robin at the entrance Hall. People have been whispering around him all day so he knows not only that the Stacy girl has no shame in pursuing taken men, she also has a big mouth.

Someone catches up with him and puts an arm around his middle.

«So, what is this thing about you breaking up with me with a billboard? Let me tell you it won’t work - I’m a sucker for drama and attention» Eddie presses on his side, his face only a few inches from Steve's. His smile is an amused one.

From the start, Eddie never shied away from physical touch: once he was sure Steve was comfortable with it - and not only he was, he loved it - there was always a part of Eddie in contact with him, whether it was an arm over his shoulders, fingers in his hair, hand on his back. Accordingly, they rarely did more than that in public, because even tho they were not hiding their relationship, homophobes still exist in 2022 and they live in Indiana.

Steve rolls his eyes and looks the other way, clenching the books he's carrying in his arms. Eddie's presence is enough to make him feel better, but he wants to stay mad «your groupies are delusional. And drop that grin or I might actually take on that billboard idea. I’ll make a giant one, over the main entrance» his tone is deadly serious but Eddie knows him better than to believe anything he's saying. He covers his grin with one hand, just in case.

«I know you're still smiling, Munson. I have a huge sheet and red paint at home and I'm not afraid to use it! It will look like that scene in Harry Potter, with the bloody writing on the wall and everything.»

Eddie can't believe that his boyfriend - who barely knew what Lord of the Rings was before they started dating - has just laid out a Harry Potter reference for him like it was a daily occurrence. He wants to kiss the daylight out of him, but that would make him actually mad.

So he puts his other arm around his stomach, caging him. They're forced to a stop.

«I'm sorry baby, you're just so cute all worked up,» Eddie says, containing himself from gushing all over him. Steve still avoids his gaze, but he's clearly melting under Eddie's attention. Pet names and physical touch always get through him.

«I'm glad one of us is having fun» Steve deadpans.

Eddie keeps one of his arms around his waist and lifts Steve's chin up with his free hand «I'm not gonna lie, it is kinda funny. And you are very cute and hot at the same time - somehow - but» he emphasizes the last word, dramatically, « I don't want you to be upset so, talk to me.»

Steve is a little embarrassed. He knows it doesn't matter, he's been through this before. People love gossiping, and he really doesn't care what they say. But also, he used to be the one on the other side, no one has ever questioned him being with anybody, or has given him that look of disgust he got from Eddie's most loyal fans.

Even so, Eddie has nothing to do with it.

«I'm sorry. I get you're some sort of rock star here, and I love that for you, I really do, but...» he's struggling to find the right words «... I don't know, I guess I'm a little jealous.»

«of the groupies?»

«No! Well, I don’t enjoy their presence, for sure. It’s more-» he’s trying to find the right words, Eddie rubs his palms on his back to encourage him «it’s about you. But not you - you, it's the way you carry yourself, like you were made for college! And everyone here can tell, as much as they can tell that I wasn't. I barely know which class I’m taking when, I don't understand what I'm studying and I feel like everyone here already knows what they’re doing, like they went to college before going to college, if this even makes any sense… and, I don’t know, it’s hard already when you know that you’re fucking up, but when everyone else knows and wonders why the great Eddie Munson is dating you of all people- it’s not great. But also, I can't even read a simple introductive chapter without getting a headache, so I get why people might have some reservations against me, I just wish they would keep it for themselves instead of bugging me every second of my life!»

While he was talking, Eddie had made them both sit at one of the picnic tables scattered around the court, he realizes.

It's clear to both of them that Steve's outburst isn't just about the gossip.

«I had no idea this was bothering you this much,» Eddie says, earnestly.

Steve starts fidgeting with Eddie's rings on his right hand, his left arm is still on Steve's back. He feels pathetic, bothering his boyfriend with trivial matters and his stupidity.

«It's not a big deal» he tries to take back some of his words, but Eddie interrupts him immediately.

«It is a huge deal if it bothers you this much. Plus, I get some curiosity about us, but asking you almost every day is just, fucked up.»

«Well, that's popularity for you. I thought you had figured this out by now» Steve jokes.

«Well, I was supposed to learn how to manage it from an expert, but somehow I always get distracted when he lectures me» he manages to make Steve chuckle. «But let's talk about college for a second. It flatters me that you think of me as a perfect social butterfly, but do I need to remind you that I came to you a couple of months ago because I couldn't take it anymore? Also» he shifts in his seat, taking Steve's hands in his «you're not giving yourself enough credit. College is fucking hard, man, especially first year. Everything is so big and serious and different compared to high school, you think I was this confident in my first year? it takes time to adjust, maybe even more for you since - well - you used to have the school at your feet. So trust your gorgeous, perfect-»

«I never said you were perfect.»

Eddie ignores him «-super famous boyfriend: you're doing great, you'll get there and even if you don't, there's no shame in failing. Okay?»

Steve stares at him for a few seconds, then nods «okay. But I don't think I can stand more people questioning your sanity for dating me.»

«Honestly, I'm pretty sure you misread the whole thing. They're totally thinking “why is Eddie Munson dating this hottie of all people? I don’t stand a chance”» Steve laughs, Eddie gets up «but just to be sure they won't bother you anymore...» he jumps on the picnic table, and Steve's eyes widen comically.

«Eddie what are you doing?? Come down!» he knows his boyfriend and his love for big grand speeches too well to not guess what he has in mind.

Eddie blows him a kiss «Attention everyone! Your favorite music department student has an announcement to make!» some people from said department immediately cheer and he thanks them with an exaggerated bow. Steve hides his face in his palm, knowing there's no way he can stop him now.

«I've heard there has been some confusion so let me clear the air: I, Eddie Munson, have been involved in a consensual, very sexual» Steve makes a strangled noise and a few people whistle «but also romantic relationship with this hot piece of ass right here» he puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, leaving him no way to escape «Steve Harrington» he bends forward, Steve looks up at him and Eddie gives him a quick upside-down peck, as to reinforce the concept «who isn’t going to break up with me today, tomorrow or never. So, it’s none of your fucking business but if any of you shitheads has any concerns on this matter, you know where to find me. Thank you for your attention» he jumps off the table, the curious students who had stopped to witness the scene are giving a mix of incredulous, baffled and admiring reactions. Eddie barely cares, his eyes are on Steve.

«I fucking hate you» Steve immediately tells him.

«No you don’t» he's smirking.

«I'm breaking up with you right now.»

«No, you aren't, Stevie» his smile is somehow even bigger.

«I really, actually, genuinely hate you,» Steve says, hugging him. Eddie hugs him back, tight.

«How are you feeling?» Eddie whispers in his ear.

«I wanna say better but then I'm validating you putting up a show every time we have a problem.»

«I am nothing but a humble knight serving his Majesty the King,» he says, using a pompous tone for his character.

«I need no man saving my regal ass, thank you very much.»

When they reach the main Hall, Eddie's arm once again around his middle, Robin is waiting for them, a mischievous grin on her face «Excuse me» she addresses Steve, loudly «are you the famous Hot-Piece-of-Ass engaged in a consensual and very sexual relationship with Eddie Munson?»

Steve flips her off as Eddie laughs and high-fives her.

Let's just say, the nickname will stick with Steve for a while.

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keikakudom · 2 months

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RR!AU Why Vox Sponsors the Resort

Something I was gently afraid of when I posted my Reverse/Reset Resort AU was the whole thing coming off as a fix-it/Vox apologist AU... which I won't deny, one of the motivations was to explore how he would be viewed when presented as a "heroic"/good guy pedastal in the narritive. Similar to canon Alastor-- he's morally grey, we don't know exactly what he wants, and is an otherwise "bad guy" on the side of the hero for now. That said! I do deeply adore Vox's mean, cold, evil side.

His "business motivation" for sponsoring Charlie in this AU can be easily written off as a tsundere farce for wanting to be redeemed, but when he contracted with Lucifer, he most definitely, verbatim, used the words "business" and "hotel/resort".

Because that's exactly how Vox sees it. He's a business shark and always wants to be at the top in terms of power-- so yes, he had to give some stuff up(the Vees had to dissolve publically, soul insurance), but what's business without a bit of risk taking? And hey, he got the jump on this opportunity...because you know what sounds like power?

Deciding who gets to enter the pearly gates or not.

So, I do think one faucet here plays on the rumor that when Vox was a human he was a cult leader. It really feels like a God thing to be able to control who gets redeemed or not. So yes, he sold his soul to Lucifer to help Charlie with her hotel/resort. Not her DREAM. Vox is helping her to redeem Sinners, but he never specified to do it philanthropically/like a charity.

He isn't treating redemption as anything more than a product: Sinners are just consumers, statistics and numbers, and all the more proven because there's evidence that ascending/desending between Hell/Heaven is possible(even though the latter hasnt been concretely proven yet, it's enough for him to do business with).

I'm sure Charlie in this AU is wary of Vox, but she doesn't understand or know the full extent of what he's planning. She doesn't have that shark mind to jump straight to the end point and what rewards are to be reaped.

Also, in light of mentioning them: The Vees are important in this AU! They might not be the polycule powerhouse /j as we know in canon, but they are too good of a dynamic to ignore! And they're next on my list to design after I finish Alastor and Vaggie.

#au: reset resort #Hazbin hotel au #Sorry idk how else to organize my au ideas and i should probably include a sketch everytime i post about this au but yknow #Aside from a huge ass google doc💀#I yap a lot and dont look back on my writing #text post

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carolmunson · 8 months

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you keep me without chains | em.

this is a re-post of a ramble fic of me processing some stuff i've been through and am struggling with in my own healing. if you're familiar with my 'bad at feelings' series, it's in a similar vein of writing except eddie is incredibly soft and sweet to reader who is going through her own stuff. eddie sucks here, i don't think it's a correct characterization of him but it's just me using him as a placeholder.

originally, i didn't want to put this story in the tags because it's sad and explores the mindset of someone in a non-physically abusive relationship. however, since it is DV awareness month, i wanted to make sure to express that if there are people reading this who are struggling that they aren't alone and there are people there that understand and support them. and also that if there are younger readers reading (still eighteen plus!) who aren't sure if they are in an abusive relationship they are maybe able to get some context via fiction. my inbox is always open. DV Hotline US: 800-799-7233 DV Hotline UK: 0808 2000 247 tw: 18+ mindors dni, references to emotional and psychological abuse, minor threats of physical violence.

he left this morning with a kiss on your cheek and your lips, a nuzzle against your temple when you gave him two thermos's, one with hot black coffee and the other with the beef stew you made last night. hot hot hot. the way he likes it.

you made bread, so crisp on the outside, pillowy soft on the inside. he groaned when he popped it in his mouth at the dinner table, soaked in broth and butter. you warmed some in the oven when you put his lunch together, wrapping it in foil to trap the heat -- maybe it'll keep until his lunch hour. he might eat it all before his lunch hour. he never eats breakfast really.

you clean the counters and do the laundry while he's away. no kids to take care of, not yet at least. you mend his spare coveralls, treating the grease and oils stains, resewing his name tag stiched in red thread. you shine your mary janes and stilettos, shine his doc's just to be nice. you fix his patches on his vest from the last show he went to. you clean the stubble out of the sink in the bathroom.

he has the car so there's nowhere to go.

you shower, you do your hair, put make up on, go through the motions while he's not home. he hates to wait for you to do it but you hate looking tired when you're out and about. better to do it when he's busy doing something else.

next door neighbor is heading to the library, knocks on your door to see if you wanna come with. she just wants you to get out of the house for once, stop playing wife to a man who hasn't married you yet.

you hesistate, wanting to be home in time to make dinner, but you can't imagine the library taking too long so you go. she looks at you with a strained pity that you can't stand. he doesn't hit you, so why does she even look at you like that? he'd never do that. he just got back from all that shit with a few screws loose. he never knows what he means when he says it.

he's always sorry. y'know? he's always sorry. sorta.

doesn't hit you but you know how the day will go by the way he says good morning. by the way he wakes up with you -- or without you. know how the night will go by the way he breathes when he comes in through the storm door. by the cadence of his steps on the metal stairs. by the way the van pulls in.

sometimes things break and that's fine cause he just replaces them. he knows he shouldn't have thrown it, he knows he shouldn't have tossed it, he knows. he knows. that's why he gets it the very next day. new plates, new house phone, new coffee pot, new records, new casettes, new picture frames, new flower pots. he doesn't throw them at you. he's only punched the wall twice. he slams his head against it all the time. cause he knows he's not good. he knows. you go to the library and check out some books, laugh at your neighbors jokes, tell her about your weekend in the city visiting his friends. he held your hand in front of everyone and pulled you onto his lap, he joked with you and you laughed the whole time. you went to see a band play that you'd never heard of and he got you a t-shirt and the next morning you all went out for hot chocolate and breakfast and he kissed the whipped cream off your lips and ran his thumb over your engagement ring over and over. he never stopped calling you baby. so charming. so perfect. you don't know what you did to earn it, but you've been chasing it ever since. modeling that week's behavior into this one. tip toes through the tulips of the trailer. jagged. shell like.

you get home from the library and lunch, she even stops with you when you mention you have to go to the grocery store. out of eggs for meatloaf, needed some canned string beans for one of the sides.

it's the best dinner you've made in a while and the mashed potatoes are double whipped and extra buttery because he can never get enough of them. you know that it's little things like that. you love the smile he gets when you tell him you do some things just for him, so blushy and boyish.

'that's so nice, baby,' he gushes, 'thinkin'a me.' and god he gushes. cries when he can't contain it. saw you in a new dress and wiped his eyes. new hair cut sent him into orbit.

so pretty.

you're so beautiful, i don't deserve you.

you're gorgeous i -- i can't even like, think.

presents on your birthday. handwritten notes with tear drops washing over the ink in a wave, blurry letters blue and black, black and blue. he'd never hit you. too in love. too bursting with affection when he looks at you. too nervous when you look at him when he takes you out. when he plays a show. when he sees you get dressed into your pjs at night. you're so good to me. especially when you hold him through those nightmares. when you calm his anxiety, those deep breath panic attacks. the ones that the meds miss when he misses them. you're patient through the mood swings and he always says thank you. he always says it -- you're the only one that understands him. that sees him. sometimes you don't get it. that's what he says at least. you don't get it and that makes him upset. but you're not sure what there is to get. and you try not to get sad about it -- 'bout anything really 'cause you're not the one who got a few screws knocked loose. nothing bad like that happened to you. i mean, sure, maybe some bad things happened to you but not like the way bad things happened to him, right? you wouldn't get it. but he gets you, he tells you all the time. he gets you so well. symbiotic. the only person who knows you, the only person whose been in your skin -- right? at least that's what he says, and he's said it so long you can't help but believe it.

your eyes fall on the newly vased roses he bought you two days ago from the florist near the shop. bright red petals opened and fat, contrasting against the pea green of the walls. you smile at them while you pour gravy over each plate, extra on his mashed potatoes. he kissed you this morning, he was almost late leaving the house -- couldn't stop kissing you. couldn't stop looking at you with those brown eyes, sparkling with a mischief saved for tonight.

the van rolls in as you set the table, still in your outfit from earlier, the books you checked out on the counter need the flowers. the storm door opens off kilter, your throat constricts. you know by the way he doesn't say anything when he comes in the house. work boots kicked off with loud thumps. his jacket swishing with a thwap when he throws it with a grunt to the ground. something bad must've happened at work. 'hey honey,' you say quietly, 'got dinner for you.'

you know better, watching him turn the corner into the dinette, looking down at you from where he stands and you sit. you hold a mug full of orange juice on the table, fingers tapping on it silently while he holds his gaze. 'you goin' somewhere, dressed up like that?' he asks, there's nothing behind those sparkling eyes now. dulled out to hollow brown.

'no,' you shrug, you know how to coreograph your responses now -- still stepping on his toes sometimes, 'went to the library with gina, she just wanted a friend for some errands.'

'you know gina doesn't like me,' he nods, walking to the fridge to grab a beer, 'she doesn't like us together. she hates me.'

'she doesn't hate you, ed,' you assure, voice still calm, mediating, 'no one hates you.'

'your folks hate me, your sister hates me,' he nods, curls bouncing while he takes a swig, like it's normal conversation. so steady, 'you think they like that i got you ever here in this trailer park?'

'my parents don't ha--'

'they do.' and that's final. you don't argue. and he's right. your parents don't like him and that's why you don't call anymore, and they stopped calling you too. so did all your friends from back home.

'so what'd gina tell you about me today, then?' he presses.

'nothin'," you shrug, 'we didn't talk about you.'

'of course not,' he laughs but it's one that sends a chill under your skin, a laugh to not seem so mean when you know he's about to be, 'she was prob'ly tryna set you up with someone. that's why you got all dressed up right? anything to look good for other guys out there.'

's'cuse me?' 'you heard me,' he nods, voice still steady like nothing's wrong, 'that's why you wore all those tight jeans in the city last weekend, right? those dresses? tryna show off to harrington and the guys. don't act like i didn't notice.'

'what are you talking about? why didn't you say anything when we were there?' you heart rate quickens, you try not to get mad.

'i shouldn't have to. but that's how you are, y'know?' he shrugs, another swig, another chuckle, 'makin' dinner and everything, you must've been out there makin' eyes at everyone if you made my favorite.'

'i wasn't doing that,' you urge, voice raising, tears threatening to pool, 'i just made it cause you like it, cause it makes you happy.'

'so you just do anything to make sure i don't get mad? do you even know why you do stuff like this for me?' he asks.

'what are you even saying?' your voice raises again, a mild yell. you're frazzled now, heart racing, head already scrambled.

'don't yell, what're you -- fuck babe, see! this is why gina doesn't like me,' he grits through his teeth, 'cause you're always making a scene over nothing. you're over fuckin' reacting.'

'i --' your voice catches in your throat, quieting, 'i'm sorry? i'm sorry.'

'd'you even know what you're sorry for?' he nearly sneers, 'always sayin' your sorry over nothing. y'know somethin' babe, sorry loses it's meaning when you're sayin' it all the time. it doesn't mean anything from you anymore.'

you nod, losing your resilience, too confused about how quickly you got here -- and he's right. you're always apologizing but half the time you don't even know what you're apologizing for. just that you feel like you need to be sorry. like you need to say sorry.

he holds that stare on you like he's waiting for you to speak again. daring you to say something. you stare down at the wood grain of the table, blank and empty -- numb, even. the mug between your hands is warm from how hard you were gripping the ceramic to keep you grounded.

's'what i thought,' he nods, voice a low rumble while he makes his way to the bathroom.

he'd never hit you.

the slam of the bathroom door makes you flinch.

sometimes you wish he would. maybe it would hurt less than this. at least that physical pain fades, right? at least it wasn't the same dull ache on a bruise that won't go away. are you hemmorhaging? do you just not feel it yet? will it be too late when you do?

he slides into bed with you at night after spending the rest of the evening out back with the other couples and families that were smoking ribs, having a little fire out in the brush. he smells like cigarettes. you could hear his grizzly laugh through the windows while you laid in the dark of your bedroom. too tired after the way he spoke to you to do anything else. everyone's favorite mechanic loverboy in the park.

you feel his fingertips on your shoulder, one of them gliding down the slope of your arm. he presses his lips to your shoulder blade, your eyes shut -- blearing with tears from that dull ache.

'dinner was really good, baby,' he says softly, a whisper.

you try to get out a thank you but it becomes a choke, a sniffle, a gasp. then a cry and then a harder one, remembering how he rolled his eyes at you two weeks ago when you cried after he threw out the love letter you wrote him for your four year anniversary because 'you didn't mean any of that shit anyway'.

he sits up, shushing you softly while his hand smooths over your bicep.

'what is it, sweetheart?' he asks, 'are you mad at me?'

you shake your head no. looking up at him, lying flat on your back. he looks so handsome in the moonlight, concerned eyes and tilted head peering down at you. 'n-no, ed. m'not mad at y-you,' you push out, head still scrambled. you feel guilty about last weekend, about going out today. what if guys really were looking? you know you weren't looking at them but what if they got the wrong idea? gina doesn't know what she's talking about, she's always hated ed. ever since they were kids.

'you just havin' one of your moments?' he asks, soothing voice, 'yeah?' one of your moments. always just one of your moments. couldn't be him, you're just -- maybe you're over thinking it.

'yeah,' you nod, 'm'sorry i went out with gina, baby i -- she didn't say anything bad about you.'

'it's okay,' he smiles, 'm'not mad at you. never mad at my girl.'

'no?' you ask, swallowing hard -- your heart leaps. he's not mad. maybe he just had a rough day.

'no doll, m'never mad at you. you always think i'm mad at you,' he says, thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to roll down the sides of your face to your hair line, 'you need me to kiss it better?'

another sob rips through you, nodding, because you do. you need it. and you sort of hate that you need it. you hate yourself for needing it. but he kisses you and it does feel better. he knows how to kiss you just right, he always has. he knows just where to put his hands. just how to pull away and brush his nose against yours. how to kiss your forehead between affirmations. smooth and understanding, like a movie scene. his kisses are his apologies. his sorry. you accept it every time.

because he doesn't hit you and he never would. in the morning, when the bathroom door slams so hard the walls vibrate, you flinch.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #dark!eddie munson #dark eddie munson #stranger things au #stranger things angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction

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randoimago · 9 months

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May I please request Gwen, Peter B, Pavitar, and Hobie reacting to their S/O(and if I may ask, best friend instead of S/O for Peter pls) being turned into their universe's version of the spot pls?

Please go light on the angst if that's how you wanna write it, otherwise I look forward to your ideas especially for a new fandom because your writing is great!

S/O Becoming Their Version of The Spot

Fandom: Spiderverse

Character(s): Gwen, Peter B, Pavitar, and Hobie

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): I'll do my best to go light with angst, but some of these characters (Gwen mostly) will have some angst!

Gwen

Oh boy does she feel a lot of conflicting emotions when she sees you and what you've turned into. First thing, it's the PTSD from her Peter at seeing that you somehow turned into this. And then it's guilt because, was she the cause of your transformation? Did she fail to save you?

The most conflicting feeling she has is what she's going to do. If the Spider Society learns about your abilities, then what if they want you destroyed or something to stop anomalies? No way in hell is she going to let that happen, but she's also afraid of what might happen if there is no other choice with saving you.

So, for now, she tries to help you with your powers. She tries to see what you both can do to try and gain some control with them. She can't and she won't lose you. That's not even an option to her.

Hobie

Well, your powers would make it a lot easier to break into corrupt government buildings to trash the place.

Joking aside, of course he's worried, but he doesn't think any good will come from showing that he's worried. So he's pushing that aside and thinking up ways to help you. He's seen what Miles' spot did, so now it's time to see what you both can do to prevent that.

Honestly, it's a bit annoying how cool and calm he is about the fact that you're opening holes all over the place. But hey, it's part of the learning process. If you break his things, then it just shows how punk you are (might actually be a bit peeved if his guitar got broken tho).

Pavitr

A very chaotic mix of "Don't worry, we'll fix it!" and "Oh my god, are you okay?!" He tries to be upbeat and optimistic about your condition with you, but he can't help worrying because he's seen what could potentially happen.

Tries not to make it obvious that he's constantly eyeing you, but he's constantly eyeing you to make sure you're okay. Don't even give him the "I'm fine" stuff because he's worried like a mother hen. Even if you are legitimately fine, he still thinks you're putting a brave face on for him.

He does get over his worry but that's when you're the one to help calm him down. After that, he takes several deep breaths and you two get to work with figuring out how to help you.

Peter

Yeah, so no offense but you're not allowed to babysit Mayday like that. He understands if you glare at him, it was a bad joke. Hiding behind jokes due to traumatic events is his specialty.

Will sit down with you and ask what happened, how it happened, and how you can fix it. Serious Peter is on because you're his friend and there's no way he's not going to try and help reverse this.

In the meantime, while he puts his super smart science skills to work, you're going to experiment with your powers. Just little things, but he wants to make sure you can control the basics just to be on the safe side.

#tw arachnophobia #arachnophobia tw #spiderverse x reader #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #peter b parker x reader

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gemini-sensei · 10 months

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Not What You Think | Tattooist!Hawk x Chubby!Reader

Tattoo Parlor AU ○ Based off of this POST ○

CW: suggestive themes, vulgar language, mentions of needles and healing processes (unedited).

"So did she actually get a tattoo or did you fuck her?" Tory asked. She was sitting at the worktable in the lobby, working on a drawing for a client. Her eyes stayed on the paper, but her ears were pert as the parlor fell quiet.

Hawk was trying to eat a granola bar, having just sent his newest client out the door with a "have a nice rest of your day" and an appointment card to come back for any touch ups her tattoo. She'd been very sweet, very easy to work with. She sat well, except for one little uncontrollable thing...

She moaned a lot during the session. Hours on hours of moaning. Fairly loud moans as well.

He almost choked on the granola and chocolate in his mouth upon hearing the question. It still made him cough and as he did his best to not die, Tory barked with laughter. She was the only one.

Then Robby spoke uo. "I thought he might very been killing her."

"Oh my god, I know," Tory groaned. She stopped drawing and sat back in her chair, finally looking up. "No one should be making those kind of noises back there."

Hawk finally regained his strength amd wits, taking a sip of long overdue water. "Shut up. Everyone reacts differently to getting a needle stuck into them a thousand times. And I was tattooing the the backs of the thighs, she's a little thick, so they were sensitive."

"I'm sure she enjoyed you grabbing her thick ass thighs," Tory snickered.

Hawk glared at her, but she only smirked in response. However, before he could come up with a witty comeback, someone else interjected.

Demetri grimaced. "I can't stand here and listen to this anymore. It was bad enough hearing the... noises coming from your room. I don't need any speculative imagery to go along with it. I have a two o'clock coming in soon, so maybe don't talk about it anymore either."

With that, he let the room and walked down the hall to his work room. He shut the door for some peace and quiet. Tory rolled her eyes and gathered her stuff.

"Whatever, she's just lucky she was the only one booked while she was here. I saw how embarrassed she was walking out of here, so I can only image how much worse it would have been had the rest of us has someone here," she said. Then she stood up and sighed.

Miguel let out a huff that was between disbelief and astonishment. "Yeah, my client had to reschedule. Kinda glad he did."

Robby shrugged. "I'm just waiting on walk-ins honestly."

Tory smirked and looked at Hawk. "Lucky, lucky you."

"Shut up, Tory," he spat, tired of the teasing.

They all cleared out of the lobby except for Miguel and Hawk. Miguel was at the reception desk, working on the computer as the phone rang. He greeted the person on the other end with his usual enthusiasm and Hawk walked outside, looking for some fresh air.

As soon as he was outside and leaning on the wall, Sam was walking up from her car. She smiled brightly and pushed her sunglasses up. "Hey, Hawk!"

"Hey," he grumbled.

Her smile quickly turned into a frown. "What's wrong?"

If anyone had a fix to a problem, it was Sam. That was part of her job after all. So even though it was a little embarrassing, he told her about what happened. "I had this new client come in. She was looking for a new shop to go to because all the ones she went to before never wanted her back. I wasn't worried about it. She's really sweet, too, so I didn't understand what everyone else's problem was."

"Did he kick and scream or something?"

"Worse."

"Break something?"

"No."

"Then what did she do?"

"She moaned. A lot. Like, the whole time I was tattooing her."

"Oh." Sam's pulled an awkward face before fixing it. She became thoughtful. "So what's the problem?"

"She's coming back for touchups and the second half of her tattoo."

"I see," she mused.

Things became silent and Hawk thought there was no way to fix this. There wasn't even a "real" problem to solve, but it sure did feel like there was. He rested his head back on the brick wall behind him and sighed. Just as he thought there was no hope, only further awkward situations, Sam let out a loud,

"Aha! I got it!"

"What?" he asked her, standing from the wall and turning to her hopeful.

She smiled. "You have your own studio at home, right? I know you've tattooed Miguel up there plenty of times. So why don't you just invite her out there for a more private setting. Surely that will be a lot better for you and especially her."

"Invite a stranger to my house? Are you crazy?"

"What's the difference than picking up a girl and taking her home?"

They were quiet for a moment, then Hawk sighed, knowing she was right. He supposed it wasn't a totally bad idea either. So he relented and nodded to her.

"Okay, I'll call her in a few to rearrange some things. Can't be too hard, right? And it's just a tattoo. What's the worst that could happen?"

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luveline · 1 year

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hi!! hope you’re doing well and having a fantastic december so far <3 do you think maybe you would write something with James where the reader has always kind of been in toxic relationships where sex was the only way to move on from or get past a fight, and he like kind of rejects that and tries to (super gently and kindly) teach her how to talk about it in a healthy way and work through it together? i just think it could be cute :) ily!

hi! tysm, i hope you are too, ily <3 i think i focused in on the wrong thing but i hope you like it anyhow!!! cw past unhealthy relationships + conversation about sex 18+ mdni ♥︎ fem!reader 1.5k

James is practically radiating anger across the room. You can tell he's trying not to show it.

You're angry too, of course, but you're more scared than anything. Not of James (he'd probably rather die than hurt you, and you know that) but of the possibility that you might break up.

It feels irrational and rational at once. He'd sounded so mad. He'd sounded hurt, which was worse. You'd made a snarky comment you now regret about his never being home because he's always at training, and he'd argued how this wasn't fair because rugby was literally his job, and you'd said it wasn't fair that you never saw him. So on and so forth, the argument had devolved into your saying stuff you didn't explicitly mean, backed into a corner, and James being upset because of it. You'd said… a lot of stuff that wasn't really true, and you'd accused James of not caring about you.

That's what blew his top.

You understand why he's mad about it. If he said the same to you, you'd be livid. But you don't really know how to fix it.

Well, you do. Though James isn't looking at you like they would, no expectancy, no Well, aren't you going to say sorry?

He's stationed himself on the sofa, elbows to his knees and facing the floor. While his anger is slipping, hurt and frustration are evident in his hunched posture. You stand up from the arm opposite where you'd been perched and take the few steps needed to close the distance, sitting primly by James' side.

He's kind. He turns to look at you as soon as you settle, and it's with an openness that makes your mouth dry. In your head, you're thinking that this is more than salvageable, that James will fuck you and forgive you and that if you do a good enough job, he'll spend more time with you during the week.

You put your hand on his knee, feeling the slightly tensed muscles underneath.

"Jamie," you murmur, one part apologetic, one part something else, "I'm sorry."

He holds your eye and then sighs inaudibly.

You keep talking. You don't want him to get mad again, or impatient. "Really sorry, and…" Your hand inches upward. "I can make it up to you."

He stiffens ever so slightly. You really hate that, unsure and unhappy and thinking maybe you can't fix anything after all. You pull your hand away, worried you've made him uncomfortable. He must see the flash of concern on your face as he sits up properly.

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes on his leg. "I thought…"

"That we would kiss and make up?"

His sudden response startles you, but James doesn't sound as mad as you'd imagined. "No," you say quickly, although that is exactly what you'd thought. "No, but I- I-"

You flounder for the right thing to say, embarrassed beyond words with the beginnings of panicked tears in your eyes.

James' hand is warm as he places it on your shoulder, and his expression much softer than it had been.

"Is that something you've done before?" he asks.

"You don't want to?"

He can likely hear how mortified you are. His hand climbs to the curve of your neck as he shifts toward you, his knee pressed into yours.

You perk up and immediately realise you've read the signs wrong again. James isn't going to kiss you. He's letting you down easy, which means he doesn't want to make up.

You backtrack hard. "James- I swear, I'm sorry, and I won't- I won't complain again. I know you have to go, and I know it's selfish to expect you not to. I won't mention it again."

You drift off, hoping he has something to say.

He stares at you for a beat that's too long.

"Sweetheart," he says finally, so softly, "back up a second, okay? I'm just trying to understand here. Did you think you had to have sex with me to say sorry?"

You wince and lean away.

"Because you don't have to. Ever."

You didn't think you had to have sex, but you're out of your depth here. You don't really know where to go from this point. "I know," you say weakly.

"Do you?" James asks, offering you his hand palm up over your thigh.

You take it like a lifeline.

"I don't think that it's a good solution to our problem," he says.

"What's our problem?"

"We're not on the same page."

You have never felt this awkward around James. To read the signs so wrong, to come onto him when he doesn't want it. "I'm sorry, for trying to-"

He squeezes your fingers. "Hey, don't be. Is it okay if I talk for a little bit?" You nod stiffly. "Alright… I'm not sure what you've- what's happened before, but I want to say that you don’t have to feel like you need to apologise in that way with me, because it should be on your terms completely, always. You know?" He weighs your expression. He can't find what he's looking for, because he continues. "With us, I don't want sex to be a kind of," — he searches for the right word — "currency. I don't want that for you." Again, his voice turns soft as silk. He massages your fingers with his lovingly. "Understand?"

"Yeah, I understand."

His eyebrows pull together. "I'm not mad at you, angel. It was a misunderstanding."

"I feel so-" Silly. Icky, immature. You shake your head. "I'm sorry."

You're still trying to soak in what he's said. He doesn't need sex to know you're sorry. It takes a second, but you realise how nice that feels.

"It's okay, you don't have to be sorry. I just needed to make sure you knew. We might be fighting but you're still my girl, right?"

Your throat aches as you say, "Right."

He leans in a little closer. His voice quietens. "I'm sorry someone made you feel like you had to do that, sweetheart. Really. There are better ways to work through it."

Tears come on so suddenly they're dripping off your jaw before you comprehend that you're crying at all, heavy teardrops that bump down your cheeks fiercely.

James is as surprised as you to see them, and he proves to you how big his heart is for the second time in as many minutes when he starts wiping and kissing away your tears, placating you with little murmurs and reassurances.

"It's okay," he says quietly, hand splayed behind your neck.

You hide away in his neck. Embarrassment rolls hot over your skin and still you can't get the tears to stop. This is possibly the most whirlwind you've ever been in front of him, and you know how lucky you are to be treated so delicately through it all.

"I'm sorry," you say again, thick with tears and genuinely appalled by your inability to stop crying.

"Don't be sorry, my love," he says, quiet still.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He scrubs his hand up and down your arm. "You didn't. I was more surprised than anything. I think… all the best make up sex comes after the making up, yeah? When we're both happy, and when we both want it because we want each other. Not because you feel like you need to."

You mean to say thank you, but "I love you," comes out instead, all sniffly and scratchy.

"I love you, too. You know that."

You're lucky enough to say that you do. James surprises you, as that is by no means the end of the conversation. He talks about things you should've talked about a while ago, and he makes a lot of things clear. That sex isn't something you ever have to do. Not to make up, not because you owe him anything, and not because you think it's expected. And all these things are normal — they're, as James says, the bare minimum, but he doesn't understand. They may sound like the bare minimum to some, but you've never actually had them before. He apologises for that, too.

And after, you talk about the argument. James tries to express his frustration, how he'd only been trying to resolve the issue, and you're gutted when you understand. You'd let insecurity guide you and you'd exacerbated the fight. Made it something that it wasn't.

James assures you that it's okay.

"I said stuff I didn't mean as well," he says. "Everybody does that."

You talk it out. When you do have make up sex, it's much later, and it's because you want to. James must ask "Are you sure?" twenty times, and he insists on being able to see your face. You don't mind.

He's right. All the best make up sex does come after the making up, not in place of it.

—

to clarify this isn't me dogging on all make up sex, just in situations where the reader felt like she had to because it was the only way to make up, as requested <3

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n

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