#life can't hurt me if i break my own heart first | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nebulein · 2 years

Text

Spending my lunch break thinking about 1988 rookies to lovers to exes to teammates finding themselves thrust together again as they're The Last, struggling with everything that was between them, the team and the city, trying to reconcile how Nothing Good Lasts Forever (be it their relationship or them being on the Hawks, possibly their hockey careers). They had grown apart but now they're forced back together by circumstance much like in the beginning of their relationship, their lives too parallel to separate.

Because really, who else on the team can relate what it means, to suddenly stand before this decision and all it encompasses? Seabs and Sharpy retired as Hawks on their own terms (trades aside), Hoss and Shawzy forced out by injury, Duncs leaving for family reasons that Jonny can't begrudge. None of them have been here, at this fork, holding their destiny in their hands and yet having no choice at all.

"You good?" Pat asks, bumping his shoulder into Jonny's.

"Haven't felt good since 2019," Jonny mutters. It falls flat as a joke, even with Jonny's dry humor. "Sorry." He rubs across his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah." Pat doesn't smile, and this right here, this is why they're "Kane and Toews" again, for the last time of their careers. They haven't talked, haven't been close in forever, but suddenly Jonny wants to share a hotel room again just so he doesn't have to lie in bed alone at night, the world closing in until the room feels too small to hold an ounce of oxygen.

Sometimes even one day at a time seems too insurmountable a task.

"I'm Pat."

"Jonny." The handshake is dry but firm. "Nice to meet you."

Pat had known, of course, who Jonny was, the quiet but explosive kid from Manitoba, third overall in 2006, spent another year at UND.

"You planning to stay up?" Jonny had asked at the end of their first day of training camp, teeth white and sharp in his grin, and Pat had huffed, annoyed. Who did this guy think he was?

"Yeah." No time to show weakness, or doubt.

Jonny nodded, a short sharp jerk of his head, like he believed Pat. Like it was their decision to make. "See you there."

They had both stayed up, of course, Pat fueled by a desperate desire to show everyone that he could do it, that he belonged. The Hawks had picked him first overall and they hadn't picked wrong. He'd wanted to show the coaches, the staff, the reporters crowding into his stall every game asking about every turnover and mistimed pass, wanted to prove his family right and all his naysayers wrong, and maybe somewhere, a little bit, show Jonny.

They've got nothing left to prove to each other now. They tried to make a run of it and failed, shouting matches that somewhere turned from harmless arguments to barbs stuck deep under each other's skin, hitting where it hurts, their ammunition enough to sink each other whole until Pat had finally called it quits. Jonny had hated him then for giving up, hated himself for driving Pat away, hated everything, out of his mind with rage.

It had all gone to shit in other ways after '15, years and years of mediocrity that Jonny can't help but wonder. What if he'd been better? Nothing had clicked like 2010, all of them too dumb and young to know what they had at the time. It worked again twice after that, but ever since Panarin left keeping the team together had felt like trying to hold quicksand in his palms, Pat a million miles away and yet putting the team on his shoulders on the ice in ways that Jonny never could. He'd always been the one to hold the fort down in the room, or maybe that was Seabs really, everything worse after Seabs' hips had finally given out, maybe Jonny had just been deluding himself.

Jonny barely knows anyone in the locker room, and what's worse, he barely likes any of the guys that have come in to replace the last good pieces they had, Jonny still too bitter to give anyone a proper chance.

"We had a good run," Pat says, and Jonny wants to shout in his face 'no, fuck that, we didn't. We could've been so much more.'

He wants a do-over, a second chance, the last six years of his life back. And maybe then Jonny could show everyone, could show Pat that he's better than this, that there's another way.

But the truth is, he isn't. Everyone knows Pat's the superior player.

They used to be Kane and Toews.

Kane and Toews

Kane

#this turned darker and in a different direction that I intended when I set out #story of my life #angst #unhappy ending #neb writes #1988 #life can't hurt me if i break my own heart first #hockey husbands #jonathan toews #patrick kane #chicago blackhawks #hockey baby

14 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 10 months

Text

Tentateur

Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.

Requested here

Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.

------

If there was something Miguel hated, was life being too generous upon those that didn't deserve it, not even the slightest. Meaning, a dickhead for a coworker and sadly, your husband.

How could such a guy like him ended up with a sweetheart like you was beyond him, The man was apathetic, little to no charm, rude and an absolute bastard.

"She's uh, my wife." He had said flatly. Your name felt like sandpaper on his tongue as it rolled out of it while introducing you to the rest at a small party at Alchemax.

Miguel had noticed the little stab of hurt crossing your angelic face. He wanted to punch him straight in the face, even some of the other couples had noticed the small tension. But you just stood there, trying to give your best smile. The golden band around your finger and the loving stare your eyes casted on your husband was a clear 'Don't even try it' for him.

But for once, Miguel didn't care.

----

He didn't exactly know how the crush on you had started. At first he thought that was just him feeling lonely and that his eyes wandered too much. But when you visited, lunch bag in hand, looking for your husband only to give him a bedazzling smile upon seeing him, and he receiving you with a tight-lipped smile, made his heart to break a little more.

"Hey" You were about to kiss him but he just backed away.

"I'm working."

"Alright, alright. See you later?"

He just gave a quick nod and put the lunchbox on his desk. There wasn't love in his goodbye kiss, Miguel noted. Once you were out, he rummaged through its contents while rolling his eyes.

He looked around and spotted Miguel with a mug on his hand.

"Hey, pal." He called and offered him.

"Want some?" Miguel seized him from head to toes but just nodded. It felt the only way that he could have a bit of you at the moment.

"Take whatever you like. Wife always goes overboard with food." Miguel took the small dessert container. It tasted divine. It only matched your own sweetness.

Lucky Bastard.

Oh he was. His eyebrows pressed together as he kept giving away all the food you had so dotingly prepared him.

----

"Can we talk about this later? You can't just keep visiting me every time you feel so"

"But you keep forgetting lunch at home, can't leave you like-"

"It's fine really, we have vending machines here." Your husband grumbled, but you couldn't help but hold the lunchbox tightly against your arms.

"I see. Sorry." You gave him a small smile, "See you later?"

"Im busy today. Might get a couple hours late. Don't wait for me."

You just nodded as Miguel jaw tensed.

How dared he?

You left.

-----

You had bumped into him at the supermarket on a weekend. Your cart was full of food, food that would end up in his hands and the rest of the team but never in your husband's mouth.

"Miguel, right?"

He nodded as he pulled some items for himself in his basket.

"Thanks for helping me." you smiled, his heart thumped harder.

"Where is..." He cleared his throat and you looked up at him.

"My husband? Oh, he said he had an extra shift today. Working in Alchemax surely is hard, I mean, I try to make it less... bad for him."

Miguel's mind was sneering, not at you but at the fake pretense of a hard working man the son of a bitch had put up with you. He knew the truth, he knew your husband only went there, did things wrong and half assed, and lately he had been flirting shamelessly with a lab technician from the upper floor.

His hatred for the man only grew, just as his admiration for you. What truly made you marry someone like him? That's the biggest question he had so far.

"I'm kind of nervous, today's our anniversary. I wanna surprise him with something" Your cheeks tinted red.

God you were killing him. He wanted to grab you gently by your shoulders, and say 'I can be better' cause of course he could, he was. You'd never have to settle for less with him.

'I appreciate you' cause he did, unlike the fool you had married. 'You'd never have to beg me' because in truth, he was already at your feet.

But you weren't his. Not yet.

-----

Sighing, Miguel put the lab test equipment away, then headed for the main office to get a couple more samples of a liquid he tried, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Legs wrapped around a man's waist, as his pants were down at his ankles. The woman shrieked once she noticed Miguel standing there with a frown and disgusted face. Miguel’s anger froze when the man next to her turned to be none but your husband.

The man recoiled to himself upon Miguel glaring holes his way.

----

His shoulder was poked by none other that the cheating pig.

"Uh, hey. Can we.... Can you, I mean-"

He stumbled on his words, Miguel towered over him, his eyes belittling him. He was bold.

"You saw nothing, yeah?"

And oh so phony. Disgusting.

Miguel just went back to his work.

It was the last straw.

-------

To his surprise you were sitting on a café, puffy and tear crusted eyes staring into nothingness, a phone on your hands. You knew.

He didn't know whether to approach you, or just leave you be. As much as he wanted you, he knew that coming at you in your most vulnerable state would not only make a bad impression oh him, but he didn't want to act like a vulture, looming over your broken heart for him to take.

He approached carefully.

"Hey"

"Miguel..."

"Are you okay?"

Your eyes avoided him.

"May I sit?"

You nodded with a hiccup and he offered you his handkerchief, fresh hot tears spilled in the soft fabric. His chest constricting at the sight.

"He cheated on me."

Much to your dismay, he knew. Of course, he wanted to tell you, but knowing how careless your husband acted, it was a matter of time for you to discover the cheating.

"I'm really sorry to hear that."

Shaking your head, you sniffed

"He has been doing this for months. Should've... saw this coming. I mean... I found so many pictures of a woman and... God"

He was pretty sure that he would punch the man next time he'd see him.

"He never came home to our anniversary, but even way before that. He just... I wasn't enough."

He frowned and took your hand softly.

"Stop. Cheating is a personal choice, guapa. You can't blame yourself for other's choices. He decided to do so, to trash away his marriage. It has nothing to do with you."

"Maybe if... I was-"

"No. You're... you're perfect. Puta madre, you're more than perfect. He's a lucky bastard just to have you. And... If I was him-"

He stopped his words and pursed his lips. You didn't need this. He'd have to be patient. You stared at him gently.

"I'll file for a divorce. He's barely coming home anyways and... that pretty much says on it's own that is over."

Miguel just nodded.

"Might celebrate it." You chuckled after wiping your tears.

"Can I ask you something?"

Again, you nodded.

"I know it's none of my business but, I'm just genuinely curious as to why you'd marry him?"

"Impulsiveness, I guess." you shrugged, your hand resting some inches away from his.

"He just proposed one day out of the blue, we had been dating for six months. Don't... don't look at me like that. I know it was stupid." you groaned.

"It's alright. You thought it was love." His hand inched closer, you nodded.

"We had our problems. A lot, actually. But... instead of speaking things like a fucking adult, he went on cheating."

"Mira, guapa... yo" He trailed off unsure of resisting any longer, his resolution to wait vanishing, "I know that this is a really bad time for you and-"

"Please... don't. Miguel I-"

"Just listen, ok? Please?" His hand finally took yours gently.

"I know this is the least of things you need right now, but... You have no idea how... how perfect you are. I always saw you visiting him, being loving, and he just threw all that away. He lost you. You're way too much for him."

Your body tensed upon sensing where this was going. Of course you weren't ignorant, you'd notice the glances he would give your way, the yearning in his eyes every time you kissed or acted like lovesick fool with your glacial husband.

" Let me show you, how would I treat you, if you were mine."

"Miguel, I don't want to-."

"Let me take you to dinner. If you don't like anything and I mean it, anything, I'll stop and leave you be. Just a dinner. Hell, you could ramble about him for hours and I'd just be happy for you to be there."

You sighed, it was a rather simple choice to say yes or no. There was nothing that actually tied you to your ex husband now. Just a very skewed moral code.

" Just a dinner. "

His heart fluttered and he nodded

"Just a dinner and I'll drop you home."

----

Miguel helped you out of his car, eyes drinking in your form. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel jealous of the dress you were wearing, snugging all your curves in the right spots, just a tiny thing to make your own beauty to stand out even more. Gorgeous, flawless, divine and perfect.

You gasped at the location

"Are you sure this is the place? It's quite expensive."

Your concern was endearing, he offered you his arm and guided you inside.

"You're worth it, princesa."

The place seemed like being inspired from an old movie, elegant, classic and of course fancy. Never in your life your ex husband would actually treat you to places like these. His card would explode, he said once. Other places were good, but this was in a whole new level of luxury.

Miguel held the chair for you, and you sat, he followed.

"This place is gorgeous." He chuckled and took your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.

"Just like you."

----

Time flew, the night had been to your surprise one of the best things that you have experienced. You had tasted things that didn't know existed, Miguel had fed you the dessert, pampering you to no end. The wine was delicious.

As night advanced, his little touches had turned more and more risqué, his fingers would take a taste of your exposed thigh skin, your hands would brush his, fiery and small caresses that sparked a silent yet mutual fire.

Once home you couldn't get your hands out of eachother. He had to be careful to not rip your dress to bits, he needed you. The wet kisses in your neck and his wandering hands all over your heated body the proof of it. When was the last time that someone touched you like this?

Not even him, the man that oathed to love you and be with you through thick and thin. A gentle rub on your clit by expert fingers made you forget about him. Lock his memory in a vault and you'd throw the key somewhere. Your hips would buck against his hand, rolling on waves after waves of pleasure.

"He didn't touch you?" You shook your head as your mouth gaped open.

"When was-"

"Shut up." you moaned breathlessly. An I don't know nor care.

Your body responded so well too him, be the need you tried to sate with your own hands, or the loneliness that had made you so desperate that had you squirming and soaked and he was only using his hands so far. With Miguel, things felt differently. He did things differently. And different was good. So so good.

His hunger for you shown and conveyed in every caress and touch he gave you. He was gentle enough for his desire to permeate your skin. You didn't feel alone. You felt needed. Loved even. There was no turning back once you discarded all the clothes on both ends.

----

Opposite to what you believed, your heart wasn't flooding with guilt. No.

There were no longer what ifs and what not constantly echoing in your brain. There was no longer that constricting sensation in your chest you always had. No more uncertainty. You were free.

Last night Miguel, whose arms cradled your form to be snuggled in his chest and his thigh hooked on your hip, hoarding you. As if fearful you'd go away, had made you experience a whole new concept of pleasure. Your body soared in bliss, you were glowing, He had given you climax after climax, making every single one of them more shattering and intense than the other.

That's all you wanted really. Feel at ease and blissful. Miguel had given you that and more. More than you actually ever though deserving. It was just a matter of time that you'd finally take him whole.

You wanted him. His kindness, his care, his love, his grumpyness during mornings, the way he cursed in spanish whenever he'd stub his toe in the nightstand. You wanted it all.

Of course you had filed for a divorce as soon as you could, your husband was more than happy to comply. He hadn't been home for a while, Miguel even told you that he had quitted. It was as if the universe was removing him from your life ever since you started with Miguel a couple months ago.

But none of that mattered. Not when he had plopped you down to bed, hands holding a firm grip in your sweaty and smooth skin, hips straddling yours and plowing into you from behind, prone bone position. His hips buried himself deep, hitting that spot over and over. He wasn't gentle, but that's just exactly how you liked it.

Before you could actually reach the stars he flipped you over, your thighs resting ontop of his. He sheathed once more inside. Your phone buzzed.

You growled in annoyance, Miguel sighed. A number you knew all too well. Finally you'd get the news you so needed to hear.

"Y-Yeah?" Miguel smirked as he held your thighs together and pushed in further, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. The little baby bump in your abdomen barely noticeable.

"Shit's done. Papers are signed."

There was a bit of rustling and the clinking of glass. By his tone, you knew he was getting drunk, celebrating. Miguel took the phone and put it on speaker.

"Ya know? I'm glad I did. Couldn't stand you, nagging all the time. But I'm a free man now, baby." His gulping, something you secretly hated, could be heard on the other line.

Miguel frowned and spreaded your legs once more.

"You there?" Your ex chuckled, "It's okay if you're crying, won't judge"

So so annoying.

A smirk appeared on your face as Miguel focused the camera on your body. He then turned the video call on. The man's face instantly fell upon watching you bouncing on a cock that surely put his to shame. Spine arching, breast jiggling and mouth spewing the lewdest of moans and needy whimpers he hsd ever heard from you. One tan hand secured you in place, preventing you from squirming too much.

"Sorry, pal." He grunted as he started to ram his hips in abandonment, making your toes curl. Your face and body said it all. The video image shaking at his thrust

"Just like that, bonita?" You choked a sob as he went balls in deep, nodding and begging him for him to not stop.

"She's busy." He hung up the call before the man could say anything and tossed your phone somewhere in the bed.

You felt so good, perfect for him, And now you were all his.

------

tag list: @primroselovessupernatural

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #t writes✨

8K notes · View notes

saeist · 10 days

Text

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

561 notes · View notes

fragileheartbeats · 14 days

Text

⌗ 𝘈𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘜𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘌 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 ( ♱ )

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language Hope you enjoy!

Many describe Aventurine as a yandere who would hurt or kidnap his darling, but I can't see it. To me, he would be one of the softest yanderes imaginable. He’s painfully aware of his feelings, knowing they’re unhealthy and twisted. He tries to control them, but it’s never enough. His love for you is too overwhelming, too consuming.

And it hurts. It hurts like a thousand knives piercing his heart, because it's killing him. It hurts because he doesn’t want to harm you, but it also hurts because he can’t bear to be without you. Each day, the struggle between his desire to be near you and his need to protect you from himself tears him apart.

He would do anything to protect you, becoming your shadow, guarding you from every danger—even himself. So, he makes the hardest choice: he avoids you. He stops talking to you, stops smiling at you, stops watching you from afar. It’s a self-imposed exile that tortures him more than any physical pain ever could.

You’re left confused and hurt. Why is he avoiding you? Just weeks ago, he was so sweet, so attentive. You thought maybe—just maybe—he had fallen for someone like you. How foolish. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Your heart aches with the sting of rejection and the bitterness of unfulfilled dreams.

If only you knew... If only you knew how deeply he loves you. He loves you so much that he’s willing to destroy himself rather than see you cry. He loves you so much that he would tear his own heart apart rather than see your smile fade. He knows himself. He knows you. He knows that if he stayed close, he would hurt you. His feelings are a storm, a dangerous maelstrom that could sweep you away.

He knows you’re too precious. He could be a monster. He would be a monster. A monster who feeds on your love and tears. A monster hungry for your body and pain. He knows it. He knows it all. And that knowledge shatters him.

Because he doesn’t want to be a monster. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to be your shining knight, always protecting you, even if you never know it. He dreams of a world where he can hold you without fear, where his love doesn’t come with the risk of destruction.

He would do anything to see your smile, even if it means sacrificing his own. Each time he sees you from a distance, his heart breaks a little more. He whispers your name in the dead of night, a prayer, a lament, a vow to keep you safe. Even if he has to carve out his own heart, he will do it, because your happiness means more to him than his own life.

In the silent agony of his solitude, he watches you move on, believing you’ll find someone better, someone worthy of your love. His heart bleeds with every step you take away from him, but he endures it. He endures it because he loves you too much to let his darkness touch you. And as he fades into the background, he finds a twisted solace in the knowledge that he’s done the right thing, even if it destroys him.

Aventurine's love is a tragic symphony, a beautiful yet sorrowful melody that will never reach your ears. It’s a love that lives in shadows, hidden from the light, forever unseen, forever aching. And as he stands alone, watching over you from afar, he whispers one last promise to the wind:

“I will always love you, even if it means I must disappear. For your happiness, for your safety, I will sacrifice everything. Even myself.”

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

633 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 8 months

Text

Seeing ex!Geto again after years

💗 すぐる

note : srry to make y'all cry 👍 this was written from a raw heart lol

summary : oh god, he still loves you. oh god. all of it comes back to him in the moment he sees you. you say his name and it feels like a gunshot wound to the chest.

warnings : angst, kinda hopeful ending, not proofread

playme : my love mine all mine

In the moment you turn to face the stranger, the world stops. Or at least the world between you and him. You always did "live in your own world" when you were dating, everyone pointed it out.

When Suguru sees you for the first time after not talking to you for... what, a year? He's so stricken. His eyes widen. His pupils dilate a bit. The color drains from his face. He doesn't know what he feels, but it's a snapping shattering breaking ruining feeling.

And when you, so shocked as you are, whisper his name with a chip in your voice "Suguru...?" It's like a gunshot wound to his heart. Bang. It kills him. And god it's only his name, isn't it crazy that the effect is so severe?

It has such a hold on him, you saying his name. He can't move; he's stationary, statue-like just like you in the middle of this cafe. He's paralyzed by your voice. The voice that used to sing him to sleep. The voice that used to talk philosophy with him at 2:32 AM on school nights. The voice that was the only thing that calmed him down during his darkest hours.

He stutters. No words come out of him or you, and yet so much is said. So much is said.

"Hey." he chokes out.

"Hey." you return.

Isn't it funny, he thinks when he gets home and slumps against the door after closing it.

How we used to speak until we ran out of breath, until we exhausted all topics possible. And then stared with pure love at each other in silence...

...and yet when you encountered each other in public by chance again, nothing but "hey"? He used to tell you that he was gonna spend his whole life with you. He used to call you baby. He used to cradle you in his arms. He used to love you vehemently. He used to kiss you until he gasped for air and laughed. He used to smile into those kisses. He used to swear he was yours, all yours. He etched your name into his skin, not figuratively; when you were teenagers you were fucking insane and giggled over the idea of etching your names into each other.

Sad. So sad. He feels his whole chest weighted, gravity pulls on his heart like it's pulling him into a grave.

While in bed, he stares at your phone number in his contacts. He blocks and unblocks. He types and deletes. He calls and ends calls. He nibbles his lip and sighs and gives up.

What would I even say...?

The image of a memory from September 21st 2019 flashes in his eyes. Your smiling face. Okinawa.

He snaps. And calls you. And it rings, rings rings rings rings rings —

"...hello? Whose number is this?" you ask, voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Fuck, that voice. That voice... is capable of murder. You kill me, baby. You kill me with your voice alone.

He makes a strangled noise. Tears roll off his cheeks. There's so many tears in fact. So many. Endless. It hurts him to shed every single one. And all his tears are for you.

"...Suguru, is that you?"

How could she know?

He chokes up and stutters, and says the quietest "hey" after clearing his throat.

It's 1:30 AM.

"You're still a night owl?"

There's tense silence............................................then you chuckle and it fucking breaks him. Devastates him. Tortures him so deliciously. Oh he missed that. Oh god he missed that. That laugh. That laugh is so beautiful to him. It's so brief and yet it nourishes his whole soul just to hear your laugh again. Oh god your laugh. Oh god... your voice.

Oh god, you.

"I am, yeah." you respond. "But you're awake too, aren't you?"

I want to hear her say my name again.

"I am..."

Please say my name again.

"You are."

Baby say my name. Say my name. Say my name.

There's silence. He knows, and you know, that the both of you are feeling flashbacks of memories crashing over the two of you like tidal waves. Memories of you and him.

Us.

"...did you ever think of me?" you ask.

"...I thought of you every day from the moment we parted."

You choke up. You laugh to cope with his revelation.

"How dramatic..." he can hear your voice grow hoarse, like you're in pain but trying to be funny. Because... it is funny, isn't it? This insanity we call reality?

"Sorry..."

"I've got to sleep... got work tomorrow."

"Me too."

"Okay..."

"Yeah."

"Hey?"

"Yeah?"

He holds his breath.

"Suguru."

His whole world... god, it's... he just... he...

"Y/n."

The two of you hang up.

A few minutes pass. Then the two of you call each other again. It's you calling him. His heart thumps hard. His chest is so tight.

"...hey."

And then... well, it's... it's just like the old days. But different. But still... that old feeling engulfs you and him during this phone call.

A phone call that starts at 1 AM and ends at 5 AM.

Dawn comes. When birds chirp.

And the two of you pass out while talking, the phone call still going. You wake up and see that he never ended the call after saying he would once you fell asleep.

2K notes · View notes

supershot73199 · 29 days

Text

Ok so this is not connected to my Big Daddy au

But here is another short fic/prompt so feel free to continue this or do your own spin.

This will be DannyxSteph as I don't see much for them (I believe their ship name is meme lords)

Steph winced in pain as she shifted in the chair she had been tied too. She was desperate as she was trying to find a way to distract the Joker or escape with a broken leg and no gear. She wouldn't have been panicked as bad as she was if she had been the only one grabbed but they grabbed the kid she had been babysitting as well, a sweet little girl only four years old named Dawn who was currently crying in her lap where she was chained while the Joker was monologing at the camera.

Supposedly it was broadcasting live on every TV in Gotham. Steph really hoped that there was someone near Dawn's father to help him through this. Danny ,which is her father's name, was a single father Stephs age (which means that he would have had to been a teenage father with Dawn's age) and his little girl was his whole life which means this could not be easy on him.

Suddenly as Joker was mid sentence everyone froze because they could hear gunshots from outside as well as a loud diesel engine before suddenly a wall collapsed as a garbage truck slammed through the wall before screeching to a halt.

Steph at first thought that it was the rest of the bat's maybe borrowing the truck to get in faster and it seemed like Joker had the same thought.

"Well now I never expected this of you Bat's couldn't use the skyli- you aren't one of the bat's."

And he was right because stepping out of the truck-turned-battering-ram was Danny and he didn't even spare a second thought to the Joker as he set his eyes on Dawn and Steph and called out in a relieved tone of voice. "Dawn! Steph! You're ok thank the Ancients."

"Daddy!" Dawn had stopped crying at the sound of her father's voice the tension in her body fading away with that childlike certainty that her father would make everything better. However Joker not one to be ignored reached out and grabbed Danny's arm before speaking.

"Now the shows not over there Daddy but thank you for adding a new hos-"

"Fuck off bozo!" Danny didn't even slow using the same hand Joker grabbed he shoved him off sending the clown stumbling back a few steps as Danny finished crossing the room before quickly cutting the ropes with a pocket knife (and Steph was not blushing at the strength he had to have to cut the sturdy rope in one smooth movement no siree) with Dawn quickly leaping into her Dads arms as soon as the ropes fell away.

Steph turned to the Joker who seemed stunned hand on his chest where he was shoved seemingly shocked that someone had done that with no fear. Turning back to the father daughter pair she started quickly speaking in a low voice hopping not to break the trance the clown prince of crime was under.

"Quick you need to take Dawn and run my legs broken so you need to leave me here the Bat's will be here soon ill be fin-"

"He can't hurt you anymore." Danny's voice was calm and steady as he interrupted Steph. He looked her in the eye before looking pointedly at the had that he shoved the Joker with opening it to reveal something that made Steph gasp.

A human heart still beating though it stopped as she looked and the moment it did she heard a thud as the Joker fell to the floor limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

"Is that .." Steph couldn't even finish the question. But Danny still nodded before tossing it unceremoniously to the floor.

"Nobody threatens the people I care about and gets away with it. He forfeit his existence the moment he grabbed the two of you."

Steph felt like her own heart was about to fall out onto the floor the combination of the Joker a bogeyman who had terrorized Gotham almost as long as she had been alive just dead, dying without so much as a whimper much less a bang. Done in, not by any bat or caped crusader but a father who only wanted to save his daughter. As well as the implication that Danny cared for her too that he killed the nightmare of every kid in Gotham for her sake as much as his daughters.

Danny had separated from Dawn after placing one more kiss on her head and whispered comfort that Steph was to shocked to pay much attention to before quickly coming to check on her injury.

"Looks like a clean break so it should heal fast. I just hate that you got hurt protecting Dawn even if I'm more grateful than you can imagine that you tried to protect her."

Steph smiled "We've known each other for months now and I love that little girl as well. No way was I going to let someone touch her without a fight."

Danny looked up at her from his position next to her chair with a look that Steph couldn't describe before standing up.

"Here I'll carry you to one of the ambulances I hear coming this way."

As he bent to scoop her up Steph got his attention as she got ready to do something impulsive. As he turned his head toward her Steph grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss. Danny froze against her before returning it the pair only stopped when they heard a giggle.

"Daddy and Stephie are kissing! Does that mean Stephie is my Momma now?" Dawn's voice snapped the two out of it but before Danny could say anything Steph beat him to it.

"Maybe one day Daddy has to take me on a date first and we'll see where things go. Say a movie this Friday?"

Steph knew she was being bold but by God she was not letting this absolute dork start to spiral she knew from the amount of time they spent together as neighbors that Danny had a surprising low self esteem and would probably convince himself she only kissed him out of gratitude or something when in reality she has wanted to do this for months and just didn't know how to initiate.

"That sounds wonderful I'm sure miss Chen downstairs would be able to watch Dawn if I ask." Danny's blushing face only made Steph giggle as he responded. But as he lifted her she noticed the Jokers camera with the recording light still on and she knew she was going to get so much shit from the other bat's so she decided to share the embarrassment.

"Not so sure you'll have to ask seeing as everyone in Gotham just saw everything on their screens.

Danny who had just picked Steph up in a princess carry without hurting her leg froze before letting out a groan.

"Oh I'm never going to live this down."

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #meme lord ship #stephanie brown #dannyxsteph #minor gore #but its the joker

443 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 3 months

Note

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

*eats your words*

no but seriously, your writing has me kicking my feet when I’m supposed to be typing an essay 😞‼️ I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for the companions x monk! Tav who, when being confessed to, Tav responds with “it’ll pass”?

basically fleabag inspired 😍‼️ please and thank you! stay safe n warm 🔫

OH GOD HEARTBREAKING i tried to make it have a happy ending tho!!! enjoy! and I'm so glad that you enjoy my writing! (mild nsfw mentions)

writing as if you're saying this because you think you wouldn't be the best option for their future, one way or another, and want to try and soften the blow for them by replying like this. you only want them to be happy and you're scared it can't be with you.

Astarion

you cup his face, and the look in your eyes is so, so sad.

you think perhaps your simple nomadic lifestyle will not be enough for him. you love him, you do, but he needs someone more modern. more cosmopolitan.

when you tell him it will pass you see a myriad of expressions cross his face: sadness, confusion, anger... but finally, resolve.

he takes your hand in his, firmly.

"my heart. I know when things will pass, and when they won't. my love for you is not some trifle, a fashion to be abandoned like it would go out of style. I mean it. I can make my own decisions, and I have decided where I want to be. It's with you."

he reaches out to embrace you. you're surprised, but let him do it anyway, and you bury your face into his neck to hide your emotions.

maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you hold him tighter than ever that night.

Gale

you're worried he is too smart for you. that he will get bored of you, and the idea breaks your heart.

you tell him "it'll pass" when he confesses because you're scared.

seems actually offended that you'd tell him his love for you might be fleeting.

"there are things which will span the ages. stories, gods, heroes. my love for you is one of them. I do not confess that lightly. you are a beacon of hope in my life, love... and that will never fade."

goes on for some time afterwards about how committed he is and how much he loves you, until eventually you accept that he's not going anywhere.

bloody wizards, so good with their words...

fall asleep that night after having the most intimate lovemaking session, all about feeling each other's breath and heartbeats.

he is here to stay, forever.

Wyll

wyll deserves someone amazing. someone who could handle his life if he became duke, and you're scared you'll let him down.

when you tell him 'it'll pass' he is hurt, and leaves the conversation for a moment. you think perhaps it is for the best. you don't need this to cause any more pain.

but later he comes to find you and asks if he can have a private moment. you find out he wasn't hiding from you but preparing: he has a little intimate picnic set up where you can sit and be alone.

when you're comfortable he tells you about how deep his love is, how fate has thrown you together.

"there is nothing about how i feel about you that could pass. nothing."

to prove his point, he slips to his knee, and that is when he proposes.

you're overcome with emotion. you have to accept how committed to you he is, and work out if you deserve something as fierce as his love.

there are tears in your eyes when you accept. you never think his love will pass again.

Karlach

probably the hardest one to say this too. together, your future is so uncertain. it will be easier to break it off here rather than maim both of you.

gets angry. in fact, goes into a rage. tears up the surroundings, and for a moment you're taken aback--

but then she turns and she's sobbing, stuck at the midpoint between being apoplectic and brokenhearted.

"you don't get to decide that for me! you don't! you're the first person i've loved... I've touched... I've felt anything for, for a fucking decade! when i feel this, it doesn't fade! how dare you think about yourself like that? as if you're some sort of phase?"

eventually she calms down enough but bursts into tears instead. you go to hold her and she embraces you so tightly that the wind is knocked from your body.

"i love you. i won't leave you. don't leave me." her voice is tiny.

how could you ever say no? how could you ever doubt her?

when the two of you are in Avernus, you're reminded of this moment, and so glad she fought against it. you'd trade this away for nothing.

Lae'zel

would she want someone like you? long term? she's so brave, so fierce. what if you're not good enough? what if your relationship develops only for you to let her down?

she gets angry too, but quieter.

is furious that you would question her affection.

"githyanki do not give their devotion lightly. the fact that you think my love for you could pass makes me wonder how well you know me."

it turns into an argument where you try and explain your side, and she's angry at you for thinking this way.

eventually it descends into angrily making out. some fierce lovemaking. her saying how much she loves you, possesses you, between every bite and kiss.

you lie in the afterglow. she says she will not leave, and pretty much tells you that you won't either. you agree, and tangle your hand with hers.

Shadowheart

tries to hide how hurt she is.

yes, Shar is the lady of loss, but the idea of losing you... of not having you in her life? unthinkable.

you only tried to tell her it will pass so that, if she wishes to become a dark justiciar, she will have no lingering attachment to you after.

and yet...

it is blasphemy for her, but she refuses to let you go.

"no. i won't allow it. i can't believe this will fade between us. you are the most precious thing to me. stay."

you're weak for her, end up tumbling into bed, reconfirming your love for each other.

you never quite believe that this is forever until she changes her hair, embraces selune. then your heart is full of joy. and it is full of Shadowheart.

#shadowheart x tav #shadowheart x reader #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #my writing #request

429 notes · View notes

spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

Text

Widower Astarion Headcanons

Ok, we wanted pain - I bring you pain. @astarionsbeloved @wickedwitchofthewilds @sleepykitty21 @starlight-ipomoea

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion isn't an idiot; he knows you are mortal, a topic you've discussed before.

Jokingly, he suggested you find a vampire lord, but even if one were found, Astarion would never allow you to turn into a vampire.

"It hurts, it's painful. The existence of a vampire is miserable. I will never do this to you."

The price of mortality is death.

You made him promise not to step into the sunlight and to keep living, carrying memories of you into the future.

You die as you always wanted: in a glorious battle, or safe and comfy in your bed, or brought home by Astarion to a place you grew up in.

You die with no regrets, sorrows, or complaints.

Astarion is numb; all the feelings he learned how to express are gone with your last breath.

He dissociates; it's not him, not now, not real—he is somewhere else.

He hides in the shadows, safe in the darkness and lonely.

Unfortunately, Astarion has never learned how to be alone; you never left him on his own for a long time.

He realizes he can't meditate; there is a mental block preventing him from doing so in your absence.

It's even worse since he can't give himself a break.

Eventually, some friends of yours give him a Potion of Angelic Slumber. He sleeps for a few days in a row, without dreams and nightmares.

When he wakes up, the first thing he does is look for you, and then he realizes you're gone.

In this moment, Astarion breaks down, crying and cursing in Elven and Common.

His back hurts as if there are flesh wounds; the cold grip of darkness holds his undead heart. The tears burn the crimson eyes.

He mourns, grieves, wishes to be dead, but the given promise and the innate desire to survive prevent him from going into the sun.

For the first few years, he lives as a hermit in your shared house, starving himself by not hunting and spending months on your side of the bed without moving at all.

It's not life; it's an existence, miserable and hopeless when he imagines you alive.

A wake-up call is sudden but almost divine.

Deep in his thoughts, he finds himself in his own grave in Baldur's Gate, seeing you six feet above him as young as you were back during the tadpole adventure.

"I didn't get you out of this grave to let you bury yourself. Come on, you promised to me to live! Then, live! This is my last gift."

He wakes up, starving and cold, goes up and leaves for hunting. He hunts for a few days, satiating himself with animal and sentient beings' blood.

As his mind returns to him, Astarion washes and repairs his clothes, brushes his hair, makes himself look decent.

He ravages through your things, collecting them carefully in one place. You wouldn't want a shrine, so he sells the things he won't be able to use anymore.

He puts on your wedding ring (now he has two identical rings) and also a necklace you always liked.

He re-sews one of your gowns into a shirt; now, it feels like you are still with him.

Astarion leaves his first forever home and starts his own journey, taking the role of a sole adventurer - a monster hunter, a protector of the weak. He has always had this heroic side in him, just never admitted.

The most difficult thing is to stay alone; people praise him for saving someone from a monster, but they fear mingling with a vampire.

Sometimes, Astarion cries in his tent, cursing the evil gods for taking the only good thing he ever had.

He constantly talks to himself, imagining you standing beside him.

He actually enjoys these one-sided monologues because he can pretend you are still here.

Years pass, memories of the happy life fade. Astarion joins groups of adventurers here and there but always feels off.

Eventually, he finds the strength to live up to his promise, to enjoy what he has.

He explores places he has never been to, does things he has never done, and hears stories he has never heard.

He makes friends, mostly among long-living creatures. "Oh, my young vampire friend! It's been a while!" A wizard elf greets him with open arms. "I am 400 years older than you, idiot," Astarion chuckles and returns a hug.

Most importantly, he preserves the memory about you, paying bards and storytellers, talking about you at campfires, and putting you as an example of kindness and bravery.

Once, Astarion hears a song, "The One Who Saved Baldur's Gate." The motive and words are nice, but the more he listens to it, the more in shock he is.

This song known to every decent bard in Swords Coast is about you, a distant memory, a long-forgotten story.

He has fulfilled your promise, made sure you live in people's hearts. This day is bittersweet; he cries his eyes out, listening to that song over and over again.

But he feels happy, the first time in years.

With decades to pass, Astarion creates the Blood Guild - a union of vampires and dhampirs who prefer to hunt monsters rather than be ones. They also keep an eye on other vampires who are a danger to mortals, especially those who make spawns and thralls out of innocent victims.

Having immortal undead friends feels nice; having friends who understand his issues, too.

He finds himself in the position of a mentor; vampires come to him for advice and emotional support.

Then he meets a person, a runaway spawn, angry with what happened to them, determined to do whatever it takes to break their chains. Astarion agrees to help; they constantly bicker about every single thing—views on life, personal experiences, shared interests.

This new person is annoying, obnoxious, brave, and lovable. Suddenly Astarion realizes he doesn't want to stay in his tent alone; he doesn't want to speak to himself anymore.

The long-forgotten feeling of loving someone aches in his undead heart, but now it's not his turn to confess.

"You know, I've been manipulating you into helping me. I am sorry. if you want, I will go away."

"You are a good person, Astarion. No one is like you. But you deserve honesty and something real."

Astarion smiles back and hugs this person.

This relationship is different; the runaway spawn is nothing like you, different in every way possible—personality, appearance, behavior, views on life, everything.

At first, there is profound guilt, as if he betrays your memory by having another romantic relationship.

They talk, sharing the darkest and saddest parts of their immortal lives—crimes they had to commit, lives they lost.

Eventually, Astarion tells them about you—how wonderful you were, how kind, how brave, how much you meant to him. His new love smiles and takes away a strand curl from his face.

"So, this is the person I must thank for you?".

He helps his new love to break the chains by killing the vampire lord.

Returning back, Astarion starts talking about the future.

Adventures? Of course! His partner is also a spawn, they need healing and freedom the same way he needed many years ago.

And then - who knows? Life is full of cruel wonders. Especially, for immortals.

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

842 notes · View notes

zapreportsblog · 11 months

Text

Baby Come Back

➥ summary: miles misses his girl even though he won’t admit to to himself or anyone else, but when he sees her starting to move on without him, naw that settles it. It’s time to win his baby girl back

➥ a/n: this was inspired by @laaailuh fic “I Miss You”

The tension in the air was palpable as Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, and his girlfriend (y/n) stood face to face in his small apartment. Their voices were raised, and emotions ran high, as they found themselves entangled in a heated argument.

"I can't do this anymore, Miles!" (y/n) exclaimed, her eyes filled with frustration and hurt. "You've been distant, shutting me out, and taking your anger out on me. It's not fair!"

Miles clenched his fists, trying to find the right words to express the turmoil inside him. "I know I've been a mess since my dad died," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But I'm trying to deal with it in my own way."

(y/n) took a step back, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. "I understand that you're going through a lot, but you can't just push me away and expect me to stick around," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I need to be with someone who can share their pain with me, not shut me out."

Miles felt a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he had been unfair to (y/n). He loved her deeply, but the darkness of his grief had consumed him, making it difficult for him to see beyond his own pain.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I need you, (y/n). Please, don't leave."

(y/n)'s eyes welled up with tears, torn between her love for Miles and the toll his emotional distance was taking on her. "I love you too, Miles, but I can't keep being hurt like this," she said, her voice choked with sadness. "You need to confront your grief and find a way to heal, for both of us."

As the words hung in the air, the weight of their unresolved issues seemed to crush them both. (y/n) turned away, unable to bear the pain in Miles' eyes, while he struggled to find the strength to let her go.

In the following days, the silence between them grew heavy and suffocating. They tried to carry on with their lives separately, but their hearts longed for the comfort and love they once shared.

One evening, as the sun set over the city, (y/n) made her decision. She couldn't keep waiting for Miles to heal on his own. She knew that it was time to face the truth and let go, even if it broke her heart.

She went to Miles' apartment, her footsteps echoing with each heavy step. The door opened, and Miles stood before her, his eyes red and swollen, a reflection of the pain he carried.

"I can't keep pretending that everything is okay," (y/n) said softly, her voice wavering. "I need to put myself first, and that means letting go."

Tears streamed down Miles' cheeks as he nodded, his heart aching with the weight of their decision. "I don't want to lose you, but I know I've been pushing you away," he said, his voice choked with regret. "I'm so sorry for hurting you."

They stood there, facing each other, knowing that their love wasn't enough to mend the broken pieces of their hearts. Their bond had been strong, but the weight of grief had shattered it.

With one last embrace, (y/n) turned away, her heart breaking as she walked away from the man she loved. The tears flowed freely as she left behind the life they once shared, but she knew that it was the right decision for both of them.

In the days that followed, the void left by their breakup was a constant reminder of the love they had lost. Miles faced his grief head-on, seeking counseling and support from friends and family, determined to find a way to heal.

And though they had parted ways, the memories of their love lingered in the corners of their hearts. The road ahead was uncertain, but they both knew that their journey towards healing had only just begun.

•••

In the days that followed the breakup, Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, became even more withdrawn and closed off. The pain of losing (y/n) weighed heavily on his heart, and he found solace in isolating himself from his friends and emotions. He had always been good at hiding his feelings behind the mask of the prowler, but now it seemed like he was hiding from himself too.

At school, Miles tried to maintain a façade of indifference, a mask that he wore to shield himself from the questions and concerns of his friends. As he walked through the halls, he could feel the worried glances of his classmates, but he pretended not to notice.

During lunchtime, others approached him cautiously, their concern evident in their expressions. "Hey, Miles, are you doing okay?" Stu asked, his voice soft and caring.

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to deflect their worries. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied with a forced smile. "It just didn't work out with (y/n), you know? It's whatever."

Stu exchanged a concerned glance with Anthony, realizing that Miles was trying to hide his pain. "You sure, man? We're here for you if you need to talk," he said gently.

Miles nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to share the turmoil inside him. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine," he insisted, avoiding eye contact with his friends. "I've got other stuff to focus on."

Just then the bell rang signaling that it was time for class.

As Miles sat in his classroom, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions, he couldn't help but notice that (y/n) was just a few seats ahead of him. His heart clenched as he saw someone pass her a note discreetly.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the exchange. He could feel a pang of jealousy stirring within him, a reminder of the connection they once shared.

Trying to focus on the lesson, he fought the urge to look again. But as the minutes ticked by, his mind kept wandering back to the note. He couldn't shake the feeling of being left out, of no longer being a part of her life.

When the class finally ended, Miles gathered his belongings, but his feet felt heavy as he made his way towards the exit. He knew he should be moving on, but seeing (y/n) with someone else reminded him of what he had lost.

As he walked past her, he couldn't help but glance in her direction. Their eyes met briefly, and a mix of emotions washed over him. He wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but his pride held him back.

In the bustling school hallway, Miles mustered the courage to call out to (y/n) as she was making her way to her next class. "Hey, (y/n)!" he said, his voice a mix of nervousness and hope.

She turned around, surprised to see him, but she managed a polite smile. "Hey, Miles. What's up?" she asked, her guard up, unsure of what he wanted to talk about.

"I was wondering if we could meet up after school," he said, his eyes earnest. "There's something I really need to talk to you about."

(y/n) hesitated, her heart still guarded, but she knew that avoiding the conversation wouldn't resolve anything. "Miles, I don't think there's a need for us to talk," she replied, her voice measured. "It's all been said, hasn't it?"

Miles took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words he wanted to say. "Please, cariño" he implored, "I just need a chance to explain and apologize. There's so much I want to say, and I can't keep pretending like everything's okay."

Her resolve softened as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. With a small sigh, she relented. "Okay, fine," she said, "but just this once, and only because I think we both deserve some closure."

•••

After school, they met at a nearby park, finding a quiet bench to sit on. The air between them was tense, but there was an unspoken understanding that they needed to have this conversation.

Miles began, his words slow and heartfelt. "I'm sorry,cariño, for shutting you out and being distant," he said, his voice tinged with remorse. "I've been dealing with so much since my dad's passing, and I didn't know how to handle it. But that's not an excuse for treating you the way I did."

She listened attentively, the wall around her heart slowly starting to crumble. "I know it was hard for you," she said softly, "but it was hard for me too. I felt like you pushed me away, and it hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Miles replied, his gaze downcast. "I never meant to hurt you, (y/n). I just... I didn't know how to handle my emotions, and I thought if I pushed you away, it would protect you from my pain."

Her heart softened as she saw the vulnerability in his eyes. "You don't have to protect me, Miles," she said gently. "I wanted to be there for you, to help you through your grief."

He reached out and took her hand, his grip gentle yet pleading. "I wish I had let you in," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I had talked to you about everything, instead of shutting you out."

Silence settled between them, the weight of their emotions palpable. (y/n) finally spoke, her voice tinged with sadness. "I miss you too, mi amor," she admitted, her eyes welling up with tears. "I miss us, but I don't know if we can go back to how things were."

Miles nodded, understanding the complexity of their situation. "I don't expect things to go back to normal right away," he said. "I just hope that we can find a way to move forward, even if it's not together."

Her heart ached, torn between the love she still felt for him and the uncertainty of their future. "I need time to heal too," she said softly. "But I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

And so, beneath the setting sun, they started to open up to each other, their words filled with both pain and hope. As they talked, they realized that they needed to be honest about their feelings, even if it meant facing the difficult truths they had been avoiding.

Their conversation was raw and emotional, but it was a start. A start towards healing, towards understanding, and towards finding closure. Whether their paths would converge again or lead in different directions, they both knew that they had grown from their experiences and that they would always cherish the love they once shared.

2K notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 2 months

Note

I'm dying for there to be a fic where the reader is Stark's daughter and tells Peter that he has to watch her, Peter does it and the more he does it the more they connect the two and end up dating in secret, but one day reader discovers it and then angs to fluff??? Would you do it, i love how you write yes and thank you

*cleaning out my inbox/drafts* this is an old one but i loved it so much mcu peter HAD to make a comeback for this. // a little different than what you asked.

you're livid and peter's scared.

your dad had shared a new piece of information in passing but it brought everything crumbling down. peter, your boyfriend, wasn't who you thought he was.

the person you thought was honest and gentle was really just a lying snake. he can wear manipulation well. even now, with wide eyes and a panicked grin you can't picture him hurting you like this. but you can feel it.

'hi, baby.' he knows you're mad, he's trying to approach this calmly.

'you're a fucking liar.' you just brought everything down to a negative level, peter feels his shoulders slump. he doesn't know what he did or how he lied. 'i'm sorry.' whatever he did caused venom to be directed his way and he doesn't like it at all.

'no you're not. you're a filthy, lying scumbag.' he's not trying to invalidate your feelings, but you're being really fucking mean to him and he really doesn't like this treatment from you. he's never been so hurt in his life, the person he loved with everything in him, can't get enough insults out their mouth.

'why are you talking to me like this?' he sounds pitiful and for a moment your heart breaks for him, you know how much you're hurting him right now but he broke your trust.

'my dad told me. i can't believe i fell for your bullshit, or was it all him? you're just some little drone for my daddy?' it was a blur of sarcasm and betrayal, and peter truly has no idea what he's done.

'what did i do? please tell me what i did.' he's pleading, he'd do anything to make it right. you scoff, everything seems so fake.

'my dad planted you into my life and you wormed your way into being my boyfriend.'

peter freezes, his stiff shoulders are your answer. 'it's true?' your voice cracked, the deception has your insides curling. you thought peter would deny it and kiss you a hundred times and tell you he wasn't that type of guy.

but he is and he did it.

'peter, it's true?' why do you want to cry? you were the one that was swindled. it hurts because you trusted him, it hurts because you thought he loved you just as much as you did him.

there's a new feeling, it's rage. you shared so much of yourself with him for nothing, you wasted time on him. you move on your own accord and you push your weight into his shoulders, trying to throw him back, it's useless. he doesn't even budge, but he still lets you try with everything in you.

'you're piece of shit! i... i fucking hate you!' the word has tears pricking your eyes. peter felt his entire heart shatter, he thinks you just told him the worst thing he's ever heard.

'i fucking loved you, peter. you were my everything. i loved you with everything in me, and it was all built on a giant lie. why would you do that to me?'

loved, loved, loved, loved.

peter goes numb, there's nothing to fight for, you didn't love him anymore. you push on his chest, he feels nothing, he moves with your motion. 'fucking say something!'

he blinks, he says the first thing on his mind. the only thing on his mind. 'i love you.' it enrages you even further, does he think it's a joke? 'fuck you, peter.' and with that, you turn to leave his room, his house, him.

peter might've messed up but he can't let you leave without trying to save this. he knows he fucked up. 'wait! don't leave yet, just let me explain it, okay? then you can go back to hating me.' the ending sentence felt like battery acid on his tongue.

you stand still. you’ve been hurt by him but you still love him no matter what you say, and that feels like a kick in the chest to yourself. if he can, you'll let him try and dig himself out of this hole.

'this, what we have, it's real. everything i did as your boyfriend was real. i love you with everything in me, you know i do.' you don't look like you believe it, it looks like you think he's just telling you what you want to hear.

'your dad...' peter doesn't know how he got here, he didn't expect it all to come out. 'look, i've always liked you, okay? you know that, we've talked about how when i first met you i was head over heels for you. your dad knew that too and he hated it. but then you were all sad about your friend so he suggested i just... befriend you.'

'suggested or told?' peter swallows hard, this is tricky even for him. 'i don't know. i just had the opportunity to talk to you and i took it. all your dad did was give me an in, that's it. everything else was all me, i promise.'

you sigh heavily, it sounds like something your dad would do. 'then why wouldn't you tell me this when we started dating?' peter gestures to you and all your fury. 'i didn't want this to happen. i didn't want you to doubt me. us. i didn't want you to doubt us.'

'so he told you to be my friend. nothing else?' peter winces, there's more to it and you're not sure if you want to hear it. 'okay, maybe he said to keep an eye out for you.' your face drops, peter's quick to keep talking. 'but i heard that as befriend! how could i keep you safe if we're not friends, right?'

it's not working, you seem more sad than mad now and peter prefers your anger. 'and when he saw how happy you were with me it changed and he gave me the go ahead to ask you out.' you'll bite your tongue on that one, you know it's because peter's a stickler for a father's blessing.

'when did he back out of the picture, peter?' the question un-eases him, and you have a feeling you know why. you pray it's not what you think, but it is.

'a couple months into dating.' peter jumps to continue, 'he never told me to date you, he just said it was a good thing and he was happy i was keeping you busy and making you happy. he gave me a little money for dates, but that's it, i swear.'

peter was taking money from him?

'so, while i was falling in love with you, my dad was paying you off? nice, peter. that's a real nice guy act.'

peter knows how it sounds, that's why he felt like he couldn't spit it out. the more time went on, the less he felt the need to share. 'that's not what it was, all he wanted was for me to be your friend, i promise. i'm the one that went a step further, i'm the one that wanted to be your boyfriend.'

you roll your eyes, how dumb does he think you are? 'of course you wanted to be my boyfriend, you were getting paid.' you couldn't be further from the truth, peter felt bad taking his money but it was to keep you happy and that's all he ever wanted to do.

he's failing pretty hard right now.

'no, that's not what it was. i was the one that planned everything, everything we built was because of me.'

'right. and he was just sponsoring it?'

peter's never fought harder for anything in his life. you were on the line. 'he pulled out when it started to get real. he said it was on me to take care of you and i did. i have been. i'm not lying, your dad might have put you into my life but every single part of me loving you was real and all me.'

you want to believe him. you want him to be telling the truth. and maybe if it all started because your dad wanted him to look out for you, you could look past it. but for him to double down and start taking money when you were calling him boyfriend makes you feel sick.

peter knows it's not working. 'baby, please-' you cut him off, 'don't you dare call me that, we're done. it's over. hope it was worth it.'

panic fills him, he suddenly feels hot. for a second peter sees black dots, he swears he's about to pass out. 'no, no, no. don't do this, don't do this to me.'

how did peter go from trying to salvage it to ruining it beyond repair?

your arms cross over your chest, it's a way to guard your hurting heart. it's not fair. you gave him so much of yourself just to learn it was all built on a lie, you can't choose between breaking out into a sob or wanting to punch his face.

'i really loved you, peter.'

'you still do. i know you do. you can't just stop loving me out of nowhere. i know i hurt you and i know i broke your trust but you can't stop loving me.'

you feel empty inside. peter was right, he hurt you. he hurt you big time. 'i'm going to try.' you can see how wet his eyes are, if he drops a single tear you'll go back on every word of yours. you have to leave and stand up for yourself because if you don't it'll be proof that he can treat you however he wants.

'please don't do this. i'll do anything, i'll... i'll...' he's drawing blanks, for the first time ever peter doesn't know how to fix anything. 'please don't leave me. i'll be better, i'll be who you need. i love you so much, please don't do this to me.' peter's grasping at straws and you feel your chest rattle when you tell him you're leaving.

peter drops to his knees, he's begging. 'i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. i should've told you when we first started dating- no! i should've never done it, i should've told your dad to... to fuck off and, and, i'm so sorry! please don't break up with me, please.'

you've lost all edge, you feel just as broken.

'goodbye, peter.'

----

it's been three days of reckoning and you're in a terrible mood. the blame has shifted, after you dumped peter and returned home to your bed you thought long and hard about it and realized that peter would've never done it if your dad didn't get involved.

if your dad didn't drop peter in as an informant, you wouldn't be here. if your dad didn't tell peter to buddy up with you, he'd still be your boyfriend.

you don't hate peter anymore, you're just sad. instead, you hate your dad. you hate how he ruined everything you had and ruined all your trust in him. you've refused to speak to him for three days, this morning he had enough of it when you slammed your door in his face.

he promptly allowed himself in and looked around your disheveled room, he knows something's wrong. 'woah. easy on, teen angst. talk to your dad, what's going on?'

you pretend he's not in the room with you. 'is something wrong? do you want me to call your boyfriend?' of course he wants peter over, he wants him to spy on you so your dad can corner him and sweat him out until peter spills.

you know how peter is and your dad took advantage of that.

'i broke up with peter. leave me alone.' there's a ring of silence, your dad is in shock. it would explain the sudden excuses on why peter can't come over, it would also explain your sour attitude.

'why would you do that?' because of him. because your dad had to get involved in your love life. 'because of you. you planted him in my life and paid him off to date me. i hate you.'

'is that what he told you?'

you don't know why you're talking to him. 'basically.' your dad sighs and sits on the edge of your bed, you resist the burning urge to kick his back.

'is this about what i said the other day? honey, i didn't ask him to date you and i didn't pay him off. i paid him when he helped me redo the lab. he must've gotten confused on the reasoning.'

you think about it. the lab was renovated right around the time you started dating and was finished right around when you became official. and peter did the brunt of heavy lifting and furniture shifting. he even had to reschedule a date because he was going to stay up all night to wrap up all the cords and label them to keep track.

'and for what it's worth, the kid's always liked you. i saw it on his face the second you shook his hand and i told him absolutely not. but the more i thought about it the more i thought why not?'

you're not saying anything but you're holding on to every word he says. 'i got tired of you moping around the place because of that brat you called a friend so i suggested he keep an eye out for you and be a friend if you needed one. honey, i knew what i was doing. i knew what was going to happen.'

peter left a lot of this out. a lot.

'he said you told him it was his job to take care of me now.' your dad laughs. 'yeah, i did. when he came to me shaking and halfway begging to let him be your boyfriend, i told him that he would have to grow a pair and take care of you.'

your dad turns and gives you a light smile, he pats your leg over the blanket. 'i don't think any part of it was a lie, kiddo. i just gave him the greenlight to do what he wanted to do the second he met you.'

tears sting your eyes, you think about how crushed peter looked. you imagine the tear in his heart was far greater than yours. you heard something and made your own assumption and peter can't back himself to save his life so you walked away from it entirely.

you were so mean to him. you belittled him and did the worst possible thing you could do. you told him you hated him. you blink fast to clear your eyes, tears start falling instead. you've been so mad you haven't been able to process what you did but it's hitting now and you feel broken.

'i told him i hated him. i've never said that to him, he was so sad. i was so mean to him, dad. i was calling him names and...' your breath catches, you feel like your throat’s closing up. 'i think i broke his heart.'

you curl up, you want to be left alone, you want to punish yourself. instead your dad tells you to 'get your sorry ass up and go apologize to your boyfriend.' it's a very short pity party.

---

you rushed his front door. you felt like the longer you waited the closer your window closed. you stupidly blocked his number so now you're unaware if he's tried to reach out at all. you're knocking so hard your knuckles hurt.

'oh my good-' you push past may. it's incredibly rude and you'll have to add her to your apology train but the first and most important stop is peter.

'where's-'

peter steps out from his room, he looks at you cautiously and doesn't get halfway through your name before you're running to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. it's a full bodied hug.

'i'm so sorry and i love you. i love you so so much, i love everything about you. i love your voice in the morning, i love how you always give me an extra kiss at night to repel bed bug bites, i love how you never give me shit when i don't bring a jacket to the movies even though i'm gonna steal yours because i always get cold. i love how you always make me a bowl of cereal after we-'

'may.'

'-watch a movie. i love how you grew your hair out because i asked you. i love how you always ask to kiss me first. i love how you love me.' you squeeze him tighter.

'i told you i hated you and that couldn't be further from the truth. i love you so much and i was so mean to you and i just don't want you to think i hate you. i could never hate you, peter. i should've never said that, i can love you and be mad at you at the same time.'

peter quietly shushes you, it settles the bubble of anxiety in your chest. he's calming you down, he's doing what he always does when you're inches away from a panic attack. peter gently pulls at your hands around his neck to move them to his waist, it's instantly more comfortable, you're able to bury yourself into him.

'i don't want to be broken up anymore.' your voice cracks, you don't know what you'll do if he says no. you're spiraling, the consequences of your actions are falling into place. you're going to lose him.

peter pulls you back into reality. he always knows when you're too far gone, you can't imagine life without him anymore. 'calm down for a second, okay? i'm not going anywhere. i'm right here.' he turns his head back to his room, may's doing that thing where she pretends she doesn't see or hear what's going on but she's actually holding on to every word.

'wanna go lay down?' you nod fast and pull away to tug him into his own room, peter swears he sees a frown on his aunt's face. the second he shuts his door you start in on round two, you stop when he cups your face and softly shushes you again.

'please stop panicking.'

'i'll panic until you take me back. i should've never broken up with you, peter. i was yelling at my dad and then he told me what actually happened and we were both wrong and now you hate me.'

peter's eyes are shining, he's getting a little amusement from your distress and you allow it. it's the least you could give him after breaking him down into nothing.

'i told you to stop blocking me when you get mad at me.' you want to hit yourself in the face, you knew you missed out on something. 'never again, i promise. i can't do this again, peter. if i'm about to have a panic attack over something that's a non-issue i'll hate myself forever.'

'you really want to hate someone, don't you?' you seal your mouth closed. he's right, you've been saying it too much. even if he said it with a tilt in his voice you take it seriously.

'since someone is a little reactionary, i'll show you my phone.' peter paws at his back pocket before you have his phone in your hands, sure enough there's five missed messages.

the first one was an hour after you dumped him.

'upon further consideration, i reject our break up. you promised me that you'd never break up with me in the heat of an argument. not after the charity auction thing.'

'therefore, we are not broken up until you come over and do it at a later time.'

'love- your boyfriend <3'

'ps. even though you blocked me, i know you don't hate me.'

'you're just mad and you're soooo gonna regret that later.'

peter's right, you do regret it. your eyes are glossy when you reread the texts over and over, even at your worst he loves you. 'so, you're still my boyfriend?'

soft pokes are placed at your sides, you squirm with his touch. 'duh. i just stayed away until you figured it out.' you pout at him, your attack deemed unjustified.

'he wasn't paying you to take me on dates. he was paying you for renovating the lab. that's why the payments stopped after we started dating.'

peter never took money from your dad and your dad never employed peter. he nods slowly. 'oh, yeah, that would make a lot of sense.' you reach forward for another hug and speak into his chest.

'i'm sorry for being mean and trying to break up with you.'

'it's okay, baby.' you melt at a kiss on your hairline. 'you didn't mean it.'

'i promise i didn't.' you feel like a dog with a tail between their legs, there's not enough ways to say how sorry you are. 'i love you, petey.'

another kiss. 'i love you, too.'

he feels so warm, he feels like home. for the first time in three days you feel comfortable, you press into your boyfriend and he doesn't budge. you love how sturdy he is, you love how you can nearly hurt him with your love.

you squeeze him hard, using all your force and almost shaking you're holding him to you so tightly. when you start limiting his breathing, peter pushes down on your elbows.

'you're about to cuteness aggression me to death.'

'i love you.' you can't say it enough.

peter laughs, 'i love you.'

'no,' you peer up at him, it's been days since you kissed him. 'i really love you.' it's whispered, peter's lips twitch at your blown pupils. you almost purr when he cups your face. 'i know you do.'

peter knows that look. he's the one that created it. 'do you want me to-'

'yes.' you waste no time, pushing up and attacking his mouth with your own. you don't know why it's so harsh, you don't know why you're desperate to swallow him and show him how much you missed him, how much you need him. you want to prove how sorry you are.

'lock your door.' peter's eyes sparkle, that means one thing. he takes off so fast his socks slip on his floor and he catches himself on the wall, his lock flicked in seconds.

peter tugs at the back of his shirt, 'naked kisses?' you bite your lip and nod, 'i could go for a bowl of cereal.'

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker mcu #my writing

330 notes · View notes

joelscruff · 1 year

Text

wait (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

first and foremost! this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place after "words". this won't really make sense if you haven't read that one! it's so crazy to me how this started out as a silly little smutty drabble and somehow became this. this one's kind of heavy (read the warnings!!) but i promise that things won't stay this angsty forever. at its root this story is supposed to be smutty and fun and i promise there will be more of that in the future. i hope you enjoy it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: it's been a month since your boyfriend discovered your relationship with his father and a month since you've seen joel. it's starting to take its toll. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, sexting, comeplay, angst, allusions to past trauma, shitty family dynamics (addiction & verbal abuse), panic attacks word count: 3.2k

i miss you

it's the only thing you've thought about texting him for about a month, a text you always type out and then erase a few moments later. it's something you swore to yourself that you wouldn't do no matter how lonely you got. he'd said he needed time, and you want to give it to him. and yet here you are, leaning against the window of your bus home from community college with tears in your eyes, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to see him. selfish.

it's been one of the loneliest periods of your life. you've known loneliness, felt it throughout most of your childhood, through your adolescence, it's nothing new. but with joel you'd finally begun to feel whole again, like you actually mattered to someone. he looked forward to seeing you, to holding you, being with you. you'd never felt so desired and loved and protected in your whole life.

now you're back to having nothing, no one. it's a harsh reality you're forcing yourself to accept. you still haven't heard anything from your boyfriend - now ex, of course, though there was never any official breakup - and even that's a punch to the gut, an added depth to a loss that you caused.

he's hurting, i hurt him, joel's words repeat in your head. it breaks your heart that he's feeling so guilty, that he feels that he caused this entire thing when it's really your fault. if you weren't such a mess of a person, such a broken human being, the whole thing wouldn't have even happened to begin with. what kind of person sleeps with their boyfriend's father? starts a relationship with him? calls him daddy?

you know you caused this and yet you can't help but miss him so much. it's like he's ingrained himself into your bones somehow, his touch tattooed into your skin. he's all you think about, dream about. you miss being in his embrace, being held by him, whispering daddy in his ear and feeling understood, not judged. you miss his gentle kisses to your nose, the safety of his lap, his arms around your trembling form while he fucked you, took you, made you his.

you stare at the unsent text message and inevitably find yourself scrolling back up to a previous conversation from a few months back, short and simple. texting was never a frequent medium for the two of you, more-so used for you to send him dirty pictures every so often to tease him a bit. you briefly look at the picture, a close-up shot of your bare pussy with some of his come leaking out; absolutely filthy.

still have u inside me daddy

oh baby, so messy. what am I gonna do with you?

you smile at the silliness of it all, the filthiness, but it quickly fades when you remember the reality of the situation again, the fact that your boyfriend had read joel's messages, had definitely seen these texts in particular. he'd called joel a sick man. you don't agree, but you can understand why; if you'd seen a text interaction like this between your own father and a girl half his age... you'd probably have a similar reaction - though the concept of your father showing a woman any affection in the first place is alien in itself.

your bus pulls up to the stop near your house and you get off, slipping your phone back into your pocket and hiking your backpack over your shoulder as you go. it's only a short walk to your house, no more than three minutes, though you usually try to make it a bit longer to delay the inevitable disaster of your home life.

you take it one step at a time, slowly walking down the darkening street with fresh tears in your eyes. god, you're so lonely. you don't want to go home, don't want to be accosted by your alcoholic father and avoidant mother, your asshole brother who never gives you a break. it's so damn depressing in that house; when you'd first gotten together with your boyfriend you'd been so relieved to finally have somewhere else to go that wasn't school or home, another reason you'd stayed with him for so long despite the relationship being doomed. you should have known it couldn't last.

you'd told joel everything. it's hard to believe sometimes that the connection you shared was strong enough for you to trust him with some of your darkest secrets, the worst things from your past. he knows all about your family, all about what you've been through, had listened to you quietly and earnestly as you cried into his shoulder about the hand life had dealt you. he'd rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered it's okay, and i'm here now, and i'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. and he did. he did take care of you. he'd done everything right and somehow you still managed to fuck it up.

the lights are on in the house when you arrive at the front gate, though the car is missing from the driveway; this only means that your mother is out late tonight, probably staying with a friend or a lover or whoever she turns to when shit gets bad. you can't blame her - you'd done the exact same thing when you'd actually had somewhere to go - but part of you still aches for that little girl inside you that needs her, wishes she was inside waiting for you, though it's not like she'd do much to help.

your father is definitely home, probably your brother as well. you stand at the gate, gripping the strap of your backpack and deliberating even bothering to go inside. you know you'll be accosted at the front door by either a drunken tirade or bitter argument. it's a no-win situation no matter how you look at it. your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, grateful for one last brief distraction.

i miss you too, angel. so much.

your eyes go wide, heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at the words.

"fuck," you breathe, "fuck, fuck fuck," you quickly scroll up to confirm your fears - the i miss you text, the one you always erase, the one you make sure to never send - you'd somehow sent it this time, entirely by mistake.

tears are stinging your eyes as you turn on the spot and start walking back and forth in front of your house, running your hand through your hair in disbelief while you stare at joel's text. you fucking idiot. what the fuck have you done? what happened to giving him space? you stupid fucking bitch. you absolute loser. you're suddenly berating yourself the exact same way you know your father and brother will berate you if you go in the house now. you can already picture it - them seeing your tear stained cheeks, the puffiness of your eyes, the words they'll throw at you to hurt you even more, make you feel small.

fucking bitch. fucking loser. fucking idiot.

your breathing is becoming more and more erratic the longer you pace. you can't go in now, not after this, not after seeing that he misses you too and being so fucking close yet so far away. all you can suddenly think about is all those wasted moments at his house, spending so much time with your asshole boyfriend when you could have been with joel, been loved instead of tossed aside like garbage.

god, if you could only hear his voice. if you could just talk to him for one minute before you have to go into this godforsaken hellhole.

before you even fully understand what you're doing, you're hitting the call button and bringing the phone up to your ear.

he answers on the first ring.

"h-"

"i can't do this anymore," you gasp out through a sob, not even bothering to let him say anything, "joel, i can't do it, i miss you so fucking much it hurts."

"babygirl," he breathes, voice rough and deep and gorgeous and familiar, sweet like honey in your ear, "where are you? are you okay?"

and that's enough to break you.

you feel the tears begin to stream down your face, hot and unrelenting. you shake your head even though he can't see you, throat bobbing through repetitive gasps, "no, i'm not okay," you blubber, "da- fuck, joel, i- i can't do this, i can't be by myself anymore. i'm - " you don't even know where this is coming from, voice muddled, "i'm so lonely. i can't do it anymore, i can't. please, i can't."

he makes a devastating sound at your words, something between a sob and a gasp, "where are you?" he repeats, voice full of concern, "where are you, baby? i'm gonna come get you."

"the bus stop by my house," you manage to tell him through your tears, reaching the little bench and situating yourself on it without an ounce of hesitation, "i was- i was gonna go home but," another sob rips through your throat, "but they're home and i- i can't- i can't take it anymore, joel. i don't wanna be there anymore, i can't be there."

"you stay where you are, you hear me?" you can hear movement on the other line, the rattle of keys, footsteps, "don't go home, babygirl, i'm comin'. i'll be there in ten minutes."

"okay," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, "okay."

"deep breaths, baby, remember?" and you do remember; he'd taught you some exercises to help in situations like this, when you feel like the world is falling apart around you and you're just getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into nothingness. he'd held your hands while you'd sat in his lap, eyes closed as you both matched each other's breathing, melted into one another. "in and out, babygirl, that's it. real slow, count for me."

"i r-remember," you manage to hiccup, squeezing your chest with your other hand and trying to ground yourself.

the wait is excruciating, no matter how short, and no matter the fact that joel is on the other end trying to calm you. you sit on the bench with a hand on your heart and the other on your stomach, listening to joel count to five over and over, phone upturned on your thigh.

"big breath in. one...two...three...four...five," he says through the muffled sounds of traffic and wind, "big breath out. one...two...three...four...five." over and over and over again, "i'm turnin' the corner, baby, i'm almost there," he says after about ten minutes of this, "you see me, honey?"

you look up to find his headlights, getting brighter and brighter as they approach. you shakily sit up from the bench, breath coming out much less erratic now, "y-yes," you whisper.

seconds later the car is pulling up in front of you and he's jumping out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he dashes around it. it's been so long since you've seen him that it's jarring to suddenly have him in front of you, sprinting toward your small and shaking form with his jacket undone, shoes mismatched, glasses askew. you catch a glimpse of his expression, concerned and upset - are those tears? - before he scoops you up into his arms and pulls you in close to him.

"i'm here," he tells you, voice rumbling through his chest against your cheek, solid and warm, "i'm here now, babygirl, you're okay. you're okay."

and somehow you are.

"i'm sorry," is all you can say to him as he drives you to his house, hand holding yours tightly the whole way, "i'm such an idiot, i'm so sorry."

"stop saying that," he repeats for maybe the fourth time, shaking his head and squeezing your hand even more firmly, "you're not an idiot and you have nothing to be sorry about."

you really are okay now, breaths calm and tears not even flowing anymore. instead the guilt and shame and humiliation have taken over, sinking into your skin as you lean back in the passenger seat with your hood pulled up, hiding your face from him.

"i was giving you space," you mutter, "i didn't even mean to text you, it was an accident. i was being stupid, as usual."

"stop it," he says again, "stop being mean to yourself."

you close your eyes and face away from him, "easier said than done."

the two of you drive in silence for a few moments, that is until he asks, "have you eaten?" and you say, "no."

he buys you mcdonalds and doesn't let go of your hand.

the house hasn't changed. you hadn't really expected it to; it's not like it's been that long since you were last here. you don't bother even sneaking a peek at your ex boyfriend's bedroom as joel leads you upstairs, curiosity nonexistent.

you're not sure why you expect him to take you into his office, maybe sit on the couch with you and talk. to your surprise he leads you straight past the door, down the hallway to what you can only assume is his bedroom - a place you've never been in all your months of being with him.

"sit down," he tells you softly as he opens the door, pulling you slowly inside and nodding toward the queen sized bed, "i'll get you something to wear."

"okay," you breathe, barely looking at him as you examine the room in front of you, large but cozy, cool colors but a warm atmosphere, framed music posters and blueprints covering the walls - exactly what you'd expect from someone like joel. you shuffle forward and drop your bag at the end of his bed, sitting on the edge of it while he goes to his dresser.

you end up in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of his underwear, loving the feeling of being his again, even if neither of you have actually talked about what exactly this means for your relationship. he helps you change, tugging off your worn-out jeans and the same shirt you've worn for three days in a row, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls off your panties and replaces them with his boxers. it's not sexual, but part of you still longs to pull him on top of you, just feel his weight, smell his cologne.

he pulls back the duvet and helps you climb inside onto your stomach, rubbing your arms and shoulders and releasing some of the tension you've been feeling for the past month. you feel him press another kiss to the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way and stroking it gently, giving you all the care and attention you've been aching for. his hands are so big, so comforting and safe, touching you everywhere without any expectations or underlying motive.

"i missed you, daddy," you whisper against his pillow, not sure if he can even hear you, even more unsure whether it's okay to use that word anymore.

he doesn't reply right away, still kneading his thumbs into the base of your back and massaging you gently. you hear him inhale and exhale deeply a few times, like he's biding time while he figures out what to say.

"sorry," you wince, "joel."

he releases you then, helps you turn over so you're on your back and peering up at him with uncertainty. he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to thumb your cheek, eyes sad and tired.

"i wanna be that for you, sweetheart," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "i do. i want it more than you even realize," he takes a breath, biting down on his lip briefly, "i just... i need you to tell me somethin'. be honest with me now."

your heart skips a beat, "what?"

"when you said you loved me..." his voice breaks a bit and you ache to reach for him, cup his cheek and hold him close, "was it because of what we've been doin'?" he seems to reassess his words, shaking his head slightly, "i mean, did it...did you actually mean it? or was it... was it just part of the game?"

you stare at him for a few seconds, lips parting and eyes going slightly wide. without a second thought you do exactly what you'd just been thinking about, reaching up to place your hand against his face, feeling his scruff beneath your palm. he leans in and takes a breath, peering into your eyes with a yearning you can't describe, can only feel.

you shake your head slowly, "joel," you whisper, "it's never been a game."

his eyes close, stuttering out another breath when your thumb strokes his cheek soothingly. unable to hold back anymore, you lean up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, sweet and tender and familiar. his hand finds the back of your head, pulls you closer, claims you again.

he fucks you slow.

it's never been like this, never has he fucked you the way he fucks you now. you barely speak, just moan and whimper and sigh and melt into each other the way you've never truly been able to, not without prying ears and a time limit hanging over your heads. your hands tangle in his hair while he hits that deep spot inside you, holds you close, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, pounds into you relentlessly like you'll both come apart at the seams if he lets go.

you're biting it back, trying not to say it as much as you desperately want to, still unsure if this is really want he wants. just tell me what to do and i'll do it. i don't care, i'm yours. he looks into your eyes and you can't help but start crying again, overwhelmed by the warmth of him, the safety. he thumbs your tears and kisses them away.

"say it," he murmurs to you as you both near your inevitable release, the tension building and building as he grabs your face with both hands and fucks you with purpose, with passion, "say it, babygirl, tell me."

you shake your head, suddenly self conscious, suddenly afraid. the feelings from earlier tonight rise back in your chest, making a home in the back of your throat as a sob threatens to rip through it.

"it's okay," he whispers, voice trembling with the speed of his thrusts, "it's okay, honey, i wanna hear you say it," he furrows his brow and releases a groan, so close to the edge, "please, baby, say it. need you to say it."

you pull him close, grip his back, press your lips to his ear, "daddy."

he groans, dark and rough, "that's it," he murmurs, "that's it baby, i'm your daddy. that's right." he pulls back to look at you, eyes meeting yours in a passionate gaze that lasts forever, "say it again."

"daddy," you whine, unable to unlock your eyes from his, lip trembling as you submit entirely to him, "feels so good, daddy."

there's something in his expression you can't place, something in his words that reverberates in your brain like a pinball. say it again... you realize it means more than you'd initially thought. he's not just asking you to say one word - he's asking for three.

"i love you," you cry out just as he presses his thumb to your clit, pushes you over the edge, "i love you."

he comes just as you do, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as your fingers scramble for purchase at his back, holding him impossibly close to the point where his entire body weight is on top of you, but you don't care. all you can feel is the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his gasps match yours, finding the same rhythm.

you lay there still for what feels like eternity, joel laying on top of you with his cock still deep inside and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. your tears have stopped but you feel the dampness of his own on your skin, hear the gasp he lets out as he sets his emotions free.

"i love you too," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and quick, voice wrecked, "god, i love you so much."

for the first time, you stay the night.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: bd!joel

2K notes · View notes

yestrday · 5 months

Text

"This hurts."

Zhongli sips on his tea, looking unbothered by your incessant whining, even smiling to himself when you beg him to let you off practice today. Xiao, who's been standing guard this whole time, has been pointedly avoiding your pleading looks. Clearly, Zhongli has given him a warning not to indulge you.

"Zhongli, please," you whine again, voice higher in pitch as you hope to annoy him to the point of sending you away. "My entire body hurts. Can't we just reschedule this tomorrow?"

"Procrastination rusts determination, my dear," Zhongli hums, finally putting the teacup down. The large dragon tail protruding from his lower spine is slinking back and forth on the ground, and if Aether's observation that that is an equivalent of a dog's happy wag, then that means the bastard is enjoying your suffering. "Your father told me to fix you up before your first apperance at a gala and I have a contract to fulfill. Besides—" He fixes you with a firm golden gaze. "— You decided for yourself to finally go back into the public."

You wince at the reminder, regret building up the more you attend these lessons. Despite the good life you've had spending your days as a recluse with your family of hybrids, you had decided one day that this wasn't how you should live your life. So when your deadbeat dad reached out to you about a charity gala, you agreed quicker than you thought about it. And here you were, suffering the consequences with sore feet and numb arms and trembling fingers. Did going out into public really warrant posture and balance exercises and etiquette lessons?

You wanted out. Out! Ayato's already been a drain on your energy with his morning lecture about conversation starters and conversation, scaring your whines away whenever he thumps his spiny tail on the floor or opens his mouth just for the rows of sharp teeth inside to glint at you. Although Zhongli's an old, soft soul who'd never harm you, you were still tired!

"Once more." Zhongli instructed. "Balance those books and walk a straight line from here to there. Begin."

With a small grumble to yourself, you balance the small stack of books on your head and begin. But these things just keep slipping off, and you're half-tempted to say that this isn't your fault anymore and it's their stupid shiny covers. They slip from your head again and you glare at the scattered books with the hatred of a thousand damned souls.

"Zhongli..." you whimper as pitifully as you can. The dragon only shakes his head and motions to the books for you to pick up again. Your downcast expression has clearly struck a nerve in Xiao's heart, with the way he keeps hesitantly stealing glances at you, but he's cowed by a knowing gaze from Zhongli.

"While I approve of practicing, I believe that all hard work entails some sort of break, no?" A stoic yet gentle voice interrupts from the doorway and your face lightens up at Neuvillette. "Apologies for my intrusion, but I've caught wind from a certain cat that our master is in need of a break."

"Neuvi!" You gleefully shout, rushing over to him and eyeing the dessert platter he's balancing on his hand. "Did Aether tell you? Are those for me?!" When he nods, his eyes crinkle in fondness when you squeal in delight, and his tail slinks left and right on the ground. "Neuvi...! You're the best! I've been held captive here for hours!"

"Well," the water dragon huffs out a laugh as you gorge yourself on macarons. "That is to be expected of such kinds of dragons."

"It's for their own good," Zhongli tightly says, meeting the other dragon's challenging gaze. "It's best to fix them up before they attend the gala rather than indulging them to garner favor."

There is an impatient thumping on the floor, coming both from Neuvi and Zhongli. Both of them maintain their stoic composure, but the tips of Zhongli's fingers begin to tint gold and black, while cold blue scales creep up Neuvi's neck. Their reptilian eyes never break away from each other, slowly morphing into pinprick ones as they begin to devour each other whole with—

"Mmm, that's good," you hum, picking up a macaron and running off to Xiao. "Hey~ Want one?"

Xiao smiles faintly, taking the pastel dessert from your hand and gently patting your hair. He thanks you, and slowly eating it so he can show you how grateful he is. (His golden eyes are darting frantically between his master and Neuvillette and tries not to look too eager when he's munching.) "It's very good." He gives a slight bow towards Neuvillette too. "Thank you too, sir Neuvillette," he says, like the polite man he is.

Neuvillette regards him with less hostility than he does towards his fellow dragon. But he frowns a bit when he sees the small arrogant smile on Zhongli's face when he sees his subordinate getting along wth you. He scoffs.

"If your teacher here is still giving you a hard time, you can always come to me for help," Neuvillette murmurs, just loud enough to provoke Zhongli. He wraps his scaly tail around your leg and brings you closer. "I'll promise to instill the grace you need before the gala minus all the nonsense."

You giggle when his gentle touch tickles your cheek before he tucks a hair behind your ear. Kissing you gently on the forehead, he pulls away with a slight smile. "Good luck, dear." He glances behind you, and wearing a satisfied expression, he closes the door shut.

You're suddenly aware of the tension in the air and you turn around to see Zhongli with closed eyes. His black-brown hands, looking like they've been dipped in gold, clench the arms of the chairs tightly. He lets out a slow exhale and opens his eyes just in time for you to see those cold slits revert to the warm brown human ones.

"Zhongli...?" You ask cautiously, taking a careful step forward. You knew dragons were territorial, but you didn't think that Zhongli would react this way. He was normally so... father-like to all the other hybrids.

"Nothing, my dear." He stands up and holds you a bit tightly by the hand. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, all embroidered and silken and as elegant as he is, and rubs away something on the spot Neuvi kissed you. "Just some dirt, thats all."

Gently, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you to the chair in front of him. Xiao wordlessly pulls it back and sits you down.

"Come now, have a rest and let's finish these snacks before you start again, hm?"

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #genshin impact #yandere zhongli #yandere neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yester.writes #yester.au — hybrids 🐾

883 notes · View notes

starflirts · 6 months

Text

NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN (I'LL CRAWL HOME TO HER)

in which luke is determined to keep you close to him forever. luke castellan x fem! reader, wc: 1.36k, warning: swearing, note: first post dedicated to my favorite villain... enjoy !

"Wha-... what the fuck are you talking about Luke ?" From the edge of his bunk bed, your boyfriend avoids your stare, looking anywhere but at your face. "Look at me ! You can't just drop this upon me and act like nothing is happening !" He can hear the hurt and the confusion in your voice and decides to get closer to you. He wants to hold you tight and never let you go but settles for holding your hand.

"Babe, listen to me. please." He’s the one to look at you with pleading eyes this time, one hand circling yours and the other resting on the nape of your neck. "You know how much I hate Olympus and how they toy with us just for their own benefit. I know you feel the same way, watching kids barely getting here safely only to never be claimed or only when their parent deems it convenient ! Do you think it's fair ? To be used as a puppet so you can finally be worthy in the eyes of mom or dad ? Risking your life to fix their shortcomings ?"

His emphasis on dad doesn't intrigue you, you already know. Everyone knows. His eyes are full of resentment and his scar seems so red, a stark contrast with the unmarred skin. Luke goes on and on about his supposedly great plan and you can only watch in horror as the boy in front of you looks nothing like the one you fell in love summers ago.

Hand reaching for the one still laid on your nape, you look up, brows furrowed. "Does Annabeth know ?"

These three words are enough to make him flinch. He opens and closes his mouth and that tells you everything you need to know. Your face twists with disgust and anger as you shove his shoulder enough for him to stumble back, away from you.

"Fuck off Luke !" you spit, tears cornering at your lash line. "How dare you turn your back on your little sister, on me ?" Your voice cracks but you try to put up a brave front, wiping the corner of your eyes. You can only stare at him in disbelief, even though your hands itch to bring him closer to you, to hold him and to at least try to understand his sudden change of heart.

Luke attempts to step forward but you pull back and he can hear his own heart breaking. He runs a hand over his face before answering you with a shaky sigh: "Look, I’m doing this for everyone at camp, for us ! I want us to live free of that burden. We deserve so much more than what the gods have to give !" His voice falters and he clears his throat. "I don't want to wake up one morning and find out you're gone because of them, because you went on a stupid quest for the sake of your parent who can't even bother to acknowledge you !" He looks at you fondly and sighs. "Do you remember the time I came back from the quest Hermes sent me on ? You were so scared something had happened to me. I can't let that happen again. I can't let that happen to you. I want to protect you, to protect us ! You- you're all I have."

Tears fall freely as you shake your head, hugging yourself in an attempt to calm down. "There’s got to be another way, you can’t… You can’t do this Luke ! I-" you sob.

And you feel so afraid yet you don’t know whether you’re more scared of Luke himself or of the thought of losing him to something this insane. The cogs in your brain turn and turn but you can't bring yourself to drive him out of your life, not when you've seen him at his best and at his worst, when you've been by his side for so long you can't even remember.

In a few steps, Luke is engulfing you in a hug and all resolve you had to push him away crumbles within seconds. He rests his chin on the crown of your head while you cling to his shirt. He holds you tight, as if the mere thought of you walking out of his cabin would become true and you might vanish with the wind.

"Hey hey, it’s okay, we’ll… we’ll figure it out, we still have time." he whispers in your ear and you want to believe him, you really do.

Slightly pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, hands coming up to cup your face. With a sad smile, Luke's thumbs wipe your tearstained cheeks.

"There, don't cry," he tells you softly, "my pretty, pretty girl. You know I'll never let you go right ? I love you too much to be able to live without you."

His smile is genuine as his hand cautiously takes your own to place it on his chest, right where you can feel his heartbeat. "You’re here, always and forever, no matter what."

Luke's world had crumbled a long time ago, ever since he realized the gods were monsters in disguise. But now that he has you in his life, whatever's left of that sparkle of hope he had when he was fourteen (and when the world seemed so big yet so full of chances) shines brighter. You were the one who rebuilt everything from scratch, who fixed the gaping hole in his heart.

Your free hand comes up to brush his cheek, thumb trailing his scar. You wish you could close your eyes and pretend that the world isn't on the brink of disaster, that your Luke isn't about to change its course.

The love of your life starts again: "I'll be with you at any cost, believe me. And if anyone, so much as the gods or that new forbidden kid attempt to separate us, I'll walk- heck I'll drag myself back to you !"

His promise is sealed with a kiss and you're certain you'd follow him in a heartbeat: "for better or worse ?" you ask in a small voice, lips hovering over his.

He answers you with a smile and shiny eyes: "for better or worse."

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fic #percy jackson imagine #pjo imagine

881 notes · View notes

gogobootz1 · 6 months

Text

The Mentor pt.3

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: A morning chat at the train station proves very revealing for you and Finnick.

Warnings: mention of forced prostitution and mild self-harm

part two | part four

The marble steps you sit on are practically ice, and the cold seeps quickly through your pants. The train station is entirely empty, and you sit outside of it looking out at the city.

Knees up to your chest, you take a deep breath. The roses you clutch in your icy fingers seem to taunt you, and once you look at them, you can't pull your eyes away. A beautiful gift belying your tragic fate.

You set all but one down beside you, then start to pick at its petals. Completely transfixed, you don't even hear the sounds of someone approaching until you drop the last petal.

"What'd you land on?"

The words break your focus, and you quickly gaze up to find who interrupted you. Finnick interprets your gaze as a confused one and elaborates, "Loves you/loves you not?"

That's not why you were picking the petals, but if you had been asking the flower, it would've been about him. The thought is embarrassing, so you give a half-hearted shrug and look away.

"Well, I got these for you," he holds out a small, far more rustic bouquet. Violets. "But it seems like someone's beaten me to the punch." What a cruel metaphor. Snow blocking your chances yet again. Standing in between you and a real life with real connections. Soon enough, you won't be real. What'll be left when you run out of choices you can make for yourself?

For now, you put the roses down anyway. The breath from your melancholy laugh is visible in the crisp morning air. "Thanks," you say, holding your hand out to accept the flowers. They remind you of home. A patch of them grew out in the field behind the house you grew up in. Your fingers brush over his as you accept the bouquet.

He jolts, "You're freezing!" Dropping down next to you on the steps, he removes the violets from your grasp and rests them in the small space between you. You follow the purple flowers with your eyes as he swiftly takes your hands in his own, attempting to warm them. "Do you purposefully torture your hands?"

You don't answer, still looking at the flowers he brought you. Finnick sighs, "You take such good care of Darla. Do you even bother looking after yourself?"

"What's the point?" Your heart hurts. As much as he hates it, he doesn't have a reply to that. He often wonders the same.

"How will you hold all the flowers you're collecting if your fingers freeze off?" He tries for lighthearted, but you wince. Instantly, he frowns. While typically, your replies to him are short, bordering on rude, they're always spirited. You seemed upset before he left you at the party last night, but now you seem disheveled. Like you hadn't had a wink of sleep.

Clearly, he's caught you in one of those moments. All the victors have them, but usually in private. He's not keen to leave you, though.

"Who gave you the roses?" He ventures, suddenly getting a sickening feeling. He's not expecting a real response, necessarily, but a 'wouldn't you like to know' would ease his anxiety.

You pick up the heavily perfumed flowers, "Oh, these? A gift, I suspect. I made someone very happy last night, and I'm sure I'll be doing it more often," you say bitterly before you toss them back down. Your voice comes out small, though, like you haven't built your armor thick enough to face this yet.

"From the office of the President?" It's not even a question. He already knows. Your face reveals your surprise. "I got a similar congratulatory present when I made my first deal." While he figured out that Snow had you in a similar position, it's clear you suspected nothing of the sort when it came to him. As you look into his eyes, he hopes you're getting what he's trying to convey. That the two of you are the same. And you can finally, finally, be honest.

"It was more of a negotiation," you nod, holding his eyes. "Not my first deal."

"I figured," he says.

You laugh sourly, "Is it easy to tell that I'm a cheap whore?"

"Don't sell yourself short," he scolds, "you're a very expensive whore." He almost worries it won't go over well when you snort and launch into the freest laugh he's heard in his life. Thank God someone appreciates his humor- Mags hates these jokes. He's got plenty more of them, and will definitely use them on you now that he knows they'll land.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," you reply, tongue-in-cheek. Finnick can tell by your genuine grin, however, that you appreciated the joke.

"You're welcome," he nods, "You know, I've considered abandoning prostitution in favor of stand-up comedy."

Somehow your grin grows wider, "Really?"

"Really," he confirms, "I just have to perfect my material before I pitch it to the big man." You nod sagely, entertaining his bit. "He might just keel over in laughter," Finnick suggests.

You lean in a bit, "Think he'll keel over dead?"

"Here's hoping!" He leans in, too, sending you a flashy smile. You laugh again and look back out at the city. An amicable silence falls between the two of you, and you enjoy it a bit before breaking it.

"I met with him before the taping to tell him our deal was off. My nana died during Darla's games, so I thought he had nothing to hold over my head anymore. Then, at the party, our escort told me that Snow wanted everyone to get to know her. And when I saw her talking to-" you cut yourself off, but he understands. Some of them are too difficult to even think about. "I marched into his house and told him I'd take on twice the clients if it meant Darla would never see one." Finnick's breath catches in his throat for a second.

"So... a reminder of my renewed imprisonment," you pick the white roses up again and wave them sarcastically.

Finnick snatches them from your hands and launches them far across the steps with a firm throw. They scatter and tumble across the white marble. The action is so unexpected that another laugh bubbles out from you.

"I think you're incredibly brave," he declares, looking you right in the eye. "You might be the only victor worthy of the title."

"No," you're quick to insist. "That's Darla. She's earned her peace."

"You haven't stopped to think that you might've too?"

You shake your head, "But I haven't. I don't think I could ever atone for what I've done- no matter how hard I try." His brows furrow, finding your words worrisome.

Catching his look, you elaborate, "Every visit to Mrs. Montgomery's classroom, the parks I design, the gardens I dedicate, my broadcast segments- they're all born of guilt!" You admit, getting choked up, "It's my way of saying sorry. Sorry for fucking your husband, even though he paid to fuck me, and I wanted to die each time he did it. Sorry for being a plague upon the Earth, here's something to make it better. Sorry for-" You only notice you'd been aggressively scratching the back of your hand when Finnick grabs your wrist. It cuts off your rambling and prevents you from hurting yourself anymore.

"Why don't you talk to someone instead of torturing yourself?" He sounds pained.

“Who would I talk to?” You shrug, swiping at a stray tear.

“That was… supposed to be an offer,” he winces.

“Oh?" you blink at him.

“I’m really just a call away,” he nods, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Right,” you say, still sounding a little unsure. You blink a few times, averting your gaze and thinking it over.

“I know you think I’m gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll be less of an obstacle for you over the phone,” he jokes.

You turn toward him slowly, eyes wide, “she didn’t.”

“She did,” he smirks at you.

You hit him firmly in the gut, and he lets out a heavy breath as he curls inward. He’s glad you’re feeling up to your usual abrasiveness.

You’ve already moved from your spot and are heading toward the station. He stumbles up after you.

You stop suddenly. Not that you were really going anywhere. The train for Ten won’t leave without Darla and Darla is chronically late. He nearly runs right into your back, and you see him struggle to regain his balance as you whip around.

He’s much closer than you thought, and you have to take a small step back. “What’s your number?”

“What?” He asks, reeling from the near-collision.

“How am I supposed to call if I don’t have your number?” You ask, and his eyebrows raise at the question. You totally skipped the ‘yes, thank you, what a great idea,’ part he’d been hoping for. But, he’ll take what he can get. He rattles off the number in an instant.

“Are you going to remember that?” He asks.

You nod noncommittally, “We’ll see.” The exasperated look on his face pulls another grin from you. He doesn't fight the smile off his face when he sees yours.

A car door slam breaks your extended eye contact. The other District Ten mentor breezes right past you and Finnick, clearly annoyed at being up so early. You know him well enough to know he’s going right back to bed on this train.

Darla, however, looks like hell-warmed over. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“Shhhhh,” she holds a finger to her lips, the other clutching her head. Your expression drops as you take in her appearance.

“Are you hungover?!” You try to steal her dark sunglasses, but she’s too quick.

“Whatever, Mom,” she grumbles, “hurry up and kiss your boyfriend goodbye so we can leave.” She trudges further into the station, where a train is inevitably waiting for you. Your eyes go wide in embarrassment.

“Darla!” You yell, and she winces at the noise.

Finnick chuckles, “What happened to moderation?” She throws him the finger, earning further laughter.

You shake your head at her behavior, and when you turn back to Finnick you find he’s already looking at you. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, acting innocent. “Oh wait,” he snaps and doubles back to grab the flowers he arrived with. “You almost forgot these.”

You shake your head at him, smiling, “Can’t have that can we?”

“Safe travels,” he nods at you, turning to go. He makes it a few paces before you call out after him.

“Finnick,” he quickly turns at the sound of his name. When you recite his number back a surprised grin lights up his features. “The uh- the phone works both ways, you know. I’m not a bad listener.”

“Noted,” he nods, smiling. You smile back at him, a genuine one, and it makes you look younger. A loud call of your name from a train within the station makes the both of you laugh.

“Bye, Finnick,” you smile at him, giving a cute little wave. He returns it readily.

And he thought he was in trouble before.

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

@emerald-09

I also didn't really edit this one, but I think I like how it turned out? I'm not sure if I'll write more for this mini-universe since I have a few other Finnick ideas but we'll see

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction

550 notes · View notes

misscrawfords · 5 months

Text

I was listening to Pride and Prejudice on my drive back from my mother's today and it's been so long since I've actually read the novel as opposed to engaged with one or other adaptation...

Goodness, it's good, isn't it? And Elizabeth is so much more complex a character than she is often presented in adaptations.

The thing that was standing out to me today - I was listening to from when Mr. Collins proposes to Charlotte and I stopped just when Elizabeth was talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings - was the chapter which is just Jane and Elizabeth talking about Bingley. This gets cut from adaptations or so condensed to be meaningless, but it's incredible. It's just a whole chapter of the sisters chewing over why Bingley ghosted Jane (for lack of a better term) and what Caroline's motivations were and the thing that gets me is that they're both right. Jane is right that Bingley can't be blamed for being a friendly young man and that he had no malicious intentions but Elizabeth is also right that young men can be thoughtless in their dealings with women who have less freedom than them and their thoughtlessness can do real hurt. (She's also right about Caroline, of course.) It struck me as such a modern issue. Maybe I've just been thinking about the unwitting hurt that thoughtless young men can cause recently, but everything is so complicated. Bingley is a flake who makes a mistake with regards to Jane but he's also a genuinely lovely young man who makes it right in the end - he's still on his own journey through life which he will continue with Jane. Jane herself lets her desire to see the best in others cause her to see friendship where it isn't, but being deceived in a friend is not so uncommon, is it? And she's not stupid or weak. Heck, she endures her heartbreak being talked about openly by her mother in public for months silently and without rancour. And she does it all without ever resenting Bingley! Jane's the strongest character in the whole novel and an inspiration to the rest of us - FIGHT ME on this!

The other thing I really picked up on was what an important moment in Elizabeth's character development Charlotte's engagement is. It actually kind of breaks my heart - her best friend makes a life choice that she can't support but has to and nothing will ever be the same again between them. It's the first dent into Elizabeth's world view that forces her to see that people are different from her and can make different decisions and this is okay and not just something she can laugh at. It's so relatable in terms of life events - when a close friend marries and then when they have a baby, these things absolutely still do alter friendships. Elizabeth gets over it and even enjoys seeing Charlotte in Hunsford but we are frequently reminded by the narrator that the previous confidences they enjoyed will never be the same again. It's a really big moment for Elizabeth and really the first event in the novel to start to shake her foundations of her comfortable existence. The other two are Bingley's desertion of Jane and Wickham's decision to pursue Mary King over her. By the time she goes to Hunsford, she is prepared in a way for the final massive shock to the foundations of The World According to Lizzy Bennet, not that she knows it. Such is growing up.

And OMG Lady Catherine is SO vulgar and inappropriate! She is a direct parallel to Mrs. Bennet and the rest of the Bennets. Just as Elizabeth feels accute embarrassment at the Netherfield Ball, Mr. Darcy is feeling exactly the same at Rosings. Beautifully done. But their awareness of what is appropriate behaviour is something that unifies Darcy and Elizabeth even if Darcy massively fails to behave like a human around Elizabeth. Pride and Prejudice is such an expose and examination of "how to behave in social situations". There is nobody who doesn't come under scrutiny and pretty much every type of behaviour is gone over with a fine tooth comb.

Sometimes I feel almost ashamed when people ask me what my favourite novel is and I say "Pride and Prejudice" because it's such a damn cliche. I should say something heavier or more obscure or at least I should say it's Persuasion, the "thinking girl"'s favourite Austen. But P&P is so special to me on so many levels and you know what? It is a MASTERFULLY written book.

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #i just want to spend my life thinking about Austen

410 notes · View notes

star-sim · 3 months

Text

how you hurt him ☆ ot7

☆ non-idol! ot7 enhypen x fem! reader ☆ summary: all the ways that you hurt him (ft. song lyrics) ☆ genre: angst ☆ warning(s): toxic relationship, toxic! reader, mentions of cheating, this is practice for an english project so please bear with me, most of this is very figurative/abstract ☆ word count: 2.9k total ☆ aka enhypen boys as sad love songs, it’s like 1am i will edit later 😭

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

heeseung ☆

"why would you ever kiss me? i'm not even half as pretty" — heather, conan gray

was there something wrong with heeseung? what if he wasn't good enough for you? did you think he was ugly? disgusting? annoying? needy?

at the beginning of your relationship, you made it clear to heeseung that you weren't good with words.

"don't worry about it," heeseung had told you. "i'm not good either."

he thought you meant that you found it hard to say "i love you."

what you meant was that you were indeed good with words, just bad at saying nice things to him.

at first he thought he was being ridiculous, a prisoner of his own mind.

he knew you loved him— how could you possibly not?

but if you loved him, why did you say such nasty things to him?

"god, heeseung, you're so stupid."

"i can't believe i'm dating someone like you."

"i'm disgusted with you."

he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

what had he done to make you repulsed by him? was he being sensitive?

he hated himself for all of it.

he hated the creeping feelings of jealousy that would suffocate him like a noose to a prisoner whenever he saw you talk to another man. did you like him more than heeseung? what if you wanted to leave him?

he hated how he craved what little kind words you could give him. it was so rare for you to compliment and speak to him gently, so when you did, heeseung was drunk on it.

he hated how insecure he got.

he hated how his mind was a gallow of its own.

he hated how afraid he was.

"you're so pretty," you whispered into his ear.

heeseung's stomach did flips. did you really mean it? was he as pretty as all the other men you entertained yourself with? was that why you kissed him and not them?

did this mean that you really loved him?

heeseung felt something tighten around his neck. not in that suffocating way that made him claw at his skin until he bled as he stared in the mirror asking himself what could be changed, but in the way that made him feel warm all over.

he’d wait at the gallows like a convicted prisoner, he’d stand there proud, ready to say his last words. he’d keep his hands behind his back, he’d admire the brass noose that would be his eternal necklace.

because for heeseung, to be with you, and to love you, was to be helpless.

to love you was to wait like a dog in the cold.

to love you was to eat your every word like it was his last meal.

to love you was to be your prisoner waiting for you to execute him.

jay ☆

"pretend that we are more than friends, then of course I'll let you break my heart again" — let you break my heart again, laufey

it's not your fault, jay tells himself. it's not your fault that you can't love him.

but at what point does it become your fault?

you knew that he loved you. he'd told you multiple times, shown you a billion other times. anyone with eyes could tell that he was head over heels in love with you. everyone knew.

especially you— you who rejected him time and time again, laughing that he was just a friend to you.

but here you were, pressing yourself up against him, looking at him with lidded eyes and licking your lips like you wanted to eat him. you held his hand against your chest, whispering a soft "good night." jay knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, not with you so close to him, not with the ache in his chest.

it's not your fault that he loves you, jay thought. but it is your fault that you lead him on, that you pretend to kiss him, that you snuggle up next to him knowing that he'd lay down his life for you.

did you enjoy torturing him like this?

what pleasure did you take in constantly making him think that he had a chance with you?

was this how it was going to be forever?

were you always going to keep him waiting like this, just because you knew that he'd stay no matter what?

jay swallowed the lump in his throat.

he couldn't continue living like this, having you play with his feeling like this.

"jay..." you mumbled, reaching out for him. jay was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering to you. you looked so innocent and peaceful despite himself. how could he ever stop? how could he stop when it was you at hand?

"i'm here," he hummed, throwing an arm around you. i'm always here.

you were warm, and soft, and everything that jay could ever want in a person. your soft breathing brushed up against his cheek.

jay stared at your sleeping face.

would it hurt to pretend that you were more than friends?

he let his eyelids fall slowly.

he could imagine you and him dancing in the kitchen, laughing together as the scent of jay's cooking filled the apartment. jazz music would be playing, and you'd pretend to be an old flapper couple from the '20's, swirling around the cold kitchen tiles.

your words from earlier echoed in his head.

"i love you so much, jay!"

"you're the best."

"how could i ever be so lucky to meet you?"

it made his heart pound in his chest, unable to hide the lovesick grin spreading on his face.

he knew your words meant nothing, that you truly only saw him as a friend.

he needed to stop this delusion now, else he'd be even more hurt than he already was. you broke his heart over and over again, as if it meant nothing to you.

but as you and him twirled around his head, basking in each other's presence, jay couldn't bring himself to let you go.

he'd let you, jay thought. he'd let you break his heart.

as many times as you wanted.

jake ☆

"the other man will always cry himself to sleep, the other man will never have her love to keep" — the other woman, lana del rey

of course jake knew that he wasn't the only man in your life.

how many times did he lay in bed at night, wishing that it was him that could hold you? how many times did he dream of being the man that could call you his? how many fantasies did he have of marrying you, of giving you the world?

and how many times did he have to remind himself that he couldn't have you— that you already had someone to love?

it made jake feel sick, seeing all the pictures that you posted with you and your husband, hearing all the chatter about your 2-year wedding anniversary, and forcing himself to smile as a tight-lipped "congratulations" fell from his mouth.

but what made him even more sick was how happy he felt whenever you showed up at his doorstep in the depths of the night.

jake couldn't help it.

he couldn't help how his stomach did flips when your hands slithered up his chest, wrapping around his neck as you pressed kisses against his jaw.

he couldn't help how his body moved on its own as he took in the scent of your perfume, his head filling with nothing but you, you, you.

he couldn't help how he craved you, how he was unable to pull away from you, even though he knew you had a husband waiting for you back home.

he couldn't help how for a moment, he could pretend that you were his; for a moment, he could live in the illusion that he was the one that you came home to every night, that he was the one that you woke up with in the morning, that he was the one that you sat at the kitchen table with to discuss your weekly grocery list, that he was the one that you laughed with in the depths of night, that he was the only man that you loved.

but as quickly as it started, you were already out the door, waving goodbye with a sweet smile as if you hadn't committed a crime against your husband.

jake knew the sight of your retreating back better than anyone, and as he closed the door, he'd suck in a sharp breath.

he would deny it over and over, until his words lost meaning.

but he knew the truth.

he was a fool for thinking that he could have you, for after all this time, he was the other man.

sunghoon ☆

"i bet on losing dogs, i know they're losing and i'll pay for my place" — i bet on losing dogs, mitski

you and sunghoon were never meant to work out, and he knew this.

everyone said that you'd hurt him. he'd seen it with his own eyes, how you bore your bloody teeth and ripped into people like they were your prey, how you barked venomous words at people.

you were a losing dog to begin with, a losing dog that would never truly love him the same way you loved yourself.

and before he knew it, sunghoon realized that everyone was right.

you sunk your teeth into him, feasting on what love he could give you like a ravenous hyena.

but how could he resist you? how could he resist your touch, your warmth, your limited moments of compassion?

wounded, bleeding, scarred, sunghoon staggered away from the killing floor. yet, he was unable to stop himself from turning over his shoulder to see your face.

there was something disgusting he felt, something that made sunghoon nauseous. his stomach churned. and then he realized, he couldn't bring himself to leave you.

because you were a starving dog, thristy for a victim.

because you were a wailing dog, weeping over your kill as if it would atone you.

because you were a losing dog, a dog that sunghoon placed his bets on.

and it was time for him to pay the price of his actions.

sunoo ☆

"i know who you pretend i am" —washing machine heart, mitski

sunoo wasn't stupid.

he knew it better than anyone, that your heart didn't belong to him. it never did, and it never will.

sunoo saw the way that you yearned, he saw the way that your eyes lit up, he saw the way that you gazed with love in your eyes— all for someone that wasn't him.

so why did you kiss him like he meant anything to you? why did you hold him like he could have you?

he knew why.

"i missed you so much," you breathed against his ear, pressing him against the wall. "so, so, so much."

the taste of your lips was addicting.

you liked to kiss roughly. you liked to run your fingers through his hair and pull it harshly, making him groan lowly against your lips. you liked to slip your fingers up his shirt, making him shudder.

sunoo liked to kiss gently. he liked it when your lips would melt against his. he liked it when you played with the clasp of the silver chain around his neck. he liked it when you pulled away and giggled softly at the lipstick smudge at the corner of his lip.

he didn't like it rough like you did.

but he took it all.

he took it all, because he loved you.

he took it all, even though he knew that you were kissing him pretending that he someone else.

it wasn't hard to tell.

you wore the gold necklace that he gave you, never any of the ones that sunoo got you.

you didn't even blink when sunoo's name was said, but the mere mention of his interests or career had you reeling.

and of course, he liked when you kissed roughly so you were a rough kisser, even though sunoo liked it gentle.

you don't even look at sunoo the way you look at him.

when you said "i miss you," sunoo could tell that you didn't mean it.

you didn't miss sunoo, you missed him. you just missed the attention that sunoo gave you.

he knew who you pretended he was.

but all he could do was look into your eyes, and be reminded of a tragedy: that while you couldn't love him back, he loved you.

"i missed you, too," he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat, swallowing his dignity.

jungwon ☆

"if you need to be mean, be mean to me" — i don't smoke, mitski

to be vulnerable, to be at someone's mercy, to be someone's lamb for the slaughter, was jungwon's biggest fear. he'd die before he'd let someone take advantage of his weakness.

yet as you slipped out of his grip, your once loving eyes turning cold as hands that once held him in your arms became the hands that striked him, all he could do was sit back and take it.

words like daggers into his back, slashing him over and over like he was a sacrificial lamb for a god that could not save him. hot tears would line as eyes as you raised your knife at him, sending shivers down his spine that made him cower into his skin, chanting apologies like they were prayers.

jungwon should run. after all, that was all he spent his life doing.

but how could he escape you when you kissed his tear-stained face? how could he leave you, for when your anger simmered down you cradled his cheek, whispering that you loved him?

it hurt, it hurt so bad.

but if you must destroy him, if you must slaughter him until your killing floor was covered in blood, if you must cut him up into little pieces for your own pleasure, so be it.

he'd follow you into the slaughterhouse, knowing full well that the darkness was the last thing he'd ever see, and jungwon would close his eyes and thank the person that crafted your blade anyway.

you can kiss him, you can hold him close, or you can strike him, you can treat him like an animal. he wouldn't care. it would be the same either way; he'd be glad that it was you.

for he was your lamb, and you were his butcher; for if you needed to be mean, be mean to him.

riki ☆

"even though she isn’t even really gone, but things are just different ever since she cut her blue hair off" — blue hair, tv girl

of course riki noticed. how could he not?

all those bored looks when he was talking, aimless nods when he asked you a question, and loveless kisses that you pressed against his skin. it took you hours to respond to his texts and calls, and when you did, you responded curtly. you stopped coming home, always having plans on weekends with no time for him.

riki didn't know what happened.

he thought that you and him had such a great relationship, filled with love and laughter.

but somewhere along the way, you seemed to lose interest in him.

he asked all your friends, but they said nothing changed about your behavior.

did riki do something wrong? did he make you angry? all questions that he'd never find the answer to.

the silence was piercing, ringing in his ears. he'd just asked you how your day was, and all he got back was a simple, vacant stare, before you turned back to your phone, scrolling mindlessly. his heart sunk so his stomach, brows crashing together.

had riki lost you? all he wanted was for you to look at him, for you to acknowledge him. was he being dramatic?

please, riki begged. please look at me, please see me, please love me.

254 notes · View notes