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barcaatthemoon · 2 months

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peer pressure || lucy bronze x teen!reader (platonic) ||

things don't go as planned when you sneak out for a party, so you call lucy to pick you up.

you knew better than to sneak out. you knew that it wasn't worth the consquences that would be coming from all sides of your life. however, you wanted to feel like a normal teenager for once in your life. for so long, you had been doing everything that you were told in the hopes that they'd all be proud of you.

if it wasn't for alexia chewing you out at practice, you probably wouldn't have gotten the bright idea of coming out. yelling back at your captain had not been the right move, and once your parents were notified of that, you were in for it at home. they had berated you about respect and how easy it would be for barcelona to decide that they didn't want you playing for them.

you had never been to a party before, and in all honesty, you had come with the hope that your neighbor would notice you. she was the most beautiful girl that you had ever seen in your entire life. the embarrassing crush you had developed on ingrid seemed like nothing whenever you first spoke to enya. she had been living across the street from you for some time, but the two of you hadn't spoken until recently.

"(y/n), you came!" enya seemed excited to see you. she grasped your hands in hers and leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek. your skin flushed at the contact, heating up at the fact that she had nearly kissed you on the lips. "come on, i've got someone i want you to meet."

"okay," you said as you followed her further into the party. immediately, you hated the atmosphere. it was loud, smelled like smoke and alcohol, and the flashing lights made your head hurt. you had never been in an environment like that before, and it wasn't one you could see yourself in often.

"who is this?" in front of you sat two guys. one of them you had caught glimpses of before, but you had never seen the other one before. the one that you had seen before was speaking, a slightly annoyed look on his face that told you he knew who you were.

"this is my neighbor, (y/n). she's the soccer player," enya said. the boy you didn't know perked up immediately. he smiled at you, and if you were into boys, he would have been your type. "(y/n), this is pedro, and my boyfriend, elias."

"nice to meet you." you forced a smile as you shook their hands. your months of media training came in handy, but not in the ways you thought it would.

"can i get you a drink?" pedro asked as he stood up. he towered over you quite a bit, but there was something unthreatening about him. you nodded, missing the way that enya excitedly nudged her boyfriend. the two of you weren't really friends, but you had spent a little bit of time together talking. enya seemed to be very interested in why you didn't go to school like everyone else.

pedro came back with your drink a few moments later, and you were grateful that it was in a sealed bottle. you hung around their little group having a few drinks until elias pulled out a bong. barcelona drug tested quite often, and if you didn't pass, you'd never hear the end of it. you moved to get up, but enya placed her hand on your thigh to keep you in your seat.

"come on, one hit won't hurt," enya said. if it wasn't for the way that she was looking at you, you probably would have been strong enough to walk away. instead, you sat there and let them pass it around. enya seemed to realize that you cared more about spending time with her than pedro because she slowly slipped into his place next to you. she helped you with hitting the bong and making sure that your hand was never without a drink.

"maybe let's slow down a bit," elias laughed uneasily. enya shot him a nasty glare, but he seemed persistent. he nodded towards pedro, who helped you up onto your feet to get some air outside. you couldn't walk on your own, and all of the movement had you throwing up outside of the house by the steps. "goddamn it en, i knew she couldn't hang."

"whatever, let's just get back inside," enya said. she pulled both her boyfriend and his friend back inside, leaving you outside on your own. you were terrified out there on your own, unsure of who you could call. your parents were out of the question because technically, you were still grounded. you couldn't call alexia because she would have killed you for sneaking out to go to a party. it was in the midseason, which meant that she expected everybody to be smart about their decisions. finally, your brain settled on calling lucy, who seemed most likely not to ask you too many questions.

"jesus christ kid, do you know what time it is?" lucy hadn't let the call ring more than twice. unbeknownst to you, your parents had come into your room to check on you, only to find you gone. they knew that you liked going out on walks to clear your head, so they hadn't panicked like they wanted to. if you did decide to go to a teammate's house, they'd find out about it in the morning.

"could you please come and get me? i'm not having fun, i don't want to be here anymore." lucy shot up in her head at the obvious slur of your words. she managed to find you pretty easily, but still stayed on the phone with you the whole time.

"hey kid, did they leave you out here by yourself?" lucy asked as she scooped you up off of the steps. you nodded, instantly regretting it as a wave of nausea washed over you. lucy held your head back as you threw up in the grass before you got into her car. the usual gests that she would have had driving home other drunk teammates died before they made it to her mouth. she was just concerned about taking care of you.

"thank you for getting me," you muttered as you leaned against lucy's body. she gave up with trying to help you up the stairs, opting instead to just carry you. lucy wasn't quite sure what you needed, so she helped you change into some shorts and a tank top before letting you take her bed for the night. "where's oni?"

"ona went home already," lucy told you as she tucked you in. she started to walk away, but was stopped when you let out a particularly pathetic little whine. "what's wrong?"

"i'm scared. will you stay with me? nobody's going to love me tomorrow," you told her. lucy sighed as she turned around and pulled the comforter back to lay next to you. "will you tickle my back like my mami does? it feels nice."

"i don't know how your mami does it," lucy pointed out. you were quick to grab her hand and place it on your back. lucy got the gist pretty quickly, and despite her awkwardness about it, you still found it very soothing. you quickly drifted off to sleep in lucy's arms, not even stirring a little when she called your parents to let them know where you were. she sighed heavily, knowing that she'd have to call alexia next because it seemed that your parents hadn't cared much that you were gone. she just had to hope that alexia didn't get too mad when she came to pick you up the next morning.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader #teen reader #platonic fic

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 3 months

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hi!! this is the same anon from earlier and i saw you wanted to write for james potter. and i’m so sorry if you’ve done something similar. so maybe after a quidditch match, win or loss, all james wants to do is lie and bed with reader and hug her. but they’re not dating and he ends up confessing too, still tired, he doesn’t even realize he’s admitted his feelings

thank you again for your time:))

-can i be ‘🎀 anon’? lolol

hi lovely 🎀! thanks for your sweet words and adorable requests 😊 i hope you like it!

pairing: James Potter x reader tags: fluffy fluff, some angst, gn reader if you want word count: 1.9k

Cuddles and Confessions

So close. So bloody close. And to bloody Slytherin to top it off? The defeat stung worse than any other James could remember.

As he lumbers back up toward the castle after the match, frustrated and furious, some Slytherin fans jeer at him from across the lawns. It pushes him over an edge, and he turns to — well, he’s not sure to what; berate them? beat them up? — a strong hand grabs his shoulder and turns him back around.

“Easy, mate. They’re idiots but they’re not worth it,” Sirius says easily. Sirius of all people being the voice of reason has James realizing maybe he needs to calm down.

James falling into step with Sirius without a word, the two make their way back up to the castle.

When they get to the common room, it’s packed with mad and sad-looking Gryffindors consoling each other, complaining about bad calls, bad-mouthing the Slytherins: a typical post-match defeat.

“Thank Godric,” Sirius sighs, heading immediately to a small table stacked with firewhisky. He grabs two glasses, but James stops him before he fills the second one.

“No thanks, mate. Don’t really feel like the company,” he says, scanning the room. He admits to himself there is one face that would have made him stay, one person whose company was actually the only thing he wanted right now. But he doesn’t see you. So he stalks off, bounding up the stairs to his currently empty dormitory.

He’s lying on his bed, tossing a ball up and down when he hears a soft knock.

“What?” he yells, the harshness of his voice even surprising him a bit. Surprise shifts to horror when your beautiful, blushing face peeks around the door.

“Hi, Jamie,” you say shyly. “I’m sorry. Sirius said you wanted to be alone. I should’ve listened. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I’ll just —”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushes, going over to you and pulling you into his room. “I’m so sorry, love. Please don’t go.”

You smile a bit at this, looking down at your feet before nodding slightly.

“Ugh, I’m a prick. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His voice is soft now, warm and enveloping as you look into his pleading eyes.

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “I get it. Rough night, huh?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, smiling for the first time all day. You had a way of bringing that out in him.

“Want a hug?” you offer. He nods immediately, internally cringing for being so uncool in front of you.

“Yes please,” he half laughs.

You step close to him, and even this increased proximity has him reeling. He can’t wait to feel your warmth around him, to smell your hair as he nuzzles into you.

He’d been hoping to win tonight’s match for more reasons than one. He hated Slytherin for starters. He loved winning for seconds. But also, he had been hoping a Gryffindor victory party could be the perfect place to finally tell you how he feels about you. Firewhisky flowing, adrenaline pumping, maybe he’d finally have the courage he was supposed to have as a Gryffindor and tell you the truth.

You bring your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, bringing one hand to his messy hair and scratching comfortingly. James’s large body immediately melts into yours. He hums into the crook of your neck, and you giggle.

“Thanks for coming to check on me,” he whispers into your shoulder, holding you close.

“Why would I want to be downstairs wallowing with everyone else when I could wallow with you?” you tease, pulling back slightly to be face to face again. He hates how much he just wants to pull you back into him.

“Oh, I’m much better company than those wankers,” he plays along.

“Yes, I’m sure. Seems you’re quite chipper from your greeting.”

He cringes and whispers “sorry” again. You shake your head quickly, wanting him to know you’re only teasing.

The silence stretches a bit too long, neither of you knowing what to say. It’s especially awkward because your hands are still on his shoulders, his on your hips.

“So what were you doing?” you ask, coming up with nothing better.

“Just lying in bed, wallowing,” he confesses.

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. You break apart from him, the tension becoming too much and head over to his bed, plopping down onto it. He laughs and follows, sitting close next to you. “What do you want to do?” you ask, your voice low. “I came to cheer you up, but I think I’m doing a bang up job so far,” you chuckle, scrunching your nose.

Before thinking about it, James brings his hand up to your face, lightly tracing his finger down your nose for you to relax it.

“You’re not,” he says earnestly. “I’m already better, just having you here.” He thinks he feels your face warm where his hand still caresses it but pushes the idea down, not wanting it to be wishful thinking.

“So what do you want to do?” you ask again gently.

“Honestly?” he asks shyly. Nervous was a weird look on him, usually so cocky.

“Of course,” you giggle in your warmest tones, wanting him to be open with you, relishing in the intimacy you seemed to be building.

“I want to keep lying in bed wallowing.”

You stiffen immediately, chiding yourself for misreading his nerves. He wanted you to leave; that’s why he seemed shy.

James sees — and feels — you tense at his words, and luckily for him, he realizes right away what you’re probably thinking. He continues before he can stop himself, dreading your leaving more than dreading saying something stupid.

“With you,” he adds hastily. He feels himself blush, hates it, but pushes on. “I want to lie in bed and wallow… with you,” he repeats more softly.

“Oh,” is all you can think to respond.

“I mean, just hang out, you know. I just… you just… I just like hanging out with you. And even just your hug made me feel better,” he rambles sweetly.

You smile and pull away from him a bit. Before he can be disappointed, though, you’re pulling him with you as you shuffle further back onto the bed, lying down and bringing him horizontal with you by the shoulder.

You’re lying next to each other, both tense, facing the ceiling, your sides grazing but nothing more. You look over at him, and he looks at you, and you both look away like idiots.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself he literally just told you he wanted to be here with you, clinging to that to give you the courage for what you were about to do. You turn toward him and bring your hand up to his hair. His eyes snap to yours. First they show shock but that quickly melts to adoration. Then they show nothing at all as they close in comforted bliss. You chuckle softly and see the corners of his mouth tug up at the sound.

“Feels nice,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you whisper too. He just nods.

You shuffle closer to him, and he turns his body towards yours. Your arm is cramped now between your two close bodies, so you do the reasonable thing for comfort, you tell yourself, and wrap your arm under his shoulders. His face coming to the crook of your neck, you miss the huge smile that breaks out on it at the contact.

He’s lying on your shoulder now, the rest of his body flush with yours. Your arm is around him, your hand coming up to continue playing with his hair. James brings his arm over you, hugging you close, and you place your arm on top of his.

It crosses James’s mind that friends don’t cuddle. But he stops his internal monologue in time to savour the moment rather than over-analyse it, which he’s bound to do later.

You just lie there in silence for a bit, the tension having eased considerably.

In your warm, comfortable cocoon, you bring your face closer to the top of his head on your shoulder and nuzzle him a bit. He just hums in response.

“You’re comfy,” he says. It sounds muffled, his mouth squished against your shoulder. You laugh, and it shakes him up and down the slightest bit.

James loves the feeling of your vibrating chest just below him. He can’t help himself and tickles you where his hand rests near your ribcage. You laugh louder. You hold down his arm to stop him and playfully shake him off a bit to protect yourself from more tickling. His grip tightens in response, and he’s almost on top of you by the time he’s done adjusting himself.

“No, no, don’t go,” he chuckles. “I’ll stop.”

Your laughter has mostly subsided, but your voice is raspy as you respond, “Promise?” He nods into your shoulder. “Fine. I’ll stay if you behave.”

He laughs, squeezes you, whispers, “Promise.”

Any tension that had been left has dissipated completely, and you fall into easy chat as you hold each other close. Your hand continues playing with his hair, tugging it when he says something stupid. His arm draped over you occasionally squeezing you more tightly whenever either of you says something nice. You go over the highlights of the match, lamenting the result. Without realizing it, you start talking about any and everything else, and by the time the conversation lulls for the first time, both of you chuckling lightly, James wonder how much time has gone by. Not enough, he thinks to himself, wishing this would go on forever.

The quiet, your hand in his hair, your warmth radiating around his body, it all soothes him into a half slumber. It washes over him how exhausted his body is from the match, how tense it had been from the fury at its result.

“This is nice,” he slurs.

“Mmhmm,” you hum.

“I’m not even mad anymore.” He sounds astounded even in his sleepy tones. You chuckle.

“Good.”

“Mmmm. We’ll prank the Slytherins tomorrow. And I’ll think of another time to tell you how I feel.” Your hand halts its motions. James is still completely relaxed, and you realize he’s pretty much half asleep, not truly realizing what he’s saying.

You don’t want to take advantage of him in this state, but you want to be honest with him too, and he clearly wanted to talk to you about whatever this was.

So, you warmly whisper, “How do you feel, Jamie?”

“I love you,” he mumbles. You’re melting at his words, and you can’t wait till tomorrow to say them back. You shift your weight so you’re more facing James than under him, and this rattles him a bit more awake. His drowsy eyes are heavy initially but then they startle slightly. Before he can worry or regret, you hold his face gently in both your hands, your thumbs caressing his cheeks.

“James…” He just looks deeply into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, not saying anything. “I love you, too.”

His face shifts as if in slow motion. His eyebrows rise; his lips smile widely; his eyes crinkle.

“You love me?” He sounds equal parts giddy and disbelieving.

“Yeah, I love you, you grump.” He chuckles. “You love me?” you echo.

He takes his time responding. Scanning your features adoringly. Eventually, finally, calmly and assuredly he says again, “I love you,” nodding as he closes the little distance between you.

Your kiss is slightly awkward at first, your lips smiling automatically at his words before realizing they’re being called on to take on new, intoxicating shapes.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfic #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #sirius black

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heavenblvd · 3 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x female reader

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lovelybrooke · 6 months

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So, book 7 just released for the English Server, and it really made me want to write for Twisted Wonderland. When going through the chapters that were released, I couldn't help but think about the different reactions to reader leaving. Since there's a lot of characters, I'll only be talking about the Yandere first-years, but if you like this, I'll write for the other characters.

Ace:

Ace and Deuce both fight for the spot as your best friend. Ace always uses the argument that he met you first so he's obviously your best friend. It's why he gets so peeved whenever you mention going home. He honestly forgot about you going home around the time that you saved him and Deuce from Azul and his goons. He hasn't really thought about it, more has he wanted to think about it. It's childish, but any thought he has about the future involves you.

When it's brought up in the lunchroom that you could possibly go home through that mirror in your room, he's surprised. Like I mentioned, he forgot that you wanted to go home. He get's kinda mean when you bring it up, like it's the dumbest thing in the world. Why would you want to go home? There are so many people here so care about you and would be devastated if you left. Honestly, you're being kinda selfish, you're just going to abandon everyone who's done so much for you? That seems like a pretty dumb decision, don't bring it up again.

Deuce:

Deuce is the opposite of Ace. Unlike his friend, he's thought about you leaving many times, it keeps him awake at night some times. It's not all that bad, wondering what your world is like, what your fiends were like, what you were like. Other times, it's terrible, mind racing with thoughts of you leaving. What would you do if you could actually leave, would you hesitate, would you think of them? Or would you leave without a second thought, abandoning all the ones who love you behind. It's a scary thought.

After Ace is done berating you, Deuce is there to pick up the pieces. He reminds you that it's your choice, but that he would very much hate it if you went. Unlike Ace, who's just mean, Deuce presents himself with false sympathy, claiming to understand what you're feeling, even though that could never be possible. He tries to comfort you, but it's less of comforting and more attempting to make you forget about your home, reminding you all the great things this world has to offer. He'll go on and on, as long a it make you stay.

Jack

Jack is much more clam and understanding in comparison to the rest. He knew this would come one day. You'd eventually travel back home, leaving them behind, and the world would keep on moving. Before he was closer to you, he didn't really mind it. But as he got to know you, and as he grew closer to you, he began to hate the idea of you leaving. He's somewhat embarrassed by how close he's grown to you, but that's not really his fault, is it? You're the reason he's so messed up now, and I'd be kinda messed up of you to leave.

Jack is the one who actually comforts you. He rubs your back as he reprimands Ace for his harsh words. He'll whisper in your ear and remind you that you have all the right in the world to want to go home. He'll promise to help you find a way home, ignoring the pain in his heart when you thank him for all the help. He knows it's wrong, but a part of him wishes you never find a way back home, and you stay here, safe, with him.

Epel:

Epel wants so badly to be upset, he wants to yell and scream, get mad at you. But when you mention leaving, all that comes is this deep sense of loneliness. He doesn't react like the others, doesn't get angry or defensive, he doesn't try to comfort you. He keeps everything deep within him until he gets back to his dorm, where he cries for hours. He knowns you'd be disappointed in him, bottling everything in, but he can't help it. When he finally does come out of his room, his hair is messy and is face is red and stained with tears.

Epel does confront you later, at Ramshackle. He does finally blow up at you this time, but instead of anger, he begs you not to leave him. He hugs you and holds you tight until you promise him you won't leave. He needs you here, everyone needs you here. If you don't forget about leaving he'll hold you tighter, digging his nails into your back, not caring If it hurt. He'll remind you that at any point, he can break that mirror. So just promise him that you'll never leave.

Ortho:

Ortho just adores you. After helping his brother and seeing how far you'd go for him, he can't help but adore you. He wants to be your best friend, and sometimes he fears that will never happen. He met you so late, so many people got close to you before him. That's why he's kinda worried when you mention leaving. He barely knows you, at least not compared to the others and he doesn't want you to leave just yet.

Ortho starts spending a lot of time with you after you mention leaving. He's walking you to classes, eating lunch with you, and even studying with you. You often have to remind him to go back to his dorm, if you don't he'll never leave you alone. His behavior isn't that strange to you, but for Ortho, he's doing everything he can to insure you stay with him and his brother. He doesn't really see anything wrong with it, after all you are his best friend.

Sebek (I know he technically isn't apart of the gang yet but whatever):

Sebek is conflicted. On one hand, he thinks you're a stupid human, and getting upset at you leaving it a waste of time. On the other hand, he fills with rage whenever you mention going home. He doesn't understand why'd you want to leave. You are weak, magicless, and you want to travel back to a world far away from them when they could protect you instead? It just didn't make sense.

Sebek flat out refuses you leaving. Like it doesn't matter what you want, you are not leaving. His duty is to ensure Malleus's happiness, and you leaving would greatly upset him so no, you're not leaving. He won't mention that he doesn't want you t leave, that will never come from his mouth. But you know something is wrong with him when he demands more of your time, and refuses to let you out of his sight.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 4 months

Text

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

The Team Crushes on Their Manager

Team Japan x GN! reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing

AN: this was due approx. 570 of you ago but nevertheless, here we go 🎉

Where do I even start?

Probably from the beginning because that’s when it ALL started

It was your first day as Team Japan’s new manager

No other job prospects huh Yn?

You were filled with hope and a renewed sense of purpose 🤩

You’d always loved Volleyball whether you played it, watched it or read a very specific manga surrounding it 👀

It was safe to say you were a fan!

The job seemed relatively straightforward

You’d come to work, take care of a bunch of world class athletes, clock out and repeat

Easy right?

Sure….

You walked into the building on your first day and it started almost immediately

There is no easing into this job YN 😌

“Well hello there gorgeous,” a very untoned blonde who seriously needed his roots retouched whistled

“Umm hi! I was wondering if you could-” you started to say before being unfortunately interrupted 🙄

“You want my autograph don’t ya sweetheart?” The blonde smirked, conveniently pulling out a sharpie that seemed to manifest from thin air

“Oh no, I’m looking for-” you try to say again before again being interrupted

“ATSUMU!” A voice shouted as you saw a rather angry looking man with black spiky hair marching up to you and the blonde, “what did I tell you about harassing guests?”

“I wasn’t harassing ‘em!” The blonde, known as Atsumu shouted back

Meanwhile you are just standing there like 🧍

“If you weren’t harassing them, then why do they look like they wanna run for their lives?” Another tall man with curly black hair replied, approaching from behind you

“SHUT YER TRAP SAKUSA!” Atsumu yelled again as the spiky haired man spoke

“If you both don’t get your asses back into that gym right now!”

Atsumu rolled his eyes before responding, “yes Iwaizumi” and turning to leave

But not before shooting a very unsolicited wink in your direction 🙄

“Stop making people feel so uncomfortable,” Sakusa berated as he and Atsumu argued back to the gym

“I’m so sorry about that. You must be Yn?” Iwaizumi asked turning to you as you smiled back widely

“That’s me!” You giggled as Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and his face turned pink at your sheer adorableness

Iwaizumi is just happy that you seem excited

He’s tired Yn, help him please

Iwaizumi begins showing you around the gym while various, rather large men walk past you

You excitedly ask questions, smiling and laughing

The guys are all like 👀👀👀👀👀

They’d heard about a new prospective manager starting but dang, you were way cuter than they imagined

After the tour you made your way to the gym with Iwaizumi to finally meet the team

As you stood there, adorable and bubbly, they all just stared at you like a bunch of creeps 😅

You remember in Season 2 when Yachi joined Karasuno and Suga had to tell Noya and Tanaka to stop staring…

Yeah that’s exactly what’s happening right now 😂

Iwaizumi is giving everyone his death glare because there is absolutely no way he’s letting anyone ruin this for him!

Iwa rn 👉🏻 🔥 👄🔥

Of course you notice them all looking at you but you simply think it’s because you are new

Delusion is always the solution Yn

“And finally, this is Yn, our new manager. I expect nothing but respect and kindness from you guys!” Coach yells as you smile and wave a greeting

“I’m so excited to work with you all!” You say, smiling bright as your eyes sparkle with excitement

This was the first of many incidents that sealed your fate

Now some of the team members fell hard for you immediately

*cough* ATSUMU, BOKUTO, HINATA *cough*

While others took a while to warm up to you

They all thought you were cute and sweet sure but it was your actions that spoke the loudest

For example…

“Hey Sakusa, I heard you are particular about laundry and hygiene, if you could please tell me the products you prefer so I can accommodate you? Oh and I’d you’d like, I can wear a mask around you to make you more comfortable!” You excitedly spoke, standing 6 feet apart from Sakusa so as to not be right in his space

Sakusa rn 👉🏻👁️👄👁️

“Umm sure I can text you a list and you don’t have to wear a mask if you aren’t comfortable,” he responds, honestly shocked because who are you

You wave your hands and smile, “oh no it’s really ok! I’m very accommodating!”

It was safe to say you’d captured our precious Sakusa’s attention

But it doesn’t stop there

“Hey Suna, I noticed you left your arm guards in on the bench yesterday! I washed them for you last night oh and I recorded a video of Atsumu flubbing a serve and accidently hitting Kageyama. I can send it to you if you’d like?” You laughed as Suna just stared in awe

Who the heck were you and why were you so amazing!

Not only that but you provided help to Aran and Ushijima when it came to taking diligent notes about the teams progress

Made sure Kageyama had plenty to eat and got enough sleep

You measured down to the very millimeter for jump heights, making sure Hoshiumi knew exactly where he stood against the other players

You stayed late to help Komori and Yaku with their receiving practice

You came early to unlock the gym for Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata because lord knows they can’t be out of the gym for more than 8 hours 🙄

You even made sure the guys all followed Iwaizumi’s strict training regime to ensure they all stayed healthy and in the best shape!

It was easy to see why they all had fallen for you!

Competent, pretty, kind, amazing and funny? A perfect combination!

It had been about 6 months and you’d more than proven your worth as a manager

You’d even spent time outside of practice with all of them both individually as well as in groups

Surprisingly they’d all managed to keep their little crushes on you to a minimum

They respected you and didn’t want to mess up anything

When I say “they” I actually mean “most of them”…

Because, ya know, some people just can’t stop themselves 👀

It was safe to say they all knew each other had a crush on their precious manager

But for the sake of teamwork, most of them kept it to themselves

However, there is some people who can only hold it in so long

“I’m thinking about asking YN out this weekend,” Atsumu boldly and nonchalantly says

And just like that, the entire locker room halts

“Excuse me?” Yaku says, staring at Atsumu like he’s about to commit a felony

“What? YN is such a cutie and so awesome! Is it really a surprise that I’d ask them out?” Atsumu replies

All eyes narrow on the setter as he looks back confused

“And what makes you think YN even likes you?” Suna jokes as the rest of the team nods

“Awe come on! It’s pretty safe to say Yn has a crush on me, look at all the stuff they do for me,” Atsumu continues

“So? YN does that for all of us. Plus, maybe another one of us wants to ask them out?” Sakusa adds as Atsumu narrows his eyes

“Ok then, who wants to ask YN out?”

Literally all hands shoot up as the guys look around at each other, eyes wide as the realization sinks in

Soon the shock wears off and they narrow their eyes at each other like a duel in the Ok corral is about to go down 😑

“Well there’s no way all of us asking out YN would be a good idea. We’d probably scare them away!” Komori mentioned

“Nah, if Atsumu hasn’t scared them yet, pretty sure we’re safe,” Aran remarked as Atsumu looked at his friend, offended by his remarks

“What if we draw lots?” Hyakuzawa questioned

“That’s not really far to YN tho, what if they have a particular interest in a member?” Yaku answered

“First one to ask Yn out then?” Hakuba remarked

“Oh yeah, just a bunch of grown ass men running up to YN screaming ‘YN GO OUT WITH ME!’ That sounds like nightmare fuel!” Hoshiumi replied

“Ok so then we let Yn decide,” Iwa added, coming through the doors having just listened to the conversation, “we do our best to win YN’s affections and we let them decide.”

The team all nodded in agreement, ready for the challenge of winning their precious YN’s heart

The next morning, the gym felt different

You could tell immediately the moment you stepped in

“Good morning YN, I bought you coffee!” Iwaizumi smiled, handing you a cup of your favorite pick me up

“Thanks Hajime! I really needed this!”

“Hey Yn, I thought maybe you’d wanna have lunch with me today? My treat,” Yaku interrupted

“That would be awesome Mori!”

“Here Yn, I know how much you love these flowers so I got up early to go to the market to get some,” Sakusa flushed, pushing the flowers in your direction

“Wow thanks Kiyoomi! They are beautiful!”

Were these boys being weird? Sure

Were you gonna fight it? Absolutely not

Now these shenanigans continued for a few weeks and at first they were innocent

But then bringing you coffee, flowers or the occasional chocolate morphed into full blown outings

“Hey YN, I’m going to the art museum this weekend? You wanna come?” Komori asked as your eyes lit up

You loved art!!

“Hey YN, I’m gonna grab sushi tonight after practice, you wanna come?” Gao would ask as your mouth salivated

You loved sushi!

“Hey YN, I’m planning on going to the dog park with Hirugami tonight, you wanna come?” Hoshiumi would ask

Dogs? Say less!

“Hey YN, there’s a new cat cafe that just opened up, you wanna go with me?” Suna would declare

Cats? ABSOLUTELY

It took you a while to catch on that there was something strange going on with these guys

While the putting seemed innocent, their motives definitely were not

After a while, you’d finally gotten sick of it all and just asked

It was after practice, the gym was quiet

And there you were

“What is up with you guys taking me on all these dates for?”

… there to ruin it

Their amount of wide-eyed staring and red faces gave them away quicker than a smoking volcano

You sighed, knowing you had to tell them the truth

“Listen guys, I like you all but only as friends and coworkers ok?”

They all collectively sighed, having all been rejected at the same time

You felt bad but at the same time, they needed to know your feelings for them were platonic

“Hey we can still go out and have fun but it’ll only be as friends ok? Plus I have a boyfriend already.”

Their eyes all shot up at you, wondering who exactly it would be

“Wait you had a boyfriend this whole time?” Atsumu questioned

Yep :D

“Like before you even started working with us?” Yaku asked

Yep : D

“Ok then how come we’ve never met him before?” Sakusa demanded as you smiled

“Oh you have, he talks about you guys all the time!” You respond as everyone but Iwaizumi looks confused

“YN you’re not dating him, please YN anyone but him!” Iwa shouts, running up to you and shaking you as your grin devilishly

It seems to finally hit the others as their eyes go from shocked to horrified in a matter of seconds.

Before they can even process his name, they hear a “yoohoo Yn-Chan” radiate throughout the gym

Surprise an Oikawa ending 😅 if you didn’t see it coming, do you even know who I am? I will always work that man into everything possible!

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joelscruff · 1 year

Text

safety (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader)

just a bit of an origin story for my boyfriend's dad!joel relationship. you can read other installments of this fic here. this one isn't smutty but i hope you enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you find yourself falling for your boyfriend's father. rating: 18+ (mdni) warnings: age difference, cheating, daddy issues, daddy kink, lap sitting, pet names (use of babygirl) word count: 2.2k

the first time your boyfriend's father kisses you, it's because you ask him to.

you've always looked at him a bit differently, always found yourself taking quick peeks out of the corner of your eye whenever he's in the room, given him shy smiles and giggled at all his jokes (most of which were actually funny, believe it or not). the first time you'd met him you'd gone to shake his hand, expecting a firm shake and a quick nod like your own father, but he'd surprised you completely when he'd wrapped you up in his arms, given you a bear hug and softly told you he was so happy to meet you.

your boyfriend always rolls his eyes at his father's affection, his jokes, his quirks. it's been almost disappointing in a way, to see the way his father behaves in comparison to his son. your boyfriend constantly seems to cultivate a cold exterior - and interior, if you're being honest with yourself - while his father radiates warmth and welcomeness, a safeness you've never seen in your own father. you wonder how your boyfriend is able to take such advantage of his father's kindness, that safety that so many people can only crave and never experience.

the two of you fight a lot, but this is normal for you. every relationship you've had - whether familial or romantic - has involved some form of conflict. it's just the way things are; you've come to accept that. the only difference is that before this you never had a third party standing on the outside, witnessing it, worrying about it.

"are you okay?"

the first time he catches you crying you feel embarrassed; until this point you've put on a good front, been your sweet and passive self around him. now he sees a different side of you, the side everyone else in your life has seen dozens of times. the side that hurts, feels pain, suffers.

you nod, leaning against the banister of the front patio and biting your lip, "yeah, i'm fine," your voice cracks and breaks - you're not fine, your boyfriend just berated you for messing up his concentration during one of his stupid games, called you a waste of space. but you're not going to tell his father that.

"you don't look fine," he murmurs, taking a step toward you, "something happen?"

you shake your head, "no really, i'm okay, mr. miller."

"joel," he corrects you softly with a gentle smile, and you try to smile back.

"joel," you repeat, "sorry."

"don't be sorry," he says tenderly, taking another step toward you and carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, "i want you to know...if you ever need to talk to somebody, i'm here. i'll always listen, alright?"

you're not sure what to say; no one has ever given you an offer like that before. it's confusing and surreal. your brow furrows but you slowly nod, "okay."

he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and then goes back inside the house, leaving you standing there alone. the ghost of his touch weighs heavily for the rest of the evening, his words echoing in your mind. he can't really mean that, can he?

the next time he sees you cry it's only about a week after the first time, and this time he knows what's wrong. you can see it in his expression, the quiet anger burning behind his glasses for his own son.

"i won't defend him," he tells you softly, sitting next to you on the couch in the living room while your boyfriend yells something incoherent down the hall, "you can talk to me."

you find yourself confiding in him briefly, only briefly. you don't go into much detail, just tell him you hate being made to feel worthless, that it's something you've dealt with for a long time. he touches your shoulder again, squeezes it calmingly, reassuringly. you look into his eyes and feel yourself falling before you can even register it. he cares about you.

you think about him a lot. during the day, nights, when you're in bed and can't sleep and just want somebody to hold you. you imagine his arms wrapped around you, remember that first time you met when he'd hugged you so tight and welcomed you so warmly. you want him to hold you like that again, touch you, love you. you touch yourself and pretend it's his fingers, you bury your face in your pillow as you come and pretend it's his chest.

you think of him when you have sex with your boyfriend. you'd feel bad, but you've started to become numb with the way he treats you, uses you. you close your eyes and curl your hand in his hair and pretend it's his father on top of you, his father inside you, his father kissing your neck.

every week your boyfriend competes in ridiculously boring online competitions; you show up at his house only for the promise of seeing joel, talking to him, sharing a quick moment in the kitchen or living room with him. you sit on your boyfriend's bed and watch from afar as he bangs on the keyboard and shouts aggressive things into his microphone, sounding like a whiny and petulant child. you wonder what you even see in him anymore, what you even saw in him to begin with. you should end it, you know you should. but then how would you see his dad?

he berates you again for messing up his concentration, tells you to leave for a bit and to "stop being so annoying". you don't even protest, just climb off his bed and leave the room, slamming the door louder than necessary behind you.

joel spends a lot of time in his office; he's the head of a contracting company, always making plans, doing paperwork, making phone calls. he has his shit together, another thing you feel drawn to. he's the only person in your life who seems to know exactly what to do in any given situation, knows who he is and where he's going.

you find yourself climbing the stairs and knocking softly on his office door. "come in," he calls from inside, and you slowly push it open.

he looks up from his desk, scattered with paper and blueprints. his brow furrows when he sees it's you, "hey, sweetheart, you alright?"

you close the door behind you and then stand there for a few seconds just staring at him; he's got on a cozy looking grey sweater, knitted and warm. his jeans are dark and his socks are mismatched, a quirk you love. he looks perfectly disheveled in his joel miller sort of way, hair thick and curly, beard scruffy and soft. his glasses accentuate the kindness of his eyes, the tenderness as he looks at you. he's like a comforting beam of light, a safe haven.

"can you hold me?" you ask softly, barely a whisper. it's out before you even know you're saying it, and then you're biting down hard on your lip and feeling tears prick in your eyes.

he seems surprised but only for a moment, then he makes his way toward you in two long strides and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in and holding you close. you melt into his embrace, burying your head in his warm sweater and almost collapsing into his arms, feeling yourself begin to cry steadily. you should feel embarrassed but you're too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being held by him again, feeling him so close, inhaling the comforting scent of him.

you feel him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture of comfort and safety, nothing more, "you're okay," he murmurs into your hair, "i've got you."

he holds you like that for a long time and makes no move to let go, just lets you stand there and take what you desperately need from him. your cries die down eventually until you're sniffling lightly into the thick fabric of his sweater and just breathing him in. his hands trail up and down your back comfortingly, tracing patterns and words, almost like a secret language.

"i feel safe with you," you mumble against his chest, but the words are muffled and hard to make out.

"hm?"

you pull back a bit to peer up at him with tear-filled eyes, cheeks pink and puffy, "i feel safe with you," you repeat, voice shaky but much more relaxed, calm.

he smiles softly, peering down at you with that familiar tenderness, "i'm glad," he murmurs, and you swear you catch his eyes trail down to your lips for a brief moment, "i want you to feel safe with me."

"can you kiss me?" you whisper, voice breaking on the last word, not caring that this could make or break the quiet companionship you've formed with him, "please."

his brow furrows again but he doesn't pull away, lips parting a bit in surprise, "sweetheart, i'm not sure that's-"

"please," you repeat, voice raw and desperate, "it's all i think about."

his expression relaxes then, the tenderness returning. with a resigned look you watch as he leans his face down toward you; you close your eyes and allow him to press his lips gently against yours, soft and sweet. he's so gentle, so warm, so safe. your arms wrap tighter around him as you kiss him back, a soft whimper falling from the back of your throat. it's perfect. he's perfect.

when he pulls away he leaves his forehead pressed against yours, and when you open your eyes your heart stutters when you see his face so close, lips wet from your saliva and eyes dark with desire.

"that what you needed?" he murmurs softly, nose brushing against yours.

you nod and kiss him again, humming quietly against him when he pulls you in closer and palms your back firmly, holding you close. you're not sure how it happens but you both end up on the small couch in the corner of his office, him sitting back against the cushions while you seat yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. his hands travel inside your shirt, exploring the soft expanse of your back as you whimper again into his mouth and revel in the feeling of being touched by someone so different.

"what else do you need?" he breathes, voice deep and husky as his hands travel from your back to your face, cradling it in his palms, "i'll give it to you, sweetheart, anything you ask. just tell me."

you could say a multitude of things; you could tell him to kiss you again, touch you, fuck you, the list goes on. and you want him to do all of that, but the one thing on your mind is what inevitably slips past your lips.

"i just want you to hold me," you whisper, and you don't care if you sound pathetic, "please."

he looks at you with a great deal of pain in his eyes, an empathetic gaze you've seen numerous times. he thumbs your cheeks, wipes away the tears there and slowly nods.

"okay, babygirl," he murmurs, "i'll hold you."

you sit in his lap for the next hour. it's quiet and peaceful and perfect; he rubs your back while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and letting his presence completely invade your senses. you fall asleep briefly, but when you wake up you're happy to find that you're still in his lap, still being held. he makes absolutely no moves to remove you from him, to pull away or leave the room. he just holds you.

"thank you," you whisper finally; it's time to leave, you know this. your boyfriend will be looking for you soon, wondering where you went and why you didn't come back. you pull your face up from joel's neck and look down at him with tenderness, love.

"any time," he murmurs with a gentle smile, then leans forward a bit to press a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, "i mean it, sweetheart. any time you're upset, any time you need to be held...you come to me, okay?"

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep the tears at bay, "no one's ever held me like this before," you whisper, "not even my own father."

his brows scrunch together and he touches your arms, squeezing them carefully in his hands, "i'm sorry, babygirl," he breathes, "you don't deserve that," his eyes capture yours in an intimate gaze, "you deserve the world."

the word is there, fighting to be spoken behind your lips. but you don't say it. you don't want to make him uncomfortable, don't want to ruin something that's only just started. but you feel it there, the desire to call him what you've been wanting to call him since the day you met. but that's a conversation for another day.

instead of words, you settle for a kiss. you lean down and touch your mouth to his, feel the gentle scratch of his scruff against your chin as you open a bit wider to allow his tongue to prod inside, just for a moment. he tastes like comfort, feels like safety.

daddy.

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

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amaramizuki666 · 1 year

Text

Dp x DC crossover

So in this au let's say danny is john Constantine's dad right. Right. Anyway.

The JL need the ghost king for something and ask JL dark to help them with the summoning but Constantine flat out told them in his words "fuck no I will NEVER help you summon the ghost king, believe me you dont want to meet him". So the JL assume that the ghost king is some big bad because even John-im-not-afraid-to-sell-my-soul-to-get-the-job-done-Constantine told practically ordered them not to summon him.

But the JL really do need the ghost king so they do try to summon him but john found out and stopped them. And it goes on and on where the JL try to summon the ghost king but john stops them. And the JL get frustrated and wonder women says "look we understand he is a truly evil, vile, creature but we do need him". John looks at her like she just killed a man, he may not want to summon danny but that's his father and NOBODY talks about his dad that way. So John snaps and yells "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT, HE ISNT VILE, OR EVIL HELL HE DOSNT EVEN FUCKING CURSE."

Everyone goes quite looking at Constantine. The flash is the first to speak "if he isnt bad new then why dont you want us to summon him?" John rolls his eyes and grumbled "because its fucking embarrassing" and the JL are just so confused.

John sighs and says something in Latin, the summoning circle they made starts glowing and fog starts pouring out. A teen dressed in a black jump suit why gloves and white boots wearing a cape, has glowing green eyes, snowy hair, and hase a green fire crown above his head appears.

The teen looked at john and glares. The JL figured out this was the ghost king and he didnt look happy. He stepped out of the circle and made his way over to john.

The rest of the JL think john is about to die and are ready to step in when the king says "why. Do. You. Have. A. Contract. On . Your. Soul. AGAIN?!" Exasperated. The JL then watched the Literal king of the dead berate and lecture john on soul contract safety. Yeah john was so embarrassed.

#writing prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batfam #dc #dc comics #dc x dp #jason todd #john constantine #justice league #justic league dark

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its-avalon-08 · 19 days

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hi !! can you do headcanons max verstappen X senna’s daugther!reader?

thank uuuu

hii !!! if i were to imagine senna's daughter!reader she would be so talented. she isn't a driver because of her built up trauma. (im fully aware that the timelines don't add up, don't add logic into it <3) she is an aerodynamic engineer, mainly responsible for making the car. she is secretly in love with speed and racing.

max and y/n met when they were just kids. max was a menace on track and y/n was terrified of racing. she saw speeding cars as a reminder of her father's passing. being good friends, y/n has a tradition of kissing max's helmet as a feeble attempt to keep him safe.

they started dating in 2019, and have been together ever since. y/n being the absolute genius she is, continues to work in redbull and delivers top of the line car designs leading to the dominance as seen on track.

max leaves a single, perfect red tulip on y/n's desk every race weekend, a silent promise to return safely.

y/n hides little notes in max's helmet before qualifying, each one a technical insight phrased like a love letter.

max, despite his aversion to early mornings, wakes up before y/n on important presentations to make her breakfast, his way of calming her pre-work jitters.

y/n, who finds airplanes stressful, uses a calming app max downloaded for her whenever they travel together.

max, after a particularly grueling race weekend, finds y/n curled up on the couch with a book about aerodynamics. he joins her, listening intently as she explains a new concept she's been working on, his full attention the sweetest victory lap.

max knows how deeply the lack of a father figure affected her, causing under-confidence and a constant need of validation. max knows this and never stops giving her words of affirmations.

everyone of the grid adores y/n. they see her spirit and her beautiful face reflect senna's in so many ways. max is fiercely protective of y/n, often defending her from questions about her father and his death.

y/n hates jos verstappen from the bottom of her heart. she is not scared of yelling at him when he berates max. she whispers affirmations into max's ears after a bad race (which was rare but not impossible)

when max crashes, y/n is the first to suffer from the highest intensity of a panic attack. she shivers and trembles until max gets out safely. after the crash in 2021 with hamilton which caused max to fall over in the medical center, y/n angirly stormed towards the cheerful hamilton, shouting angrily.

here's what happened ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

the smile evaporated as y/n marched towards him. it wasn't a walk, it was a storm surge. "congratulations? you call pushing max off the track at 200 mph congratulations?" her voice, usually calm and collected, was a tightly leashed fury. lewis blinked, his smile morphing into something defensive. "it was a racing incident, y/n. we both went for the corner." her voice cracked. "racing incident? you call leaving him stranded on the gravel, risking his life, a racing incident? do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you love walk away from a fireball?" the room held its breath. lewis's face paled. "y/n, i…" "no, you don't," she cut him off, her voice thick with emotion. "you don't get to pretend you know what it's like to see your dreams vanish in a cloud of smoke. you don't get to understand the terror of every single corner, every single race because you haven't lost anyone on this damn track!" tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the accusing stare she fixed on him. "max is more than a rival, lewis. he's a friend, a teammate, a human being. and today, you gambled with his life for a trophy." the silence stretched, suffocating. finally, lewis spoke, his voice devoid of its usual bravado. "y/n, i… i didn't…" "you didn't think," she finished the sentence for him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "just like some people never think about the consequences of their actions." turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence and a champion stripped of his celebratory air. as y/n reached the red bull garage, she found max emerging from the medical center, a sheepish grin on his face. relief washed over her, so strong it brought her to her knees. max rushed to her side, his concern a warm balm on her raw emotions. he held her close, whispering reassurances into her hair.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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wholoveseggs · 3 months

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hello gorgeous! i got another idea! How about reader going through a divorce where the husband is really an arrogant asshole, permanently making fun of her etc. And then she meets Elijah, and they start getting close and he helps her gain her confidence back and shows her how she should be treated. And maybe a few months later, after the divorce, she meets the ex-husband somewhere again and he tries to humiliate her again but Elijah is there and he puts him in his place. Smut is very much welcomed. 🫶🏻

Change

I hate Antoinette, but they were hot together

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your marriage causes you to feel trapped and worthless. Until you meet a handsome stranger at a café and he shows you how much more you can be.

♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag, I hope you enjoy it! ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angsty, smutty, reader has low self-esteem, husband is verbally & financially abusive, cheating, car sex, Elijah being a bit of a rascal.

When you first got together with John, he was just so charming and you couldn't help but fall for him. It was hard to say no to him, and you were in a haze of love for a long time. He was such an extrovert, loud and funny, and you felt like you couldn't live without him.

But over the course of your marriage things started to change, his mask slipping and showing the real John underneath. At first it was just a comment here and there, you told yourself he was just having a bad day, but then it just kept getting worse.

The day you stopped loving him, was the day he had a bad day at work and decided to take it out on you. You cooked his favorite dinner, trying to make him feel better, and when he came home, he told you to order takeout instead. You were in the middle of making it, so you just told him it would be done soon, and tried to ignore him.

He took the food and threw it in the sink, and started yelling. You were so stunned, you just stood there and let him. He said the most terrible things, telling you how worthless and pathetic you were, that no one would ever want you if they knew you were like this.

A part of you started to believe him, because no matter how hard you tried to be a good wife, you just weren't. John was so kind and charming to everyone else, so it clearly had to be your fault.

You slowly stopped talking to your friends and family, you were probably annoying them anyways.

John eventually cheated on you, and then you found out he was cheating with multiple women. He would disappear for days at a time, off with someone else. You didn't even care, you didn't love him anymore.

Abuse is insidious like that, you become numb to it all, your brain normalizes it to help you cope, until you don't realize that you are being abused. Until you think it's your fault...

You woke to the sound of yelling, your usual alarm clock these days. John was a loud and obnoxious man, and he had no problem screaming at you whenever the mood struck him.

Today's argument was over you sleeping in. You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer, and John couldn't stand to wait another moment. So he went ahead and had to make his own breakfast, and then came upstairs to berate you.

"You really are a lazy slob! I bet you didn't do any of the laundry either. Get up and clean the house!"

You slowly got out of bed, lately your coping mechanism was ignoring him. If you didn't say anything perhaps he wouldn't yell at you. It wasn't a great coping mechanism, but it was the only thing keeping you sane.

"Are you fucking stupid? Answer me!" John yelled as you walked into the bathroom, closing the door in his face.

That didn't stop him, he yelled through the door, and you turned on the shower. Perhaps you would stand there for an hour, just to piss him off.

Just when you started to relax under the warm water he started banging on the door.

"You've been in there too long, wasting the water I pay for. Get out!"

You didn't have a job, because John told you he would take care of you. You were young and naive, you learned the hard way that being financially beholden to any man was a bad idea.

You finally turned off the shower and dried off. You put on a baggy shirt and sweats, and opened the door. He was gone, probably downstairs watching tv.

You got dressed and headed to your craft room, you spent a lot of time in there. You enjoyed painting intricate scenes on canvases, it was the only thing that gave you joy anymore.

When you painted, your mind would go completely blank, and you would lose yourself in the art. Sometimes you would paint for hours and not even notice.

You put on some music and started working on a landscape. You didn't realize how much time passed until the door opened.

John must of had a day off work because he was still home, he usually left by this time. He stood there and watched you for a moment.

"I'm bored and hungry. Make me lunch."

"I'm not your maid. Make it yourself," you mumbled, not taking your eyes off the canvas.

"Why the fuck do you even waste your time with that? Do you think anyone cares about your mediocre shit?" He snapped.

He's right, no one would care about your paintings, even if you shared them. You weren't that talented, it was purely a form of escape. But a small part of you dreamed of being able to sell your artwork and live off the income.

You set down your paintbrush and sighed.

"I don't do it to show off, I do it because I enjoy it. It calms my mind and makes me happy," you answered.

He laughed, a cruel and mocking sound. He had no appreciation for art or culture, he only cared about money and power. He stepped forward and ripped the canvas off the easel, and started tearing it to pieces.

"How's that for making you happy? Do you still want to paint? Be a famous artist? Real Picasso you are!" He sneered, laughing at his own joke.

You didn't want him to see you cry, so you just got up, grabbed your things and walked out of the house. You felt so weak, such a pushover, unable to defend yourself against his cruelty. A little voice in your head told you that you deserved it, no one knew you better than John, so if he said you were worthless and pathetic, then you must be.

There was a cafe near your house, you always went there when John was being too much for you to handle. It was a cute little spot that doubled as a vintage book store. Dark wooden bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling, plants in every corner and a cozy seating area with large comfortable couches and chairs. It also displayed paintings from local artists on its walls, you enjoyed the ambiance of the place, it made you feel at peace. You would buy a coffee and sit in there for hours reading.

You had seen the same man there a couple times, and his striking appearance caught your eye. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his brown eyes piercing, and his strong jawline was covered in stubble. There was something about him that drew you in, but you were far too shy to ever approach him. What would you even say to a man like that? Hey, I think you a stupidity beautiful? Is the book you're reading good? What do you do for fun? It all sounded so pathetic in your head, so you stayed away.

You noticed that he was always nice and polite to the waitresses and he tipped generously. You wondered if he was like John, that it was all just a facade and that he was secretly cruel underneath his mask of civility. But his face was always soft, his voice gentle, and the way he held the door open for other people gave you hope that he was a genuinely nice man.

You would never see him in anything other than a three piece suit, which was unusual for this neighborhood. His dark blue, or sometimes black suits, fit him so well and complemented his skin tone. He wore crisp white shirts and you could tell he was muscular underneath, not bulky, but lean.

You would sip on your coffee, reading, and stealing glances of him out of the corner of your eye. It was probably pathetic, but the way he looked and carried himself made you feel good, so you let yourself.

One day as you were reading your book, you noticed him reading the same book. Perhaps it was the extra espresso shot you added to your coffee or the fact that it was the first sunny day in weeks, but you found the courage to get up and introduce yourself.

"Hey, uh, I see you have excellent taste in books," you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when he made eye contact. You fought the urge to run away, his gaze was intense, but not harsh.

"It seems you do as well," he returned the smile, his voice was like velvet. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, join me."

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you sat down, trying your best to maintain eye contact and not blush.

"What made you choose this particular book?" He asked, gesturing at it.

"Honestly, the cover. The art style is really appealing," you told him, blushing a bit. The way he was looking at you made your breath catch in your throat.

"Interesting, I thought the same thing." He chuckled, closing his book and holding out his hand. "I'm Elijah, by the way."

"Y/N," you introduced yourself, taking his hand and shaking it.

"What do you think of it?" He asked, leaning back in his armchair, your gaze lingered on his arms as he crossed them.

"What?" You said, feeling your cheeks heating up. Why did you have to be so stupid all the time?

"The book, what do you think of the book?" He chuckled, tilting his head and smiling.

You talked about the book, the writing, the characters, and how you thought it was going to end. You ended up talking for hours, he was easy to talk to. You found yourself getting more and more relaxed around him.

Elijah had this aura about him, an air of confidence that was oddly comforting. He was polite and charming, with only a hint of a mysterious accent that intrigued you.

"I can't believe we've been sitting here for so long," you laughed. "I didn't mean to keep you, I'm sure you have other places to be."

"No, I have nowhere I need to be, I'm enjoying your company," he said softly. You noticed his gaze lingered on your lips.

You glanced down at your watch and saw that it was nearly 11pm. "Wow, I should go, my husband is probably wondering where I am." You got up and dug around in your purse to pay the bill.

"I would love to see you again," Elijah said as you pulled out your wallet. "Here, let me." He pulled out his own wallet and handed the waitress some cash.

A giddy, almost school girlish, smile spread across your face. "Oh, okay. Thank you, that would be great." You stuttered a bit, blushing and putting your wallet away.

"Have a lovely night," he said softly, getting up and kissing the back of your hand.

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn't wipe the silly grin off of your face as you left. You hadn't felt this feeling in so long, and the thought of seeing him again filled you with joy.

The next few weeks felt like a dream, every day you would go to the cafe and read. You would sit in Elijah's section, and after a while he would show up and sit across from you, drinking his coffee.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said the first time. "I just enjoy your company."

"You're not interrupting," you blushed, putting your book down. "I enjoy your company as well."

As time went on, the conversations got more and more personal. He asked about your job, your life, and your husband. You didn't want to talk about John, it was hard to admit you had been in a bad marriage for so long. You told him a little, about how you both fell out of love, and were basically roommates.

Elijah would listen intently, and would always ask the right questions. He was very good at drawing information out of you. But whenever he got too close to the truth you would change the subject.

It was obvious that he was a good listener and had a kind heart. You wondered why he bothered with you, a nobody, when he was clearly such a sophisticated man. He could have anyone, and yet he was sitting with you.

One day he brought you a gift, it was a tiny ornamental bird, painted a beautiful shade of green. It was just like the one in the first book you both read, and you had told him how much you liked it. You were speechless, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You decided to make him a gift, and spent all day working on it. It was a bookmark with an image of a forest painted on it. You used a mix of acrylic and watercolor, the greens and browns blending together.

John walked in on you finishing up, and sneered at your painting. "Are you trying to impress somebody with that? No one's gonna want that ugly thing." He said, scoffing.

Your heart sank and you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was right, who would want it? It was nothing special.

You were going to give it to Elijah anyways, but you kept second guessing yourself. He wouldn't want it, it was a stupid idea.

He came into the cafe a little later that day, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. Your stomach twisted into knots, and you felt your palms starting to sweat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound normal. "How are you today?"

"I'm well, how are you?" He replied, sitting across from you.

"I'm good, thank you," you nodded. You decided it was now or never. "So, I made this for you," you blurted out, holding out the bookmark. Your face was hot, and you wished you could hide under the table.

Elijah's face lit up, and he gave a wide crooked smile. "This is wonderful, thank you," he said.

You watched as he picked it up, admiring the artwork. He traced the pattern of trees with his finger and he seemed completely enamored with it.

"You are very talented, do you sell these?," he asked. He looked up and saw the expression on your face.

“Oh god no, I don't know about that, I mean, I just do it for fun, and..."

You were interrupted by your phone ringing, it was John.

"Sorry, one moment," you said, answering the call.

"Where the hell are you? It's past 8pm, and I'm starving, come home and cook dinner," he growled.

You felt your cheeks heat up under Elijah's gaze, shame and embarrassment washed over you.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I'll be right home," you whispered, you felt so small.

"Hurry up, lazy ass," John snapped before hanging up.

You put your phone away, and forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, I forgot my husband was cooking dinner," you lied.

Elijah nodded, his brow furrowing a bit. "Alright, have a lovely night," he said.

"You too," you mumbled as you quickly grabbed your things and left.

You cried all the way home, feeling like a such a loser, a complete failure. Why couldn't you have someone like Elijah in your life? Someone who listened, someone who cared, someone who didn't berate you every second of the day.

You wondered what Elijah thought of you, did he see you as pathetic and weak? A fool that let her husband walk all over her?

It didn't matter, he was so out of your league, you were just a stupid, fat nobody. He would never want you, no one would.

When you showed up to the cafe the next day you noticed a fancy sports car with tinted windows parked out front. It looked very out of place on your street, the only people around who had cars like that were old rich people, and the occasional drug dealer.

Before you reached the door you heard your name being called, and turned around. You saw Elijah waving at you from the driver's seat of the car.

You approached the passenger seat window, and he smiled, beckoning you to get in. You sat down and he handed you a cup of coffee, you smiled at the gesture, he knew your order.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

"I want to show you something," he said, pulling on to the street.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's a surprise," he said, smirking.

You had no idea where he was taking you, but you didn't mind. You were excited to spend some more time with him.

When he pulled up to the local community centre you were very confused. You couldn't imagine why Elijah wanted to bring you here, maybe it was part of the surprise.

You both got out of the car and entered the building. Inside there was a craft show going on, local artists had set up tables displaying their wares.

His thoughtfulness touched you deeply, he had taken the time to bring you here because he knew you loved art.

The next couple hours were spent perusing the aisles and admiring the paintings, sculptures and crafts. Elijah seemed to have an interest in all of it, asking lots of questions and complimenting the artists. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, it's something you admired about him.

"You could get a booth here, sell your art if you wanted," he suggested.

"Oh, I don't know about that, this is just a hobby," you said, brushing off his idea.

"Why not?" He pressed.

"I...well, no one would want my stuff, I mean, they're just little paintings," you sighed

"I would, I think you're very talented," he said softly.

Your heart swelled at his words.

"Thanks," you smiled.

After the craft show, he drove you home, you made him park at the end of the street. You knew how jealous John could get, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see you getting dropped off by a handsome stranger.

"Thank you, Elijah, this was fun," you said.

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied.

"You can't tell anyone about this, I mean, if John finds out, he'll..." You trailed off, feeling stupid.

"He will what?" Elijah's eyes were full of concern.

"Oh, he just, gets jealous easily," you said, fumbling over your words.

"Are you not allowed to have friends?" His brow furrowed, and his eyes hardened a bit.

"No, I mean, I can have friends, I'm just not, uh, supposed to have guy friends," you admitted.

"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship," Elijah said, his voice sounding slightly deeper than usual. "How about business partners?"

"What?" You were confused.

"If I could help you with your art career, get you a booth at the craft fair, promote your work, would that be allowed?"

"Uh, I guess so," you said.

"Excellent, let's meet tomorrow, discuss what needs to be done," he smiled.

"Okay," you smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your body.

When you got home you decided not to tell John, the last thing you wanted was an argument. Maybe if you were successful and sold a lot, then he would be happy for you, but that was just wishful thinking.

You and Elijah had been meeting up once a week for two months, discussing your art, and ways to improve your sales. He was an expert at marketing, and had already gotten you some commissions.

It was nice to have something else to focus on, instead of constantly being reminded that you were a failure. And for the first time in your life you were making your own money, it felt good.

You started to feel more confident in yourself, Elijah was always saying how talented and special you were, and it was beginning to stick.

Today was the craft fair, and you were nervous, what if no one bought anything? What if they all hated it and thought it was ugly?

Elijah pulled up in his fancy car, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. You both had gotten so much closer in the last couple months, and he had become your best friend. He was the only person in your life that made you feel like you mattered.

Your feelings for him were beyond friendship, but you couldn't risk losing him. It was better to have him as a friend, than nothing at all.

The craft fair was going well, you had already sold two pieces, and were chatting with some customers.

"Oh my goodness, this is gorgeous," one of the customers, an older woman, exclaimed.

"Thank you," you beamed.

"How long have you and your husband been selling these?" She asked, gesturing to you and Elijah.

"Oh, uh, we're not married," you blushed.

"Sorry, I just assumed, your ring..." she trailed off.

You glanced down at your hand and saw your wedding band, the simple gold band John had given you so many years ago.

"I am married, just not to him, we are just business partners," you smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, my mistake," the woman said, returning your smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"It's okay," you blushed, trying to busy yourself by wrapping the painting she had purchased.

"You'd make a lovely couple," the woman said, handing you her credit card.

Your face burned, and your palms began to sweat. You had tried your best to not think of him that way, it wasn't fair to him, or to John. But the thought was always in the back of your mind.

"Thank you, have a nice day," you managed, handing her the wrapped painting.

"You too dear," she said, winking.

You sold out quickly, and decided to celebrate with a drink at a nearby bar.

"I'm very proud of you," Elijah smiled. "You have a natural gift."

"Thanks," you said, feeling yourself blush.

He leaned in close and took your hand, tracing your wedding band. "This doesn't suit you," he said.

"Excuse me?" You squeaked, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering madly.

He ignored your reaction and just grinned, his fingers intertwining with yours. You stared at your hands, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He said, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Sure," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him.

"Why didn't John show up to support you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Your heart sank. You had purposefully not told John, not wanting to hear him complain about it, or belittle you.

"Well, um, I didn't really invite him," you confessed.

"Why not?"

"Because, I knew he wouldn't care," you sighed. "And I don't want him to know I'm earning my own money,"

"Because you plan on leaving him." It wasn't a question.

"Y-yeah, eventually," you stammered.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand. "Good, you deserve better," he murmured, his lips still grazing your skin.

You didn't know what to say, your head was spinning and you felt hot all over.

"You never talk about him, but I can tell you are unhappy," he said, sitting back.

"It's complicated," you whispered.

"You can talk to me," he said.

You paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. You had never talked to anyone about your feelings for John, it was too difficult.

"Well, we used to be happy, when we first got married, but now he's not the same," you said, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

"How so?"

"He's controlling and possessive, and he yells a lot. He doesn't love me anymore, and I'm not sure he ever did," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "He cheats on me regularly and controls the finances. Selling my art is the first opportunity I've had to earn money of my own, and I'm terrified of what he'll do if he finds out."

You felt yourself begin to cry, and tried to wipe the tears away, ashamed that your life had turned out this way.

"You hold all of this pain inside, it's not healthy," Elijah said, his face was unreadable.

"I know," you sobbed. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying, it's so stupid."

"It's not stupid, you're not stupid," he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

You looked into his eyes, his face full of concern. He cared about you, and it was a relief to finally have someone to confide in. You feared that Elijah would reject you, see you as pathetic, but he didn't. He stayed by your side, listening and offering comfort.

"If you ever decide to leave him, you are more than welcome to stay with me," he said.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my friend," he smiled.

You threw your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you," you mumbled.

He froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You inhaled his scent, a mixture of cologne and whiskey. He was solid and warm, and you felt safe in his embrace.

"Thank you, for everything," you repeated, beginning to pull away, but he held you in place.

You felt something stir deep inside, something primal and raw. The heat from his body, the way his strong arms felt around you, and the closeness of his face was overwhelming.

He kissed your cheek as you pulled back, and his lips lingered there for a moment. Your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you could feel the warmth from his breath.

You sat back and looked at him, his eyes were dark and full of desire, your fingers intertwined with his. The air was thick with tension, and the electricity between the two of you was undeniable.

"I should get home," you said softly, not really wanting to leave.

"Of course," he said, his voice was deep and raspy, his grip on your hand tightening.

You paid the bill, and walked out to the parking lot. Elijah stood close beside you, and his hand brushed yours a few times as you walked to his car.

Before you could open the passenger side door you felt his hands on your hips. He spun you around and pressed you against the car, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. You gasped as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your arms snaked around his neck, and your fingers ran through his hair. His hands slid down your hips and grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

His kiss was passionate and needy, and he moaned softly into your mouth. The sound sent a wave of heat through your body, and you felt your panties getting wet.

After a few moments, he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, both of you panting.

"Right, okay," he said, his breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you breathed, not really sure what to say.

He pulled away and went to open the passenger door for you, but you stopped him. You felt bold and daring, and the alcohol gave you a confidence boost. You motioned to the back door, and he smirked, pushing you up against the car and kissing you again before opening the door.

You climbed in and he followed, his hands grabbing your waist as his lips found yours again. You moaned into the kiss, the heat between your legs intensifying.

The windows fogged up as you undressed, you were grateful for the tinted windows. You moved onto his lap in just your bra and panties, running your fingers through his hair. He kissed your neck and whispered your name.

"We shouldn't do this," you murmured, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

"I know," he replied, his lips brushing against your ear.

Elijah placed feather-light kisses down your throat, his hands running up and down your back.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice thick with desire

"No," you breathed, clutching him tightly.

He reached around your waist and unclasped your bra, gently removing it and tossing it into the front seat. He ran his tongue across your breasts, circling each nipple before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands running up and down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

You blushed, your heated skin flush against his, feeling his hard cock between your legs.

"So are you," you breathed, kissing his neck and grinding against him.

Elijah groaned, his hand coming down to grip your hip and help guide your movements. You were so turned on, it had been so long since you had sex, and John was never a generous lover. You wanted Elijah so badly, you felt like you were going to combust.

His lips found yours, and you kissed him with everything you had. The heat between the two of you turning into a raging fire.

Suddenly the moment was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You both tried to ignore it, but it just rang again, and again, and again.

You broke the kiss and grabbed your phone, seeing it was your husband calling. "Fuck," you cursed, and you answered it.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?!" He demanded.

"I've been busy," you replied. Elijah began kissing your neck again, a smirk on his lips as he listened. You suppressed a moan as he began to guide your hips, helping you grind against his hard cock.

"Busy doing what?! Who are you with?!" John shouted.

"I'm just with some friends, don't worry about it," you gasped.

"You don't have any friends," he spat.

"I do," you insisted, trying not to moan as Elijah's hand dipped into your panties.

"What are their names?" John questioned angrily.

"Elijah," you moaned as his thumb brushed your clit.

"The fuck!" John yelled, going completely into a rage. The kind that always frightened you, he always had a short temper.

Elijah could see the fear on your face and took the phone from you, tucking it under his neck as he continued to pleasure you.

"John, is it?" He asked, his voice cool and calm. "This is Elijah, I'm going to need you to calm down, you are scaring your wife," he said.

"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, don't think I won't track you down and fucking kill you," John spat, his anger reaching a boiling point.

Elijah chuckled, slipping a finger inside you and making you moan, you quickly covered your mouth, but Elijah moved your hand away and gave you a wicked grin, still speaking into the phone.

"That's a little violent, don't you think?" He murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Besides, I'd love to see you try," he smirked.

John went silent, you could hear his ragged breathing.

"Why do you pretend like you care John? She told me you fuck other people, I mean, who would blame her for finding a real man?" Elijah goaded.

You were shocked by his words, but couldn't deny how hot it was, or how aroused they were making you.

"Listen here motherfucker," John snarled, "she's mine, and I will not allow her to be touched by anyone el-"

Elijah hung up the call and discarded your phone, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you.

"Now, where were we?" He asked, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

"I can't believe that just happened," you said, panting as his lips trailed down your neck.

"You don't need to worry about him anymore," he growled. "You are mine now."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at his possessiveness. But a part of you liked it, it made you feel desired, wanted.

"And I am yours," he added, his lips finding yours again, a deep and passionate kiss.

It started to rain, you could hear the droplets hitting the roof of the car. Making everything seem more intimate, as if it were just the two of you in the entire world.

You reached down and fumbled with the zipper of his pants, he lifted his hips and helped you get them down, his cock springing free. You wrapped a hand around it and began stroking him, his moans sending a thrill through your body.

"You don't ever have to go back to him," he whispered.

"I won't," you promised, your lips finding his once more.

He guided your hips, his cock teasing your entrance, and then you slowly eased down into him. He felt so good, a rush of pleasure coursed through your body. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking against him.

The fire between you grew, the windows completely fogged up now. Your skin slick with sweat as you rode him slowly. Foreheads pressed together, you moved in perfect unison, a steady rhythm of passion.

You knew this would change everything, and that things were about to get very complicated. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All you cared about was being with Elijah, the only man who had ever made you feel loved and worthy.

John had taken everything from you, and had made your life miserable for the last ten years. You were trapped and made to feel it was what you deserved. But not anymore.

Elijah had shown you that you were worth more, that you deserved to be loved and cherished. He gave you the tools you needed to leave John, and the strength to do it. You would have never left him without Elijah.

And as you looked into his eyes, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you knew this was right, what love was supposed to feel like. You could see the emotions reflected in his eyes, the intensity of his feelings for you, the same intensity you felt.

You felt his muscles tense and knew he was close, his cock swelling inside you. You moved faster, chasing your own orgasm, wanting to come together. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, and when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was intense, and he came with you.

The sounds of your moans and heavy breathing filled the car, the rain pattering against the windows. You clung to each other, hearts racing, trying to catch your breath.

As the high slowly faded, you both started laughing, giddy and sated. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he returned it, a smile playing at his mouth.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," you replied, kissing him again.

He held you tight, his lips finding yours in the darkness. You were finally free, and the world was yours for the taking.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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florencemtrash · 10 months

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Two

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Miguel grumbled, furiously trying to rub away the oncoming headache as the newly updated Spider-Gang continued to berate him. Jessica only leaned forward on her motorcycle, smirking at the sight of his towering figure surrounded by teenagers.

Gwen prodded him with a pointed finger, “What the hell, Miguel! I can’t believe you-”

“We trusted you and-”

“So what now you’re just on our side like some-”

Miles’s palms sparked threateningly, “You were going to let my Dad die!”

“Hold the baby, Migs.” Peter tried in vain to shove a babbling Mayday into his hands, “She’s going to make you feel so much better.”

“You and I are gonna have some serious fisticuffs you turtle-”

“You let the power get to your head like some capitalistic-”

Peni’s robot chittered angrily.

“Ok, ok, OK!” Miguel yelled, “Everyone just QUIET!” Turning on his heels so that his broad shoulders blocked out the skyline, he began to mutter, “Dios mío. ¿Qué estoy haciendo? Estos niños me van a matar. Mierda.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth.

“I messed up.” he murmured under his breath.

Hobie propped himself up against his guitar, “Sorry bruv, don’t think I heard you ri-”

“I MESSED UP!” Miguel shouted, throwing his hands up in his air. Everyone except Hobie and Miles took a step back. This was the closest thing to an apology any of them could hope to get, and far more than they were expecting to hear from him. “Now in case you’ve forgotten, we still have an imminent multiversal collapse on our hands!”

“Very imminent,” Lyla said, floating on her back and propping her holographic feet up on Miguel’s shoulder.

Miles stepped forward in the silence, all eyes on him.

He still had to tilt his head up to meet Miguel’s eyes, but he didn’t feel small. No. He wasn’t small. He wasn’t weak. He was Spider-Man, and together they were going to fix this.

“I still don’t like you but,” he stuck out his hand, “Welcome to the Spider-Gang, Miguel.”

>>>

“Lyla, take a scan of the-” Gwen spun out of a wormhole, crashing into his side.

“Sorry!” A web shot out of her wrist, pulling her towards the skylight as Miles flipped across the room in a red and black blur.

“Spot, please!” Miles’s voice bounced around the room, sound waves rippling out from a hundred spots at once, “You don’t have to do this.”

Lyla flickered to life on Miguel’s shoulder, a holographic lollipop sticking out the corner of her mouth, “I’m on it!”

Miguel caught himself on the wall, blades screeching on metal as a dozen more spots popped into existence around him. Rain pelted him from all sides, distracting him long enough for the hub of a cop car to fly out and flatten him against the wall.

The Spot dipped in and out of the ground, basking in the remnants of the Super-Collider and swallowing up bits and pieces of metal and granite in the process. Wormholes had already started to crop up all around New York, threatening the destruction of buildings as cars and trains suddenly found themselves hundreds of feet above the ground.

“It’s a proper mess out here mates,” Hobie’s voice called out from Miguel’s watch, followed by the shattering of glass, “How much longer is this going to take?”

“I just need fifteen more minutes,” Margo said. A crash sounded in the background along with Jessica’s colorful words, “... maybe twenty.”

“We don’t have twenty minutes,” Miguel grunted, flinging his body across the room. He strung his webs around a battered console, whipping it around and aiming it directly at the Spot. He only chuckled, lifting his hand and opening a portal. The console smashed into Miguel’s back, sending him crashing to the ground.

Lyla pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with an audible pop! “Scan of the room’s complete. You’re in luck! You’ve got about 17 minutes before the structural integrity of the building goes kaput, starting with the northwest corner.” Her finger glitched as she pointed.

Joder.

“Guys no. I can do this.” Miles said, his voice tight with effort as he continued to jump around the room, whipping metal at the Spot to distract him long enough to swing to safety. He could make the Spot see reason. He had to.

Margo and Jessica scrambled about the control room three stories up, Margo’s virtual reality body glitching from anxiety as she threaded wires together and fumbled around on the computers in the control room. This dimension’s technology was ancient compared to hers and she was finding it hard to make the adjustment.

“You really think that would work?” She asked Miles. They all stood side by side atop Alchemax, staring down into the remnants of the Super-Collider where the Spot floated around aimlessly in a pool of black ether. Every so often Margo was certain she could see visions of other dimensions poking through the fabric of spacetime - A baseball game, an explosion, a thousand ships cruising past a desert planet.

“He got his powers using the Super Collider,” Miles reasoned, “Absorbed dark matter energy from countless universes. Reverse the process and we might be able to send it all back to their original dimensions.”

“Leaving him powerless.” Hobie finished, shoving his hands into his jacket and nodding, “I like it.”

“It’ll be a large scale Go-Home-Machine.” Margo murmured, nodding in understanding as the plan fell into place.

“But you gotta let me talk to him first.” Miles narrowed a pointed glare at Miguel. “Let me make him see reason. End this before it even begins.”

“Are you joking? That’s too risky.” Miguel growled out.

“This could kill him!”

“Oh come on, Miguel, give Miles a chance!” Pavitr had to balance on the tip of his toes to sling an arm around Miguel’s shoulders. “He’s Spider-Man! This will be easy for him! Use that charm and compassion and-”

“Fine.” Miguel said, shrugging Pavitr off, “We’ll try it your way.”

The Spot walked forward menacingly, noting with pride how Miles backed away, hands lifted up in front of him, “So now you want to talk?”

“Listen, Jonathan - it’s Jonathan, right? - We don’t have to do this. I’m sorry I made fun of you before. I’m sorry that I disregarded you after everything you’ve been through. But you have to understand what you’re doing. This is going to destroy everything. Everything. The universe, the multiverse, all of it. You’ve got the power to-”

“There’s no Jonathan anymore, only the Spot. You still think I’m joking don’t you? You still think we’re going to make up after a grand old speech - that you’re going to save me. Well it’s too late for that, kid.”

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, a portal opening to his left. Someone tumbled out wearing a paint stained Brooklyn Visions Academy sweatshirt.

Miguel’s heart stopped beating.

He would recognize you anywhere - in any universe.

“Y/n?” he breathed out.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Spider-Man.” He snapped his fingers again and a portal opened up beneath your feet. The last thing you heard was the Spot's laughter as you began to fall from the sky.

“NO!” Miguel sprang into action, red laser webs flinging out to the walls as he threw himself into the air.

“Nuh uh.” The Spot shook his finger, throwing a spot at Miguel and portaling him away, “No help! That’s cheating.”

Miles sprinted up the walls, tracking the small dot of your figure as you flailed about wildly more than two hundred feet up, desperately trying to straighten your arms and slow your fall. The wind carried your screams away.

He dove towards a spot, arms and legs tucked in straight as an arrow after seeing your sprawling form fall past the wormhole, and re-emerged just above you. With a quick flick of the wrist he caught you, throwing out webs wildly towards the neighboring buildings in a desperate bid to slow your fall. The strands held on for as long as they could, slowing your descent before finally snapping from the tension.

“Hold on!” He yelled over the wind as the last web broke. The voice sounded familiar.

You both hurtled through the skeleton of a window before landing and rolling onto the floor of the one of Alchemax lab rooms, the faint smell of chlorine and formaldehyde still clinging to the air.

You pushed yourself onto your knees, prepared to kiss the solid ground beneath you.

“Miss Y/l/n?!” Miles’s jaw dropped, eyes as round as dinner plates.

You perked your head up, momentarily forgetting your near death experience.

“Miles?!”

“Oh crap,” he cleared his throat, dropping his voice an octave, “Um, who’s Miles?”

“What the hell are you doing here? Do your parents know about this? Is this why you’ve been skipping classes? Who let you do this without adult supervision?!” You grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him. He was just a teenager for fuck’s sake!

“Listen, Miss Y/l/n-” Maybe it was because he was so used to unloading his thoughts in front of you that he launched into a half-baked explanation of everything that had happened, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider-” “I met all these Spiderpeople-” “-and he tried to stop me from saving my dad and-”

Your head was spinning.

“Oh Spidermaaannnnn!” The Spot called out in a sing-song voice. “Where are you hiding, you little insect?” “I gotta go, just-” he held his hands out, “just stay here for now. Don’t move!” And just like that he was gone, leaving you more confused than ever before.

I don’t get paid enough for this. You thought, standing alone amidst the rubble.

Miguel tore through the rooms, sprinting like a madman. The reverse Super Collider was finally up and running and it was only a matter of time before the Spot would realize their plan and go berserk. The ground beneath him shook and groaned in protest as the building’s foundations began to crumble into nothing, eaten away by the dark matter that spilled out of the Spot.

“Y/N!” he roared, kicking down a door so hard it blew off its hinges.

You hopped off the bench. It seemed silly, but as a civilian caught in the middle of a multiverse-ending battle there hadn’t been anything for you to do but sit and wait for Miles to come back.

A Spider-Man variant barreled towards you, all hard cut lines of red and blue with blades protruding to his forearms that glinted in the dim light. You hadn’t made a decision about whether or not to run - whether or not it was even worth it to try - before he had you wrapped up in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. The mask fell away like tv static to reveal a head of brown waves that smelled faintly of oranges.

“Dios mío, pensé que te perdí.” He murmured, holding you like his life depended on it.

You stiffened under his touch before awkwardly raising a hand to pat his back. “Umm, hola. ¿Te conozco?”

Miguel froze, feeling the tension in your body. You didn’t… you didn’t know who he was. He’d just… he’d been so terrified that he’d forgotten himself - the situation they were all in.

He took a step back, spine ram-rod straight as he suppressed the urge to hold you again. This version of you looked… different. Different, but the same. You were missing the faint scar on your temple you’d gotten from a car crash at seventeen.

“We need to go.” he said, voice tight as he gestured to his back, “Get on and hold on tight. This building’s about to blow.”

You blinked at the sudden change in his tone, taking a moment to process what he’d just asked you.

“You know Spider-Man?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He said, clenching his jaw. If you didn’t jump on his back in the next ten seconds he was going to chuck you over his shoulder and start running.

The floor beneath you shifted, the building’s dying breaths echoing through the halls.

Hesitantly you climbed onto his back, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as he started sprinting towards the broken window.

“Si me dejas caer, nunca te perdonaré,” you said, lips accidentally brushing against the curve of his ear.

He shivered. “Jamás.”

You were airborne again, feeling Miguel’s body twist and flex beneath you as he pulled you both towards the ceiling like it was as natural as breathing. When you dared to look towards the ground you gasped. The tangled frame of the Super Collider was whirring to life, crackling with energy and exploding with color as Miles spun his webs, keeping the machine together even as it threatened to rip itself apart.

From within the cocoon of webs, dark matter, and multiversal energy, you could make out the Spot’s form warping and pulling apart, bits and pieces disappearing into the frenetic portal that the collider had split open.

Miles caught up to you both, matching Miguel’s rhythm as they flicked and swung from their webs.

“Hey again, Miss Y/l/n.” Flick. “I see you’ve met Miguel.” Flick. “I hope he hasn’t been too mean towards you.” He called out.

You felt Miguel grumble with displeasure.

“He’s the guy that body slammed me into a moving train!” Flick. “But I beat him!”

“Miguel did WHAT?!”

“Right, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Listen kid, I already apologized for that.”

“Yeah right.” Miles had to laugh. The day he heard Miguel say the words “I’m sorry” would be the day the multiverse tore apart, and that day was not today.

You slapped Miguel on the shoulder - it was like hitting stone, “¿Qué coño te pasa? He’s just a teenager!”

“Cariño, can we please discuss this at a later time?” He gritted his teeth. Something was wrong with the collider. It was getting harder and harder to swing you both upwards, like the force of gravity had tripled.

You froze. “What did you just call me?”

Crap.

Miles’s eyes swung back and forth between you two like a pinball machine and the dots finally connected - the alternate universe where Miguel had a family, the way he kept looking at you, the way he’d demanded Miles tell him where you were.

“...Aren’t you his wife?” He asked dumbly.

Miguel’s face went white beneath his mask. Did the temperature go up, or was that just him? His hands felt clammy under his spider-suit.

“I’M HIS WIFE?!”

The collider screeched beneath them and Miguel barely had time to flick his web out towards the remnant of a walkway before -

One.

Two.

Three.

BOOM!

The Spot burst out from the cocoon in a tornado of dark matter, sending debris flying backward towards the sucking mouth of the collider. The building walls buckled, drywall ripping out and sailing downward at the whim of the collider’s gravitational force.

“Spider-Man!” He bellowed, his voice grating and animalistic, “I’M GOING TO DESTROY YOU!”

He might get torn apart and sent to a thousand different dimensions, but if he was going down, he was going to take Spider-Man with him.

“Get her out of here!” Miles yelled over the deafening roar. He pressed his body flat to the wall to keep from falling down into the collider.

“I can’t!” Miguel groaned. His hands had begun to slip down the bright red webbing. You were beginning to lose your grip as well, nails clawing into Miguel’s back.

Your legs gave way first, then your arms.

“Y/N!” Miguel flicked a laser web out, catching you by your waist.

“MISS Y/L/N!”

You gasped, arms and legs splayed out to your sides as you dangled precariously over nothing. Miguel stared down at you, shoulder screaming in pain as he did everything he could to keep you both from getting sucked down. His mask disappeared, letting you see the way his red-brown eyes were blown open. Somewhere from below Miguel heard the Spot scream as he was finally torn to shreds, dark matter traveling back to their respective dimensions, but all he could focus on was you.

“Miguel,” you whispered, too scared to say anything else.

“Miguel?” You called out from the bottom of the stairs.

Gabriella dribbled the football close, just like her father had taught her, before passing it cleanly between your legs.

“¡Túnel!”

“¡Y la multitud se vuelve loca!” Miguel whooped, thundering down the stairs and twirling a screaming Gabriella through the air.

You fixed the collar of his sweater, kissing him hesitantly on the lips and smiling at the brightness in his eyes as he held your daughter.

“I’ll see you at the game later,” You said, smoothing back a strand of your husband’s hair, “I love you.” You murmured, hoping to hear him say it back. It had been so long since he’d said those words to you.

“I’ll see you later.” Miguel promised, kissing you again with a smile so wide you felt his teeth against your lips.

You knew something wasn’t quite right… he knew you knew… but neither of you could find the words to say anything about it.

What’s happened? Why have you changed so much so quickly? Why don’t you remember things about me - about Gabriella - anymore?

You wanted to ask those questions so badly.

But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t answer.

So he left without saying those words… and that was the day he lost you.

He wouldn’t lose you again. He wouldn’t lose you like he’d lost Gabriella.

With a roar he pulled you back to him, wrapping one arm tightly around you. You molded yourself into his side, shutting your eyes just in time for the collider to groan to a halt and then explode.

The noise alone knocked you both back, sound waves rattling your bones and pressing you further against Miguel. Golden light emitted from the collapsing collider, sinking into your skin until it felt like you were burning.

The laser web burned away and Miguel could do nothing more than wrap his body around you as you were both thrown up and through what remained of the roof. You landed on hard pressed glass, pain shooting up your side as you and Miguel tumbled in a flurry of tangled limbs. You rolled to a stop, Miguel bracing his arms so that you wouldn’t get crushed under his bulky frame. His suit glitched, unstable molecules traveling over his skin as it worked to repair any and all damage.

The collider stilled, light dimming as it sighed and breathed its last.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” He brushed your hair back, frantically scanning your body for injuries as you caught your breath.

“I’m ok.” You gasped out, “I’m ok,” You promised, resting your hands against his chest. He felt solid and real beneath your fingertips - the most real thing you’d experienced this entire night.

Miguel sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. You closed yours too, letting yourself enjoy this delicate moment of peace and quiet.

“Woooow, you can really feel the romantic tension between the two of them, can’t you?”

“Shut up, Pavitr.” Gwen hissed.

Miguel’s eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of the audience of Spiderpeople that had congregated on the roof. It was at times like this that he envied the others for their spider-sense.

He rolled lightly onto his feet, pulling you up with him and keeping one arm loosely wrapped around your waist. You found that you didn’t mind the contact at all.

Sirens blared from every street corner, the flashing red, white, and blue lights of firefighters, policemen, and EMS overwhelming to the eye.

Someone was missing.

“Where’s Miles?!” You said, your heart leaping into your throat.

As if on cue he swung up through the hole in the roof, landing with a wince of pain as his right knee buckled under his weight. Patches of his singed suit were still smoking.

“Are you guys ok? I oof-'' Gwen tackled him in a hug, ripping off her mask in the process. You recognized her immediately from Miles’s drawings, but her hair was longer - wilder - than in the pictures.

“Miles,” her breath stuttered, “Oh my god, I-I thought-”

He shushed her, rubbing her back as she helped hold him up on his injured leg.

“Hey it’s ok. It’s all good. I’m alright.”

“Aight’ bruv!” Hobie and Pavitr whooped, clapping Miles’s back.

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as the others circled around Miles. Only Miguel stayed close, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Had you actually just experienced all of that? Had you lost your mind?

“Miss Y/l/n!” Miles noticed you shivering in the cold in your socks and pajamas. He tugged off his ruined mask, exposing the bruise that was beginning to blossom like a purple flower around his nose, “Are you alright?”

You blinked. Were you alright? You weren’t dead or seriously injured as far as you could tell.

It is taking all my willpower not to pass out or vomit right now - was what you were thinking.

“I’ve been better,” you answered, uncrossing your arms. You took a deep, stabilizing breath and squared your shoulders. It was bad enough that you’d spent the majority of the evening flung around like a rag doll in front of your favorite student, but to do it in your pajamas? That was just embarrassing.

“Miles, please tell me you haven’t been running around New York alone with no adult supervision fighting crime this past year.”

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his heck. It was like being reprimanded by his own mother, “I mean… I wasn’t always doing it alone.”

“Yeah! And he had adult supervision - at least for the beginning part of it,” you turned towards the sandy-haired Spider-Man in the pink bathrobe and matching slippers, “I was his mentor and I think I did a pretty good job, wouldn’t you say?” He punched Miles proudly on the arm.

You gawked at him. “Is that… is that a baby strapped to your chest?”

The baby in question babbled with happiness, chubby fingers reaching out for you.

Peter grinned, plucking the little girl out from her carrier and mussing up her wild, red curls. “This is Mayday. She’s a wonder isn’t she?”

He thrust May into your baffled arms where she proceeded to wriggle around like a worm on a hook.

“You-you brought a baby to a superhero fight?”

“Sure did! And she did fantastically. Photo time!” He snapped a picture with you and May, adding as a caption “Mayday’s first time saving the multiverse.” “This is going in the scrapbook for sure.”

“I think… I think I need to go home now.” You said once Mayday was safely crawling around her father’s chest again.

“We should all get out of here.” Miguel said, noting the cop cars beginning to crowd around the perimeter. “Lyla?”

An orange holographic woman popped to life, hovering in the air between you and Miguel. “You called?”

You jolted back. Lyla fluttered her fingers in a wave.

“Is it over?” he asked wearily.

“Hmmmmm,” she flitted around the air, checking holographic screens and typing away on a computer, “Multiverse is holding steady and there’s no sign of the Spot anywhere.”

“And the super collider?”

Lyla made a poof sound, opening her hands and wiggling her fingers, “Destroyed. No anomalies detected.”

“Great.” Miguel, tilting his head back and breathing deeply. Lyla blinked out of existence.

A very pregnant Spiderwoman fiddled around with her watch, opening a portal behind her and her motorbike with only a few quick taps.

Damn, is everyone having kids these days except me? The thought came forth from your muddled brain.

“Let’s get back to HQ everyone. I want full debriefs recorded and uploaded in the next hour.”

A chorus of protests and half-veiled insults rose up.

A tall, spindly Spider-Man, dressed like a 1920s silent film detective, tipped his hat towards you before calmly adjusting the lapels of his grey coat and stepping into the portal. He was followed by a petite Asian girl driving a robot, and… a pig? You had to blink at that one.

“I hear you teach art.” Hobie said, swinging his guitar onto his back, “That’s ace. Try this out and let me know what you think, yeah?” He tossed you a haphazardly folded zine. The cover screamed out in newsprint letters: THE DECAY OF SOCIETY IN THE FACE OF COMMERCIALIZED ART-MAKING.

“See you around,” he gave a two-fingered salute and stepped back through the portal.

You immediately felt Miguel’s absence when he brushed past you towards Miles and Gwen. He sized up the two teenagers, grabbed Miles’s wrist, and dropped a watch into his open palm.

“Gwen will teach you how to use it. Don’t make any dumb decisions.”

“Me?” Miles snorted, “Pfffft. Never.”

Miguel hesitated before saying, “I’ll see you around… Spider-Man.”

He was just about to step through the portal himself when you called out his name, voice cracking. He closed his eyes, back tense.

He didn’t want to turn around. He wanted you to ignore him and let him leave without saying goodbye because… because if he saw you again that just might ruin him. Here was another version of you - another family - that would never be his.

But when you called his name again - this time with more force - he couldn’t deny you. He turned around and stared into your eyes - the eyes of his wife… the eyes of a stranger.

He never had the chance to live a full life with that other version of you. He hadn’t been the one to take you out on the first date, he hadn’t been the one to kiss you at the altar, he hadn’t been there when Gabriella was born. No. All those memories and experiences belonged to someone else, some other version of him that he could never be. But when he looked at you he imagined for one brief moment what it would be like to try it all over again, to be a real husband to you… to be there for you from the start.

“Thank you,” you said, “For saving my life.”

His lips tightened into a thin, almost angry line, but whether he was angry at you or himself you couldn’t tell. He gave a curt nod, stepped into his dimension, and let the portal close in front of you.

When Gwen and Miles dropped you off at your apartment, the first words out of his mouth were, “Please don’t tell my mom and dad.”

His phone weighed like a stone in his pocket, filled to the brim with frantic text messages and missed phone calls from Rio and Jefferson.

“Miles… this isn’t-this isn’t safe for you to do. I mean you’re just a teenager.”

“I’m not just a teenager.”

“Do you even have a driver’s license yet?” Miles shut his mouth, thinking over his next words carefully.

“Miss Y/l/n, this world needs Spider-Man. You know it needs Spider-Man, And I’m this universe’s Spider-Man. Me. I can’t just let that go.”

You muttered under your breath. Were you really going to encourage a fifteen year old’s vigilantism? You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, hating that he was right. The answer was yes - you really were going to encourage your student to be a superhero.

“I won’t say anything to Rio or Jefferson or anyone else. Your secret is safe with me, Miles. I swear it.”

His shoulders drooped in relief. Without warning Miles wrapped his wiry arms around you in a tight hug, “Thank you so much. You’re the best.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t even done anything yet. In fact I should be thanking you for protecting the multiverse tonight.” You said, a faint smile growing on your lips despite your best efforts. You hugged him back. “If you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m going to guess even superheroes need a little help every now and then.”

“That would be the understatement of the century.” Gwen said, balancing on the balcony railing with all the grace and poise of a ballerina.

“We should really get going, Miles. It was nice meeting you, Miss Y/l/n.” You nearly had a heart attack when Gwen fell backwards without hesitation, catching herself in a swing from an old lamppost.

“See you around, Miss Y/l/n,” Miles said and dove after her, adding a flourish in the form of a front flip.

“See you around, Spider-Man.” You said softly, finally escaping into your apartment and sliding the balcony door shut.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

>>>

Sneak peek at Chapter Three (because I want you all to know what I have planned, but I've made this chapter too long):

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

Author's note: I hope you guys are enjoying where the story is heading! To those of you who reached out and offered to help with the Spanish - thank you so much! I've been a little overwhelmed by the responses on Tumblr and haven't been good about keeping track of things, but I have a friend who will be helping me out moving forward. I'll be updating the masterlist once the next chapter is scheduled. In the meantime, have a great weekend everyone :)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter parker #peter b parker #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you

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angsthology · 6 months

Text

“im just excited, is all” — or an alt title: roo vs. the australian allegations

who is roo, really? why is roo?

a/n a short one cause if im being honest theres just one tiny explanation and... yeah

or, yknow, alt alt title: daniel’s detective era

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

“WOOOO!! I’M NEVER GONNA DIE!” she yelled into the radio, at this point not even shocking her engineer anymore.

“sure, kid.” he chuckled. “congratulations, again, i’ll see you out.”

as soon as she parked her car, the girl quickly jumped out of her seat and stand on the nose of her car, jumping repeatedly with both her feet going up and down excitedly. it ends with a last hard jump off the car and her hands up in the air, yelling on the top of her lungs.

when suddenly — to everyone’s dismay — she started shuffling. well, attempted, shuffling.

daniel, who had the pleasure of sharing the podium with her and was there to witness it first hand, could not help but unknowingly let his hand fly to his mouth to muffle his laughter. man, he just took off his balaclava, he thought.

then, just his luck, the girl stopped mid-shuffle and looked towards his way and waved at him excitedly before running towards the australian and attacking him in a bear-hug.

of course, the man expected the hug, what he didn’t expect was how strong it was going to be.

he let out a muffled “oof” as soon as she collided with him. daniel did not think he has ever gotten a hug this tight. let alone receiving it from a girl almost half his size.

“congratulations!” she could not get bored of hearing that. making her hug him tighter, “okay, oh, lord, i can’t breathe. please.”

“oh—hehe, sorry.” she immediately let go of the man and ran off—well, more hopped off—to get herself weighed.

the older man could not help but chuckle watching her hop away.

again, really?

the girl could never not get bored of all the demeaning questions that seemed to only be targeted towards her.

unfortunately for them, she was not having it that day.

so here she was, berating a man who was like generations behind her — and everyone else — with the rest of the grid listening, watching in amusement.

they always enjoy watching her absolutely destroying male fossils that walked the paddock. it was free entertainment.

her manager didn’t even stop her anymore — well, he did, usually when he knows she’ll say something completely unhinged and not for viewers ears — he just watches with a proud smile like the rest of the drivers until she eventually runs out of breath, all the while also stealing it from the opposite person.

and now it’s about five minutes later and the room was silent, really soaking in her words.

as usual, daniel was the one to break the silence — his tone doing its best to relief the tension that clouded the room.

“remind me not to piss you off.”

sebastian found his voice when he looked towards daniel, “i really admire her agression.”

“i try.”

the mclaren driver was minding his own business when suddenly he felt someone plop down on the seat next to him.

said person didn’t say anything, they just stared at him blankly for a good few seconds. in return, daniel had the expression equivalent of a question mark.

until eventually he felt a little creeped out, “what do you want?”

her response was… weirder.

“what do you want?”

“…what?”

suddenly, out of nowhere, the twenty-two-year-old pulls out a fanny pack from the side. and when she opened it, they were both met with all kinds of candy.

daniel raised his eyebrows at the girl.

“this stays between us.”

it did, but also no, she had previously already approached alex, mick, lando, and yuki, doing the exact same thing.

“…okay?” he then removed the confused expression on his face to one of curiosity of what’s inside the pack, “you got any haribo?”

“everyone, everyone, everyone!”

the girl hopped over to the group of men, dragging a slightly smaller one with her.

“yes, yes, yes!” replied george.

she the shoved the brunette girl in her arms to the front, holding her by both her forearms from the back.

“i want you all to meet daisy-mae!”

a strings of ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s along with ‘nice to meet you’s were exchanged.

the young driver then noticed a certain australian missing.

“hey where’s dan— DANNY!” she jumped when she saw said man approaching. as usual, she excitedly hopped her way over to him.

he chuckled, “hey, roo.”

at that, she stopped mid-way and looked at him confused, “who?”

“you.”

“huh.”

“you’re like a ‘lil kangaroo, y’know?”

still confused, she was brought out of a daze when she heard loud sounds of agreement from behind her.

“that’s what she is!”

“aw, that’s cute, our little kangaroo…”

“LITTLE?!”

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoisons @vellicora

hope this didnt disappoint </3

#tine’s roo vs the world #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo

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guacamoleroll · 4 months

Text

𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍? 「𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦」 ༉‧

content. f!reader. (name) has an ex-boyfriend (not dazai), established relationship, delusional men, swearing, derogatory names (slut, whore), mentions of infidelity, fighting (one-sided), protective behavior. not proofread. 1.2k+ words.

author's note. for some reason, i have a bunch of these "ex-boyfriend" related fics in my drafts, so expect more of these!

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. you certainly didn't expect to reunite with your ex-boyfriend on a random trip to a coffee shop. but even with your terrible luck, it seems the universe is on your side as someone steps into the fray.

"(Name)?"

You resisted the innate desire to furl out a groan as the shrill noise of a familiar voice called out to you from across a coffee shop. It had been a simple day, at least as far as the Armed Detective Agency was concerned—no terrorist attacks or massive genocide plots, only unexceptional cases that were resolved within seconds. With this once-in-a-lifetime chance to take a reprieve, everyone decided some delicious caffeinated drinks were a necessity for the laborious task of paperwork. And wouldn't you know it, you had both literally and figuratively drawn the short end of the stick—how were you supposed to know your ex-boyfriend was gonna be at this coffee shop the one time you had to stray from Cafe Uzumaki due to damages?

You decided it would be best to ignore the voice, hoping that it was simply a coincidental stranger calling out to someone else with your name and that you would be left alone, but you knew it couldn't be when a firm hand tugged on your shoulder.

"Woah!" he enthused with a beaming smile, capturing you into a hug without allowing a moment for you to react. You shoved him, inching away from him with an annoyed grimace.

"Don't touch me, Takahiro."

His expression shifted, mouth furled into a tight-lipped smile as his gaze sharpened. "No need to be so harsh, babe. I'm just happy to see you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not happy to see you," you grumbled, turning away as the line moved up. However, you were immediately drawn back away by a bruising grip on your arm, tugging you away from the line. Your eyes darted towards the other customers, who ignored the entire predicament as they filled the now vacant space. He dragged you through the side door that led to an empty alleyway.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" you yelled, rubbing your aching wrists after managing to push him away.

He only frowned as if unaware of his aggressive behavior. "I only wanted to talk outside, honey."

You snarled at him, practically chest-to-chest, as your anger spiraled. "First of all, asshole, I am not your honey. I'm not your baby. Get that through your thick fuckin' skull," you sneered, knocking the edge of your knuckle against his forehead. "And second, what in your right mind thinks it's okay to grab me? Ever! Who in the hell do you think you are!"

And he stood there as if your beratement was the most insane thing he had ever heard. "I'm your boyfriend."

Your jaw couldn't have dropped any further to the ground, mouth agape from the sheer potency of audacity and stupidity radiating from the man in front of you. "You're joking. You can't be that fuckin' delusional."

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to the punch with a sharp laugh. "You cheated on me. Four years ago. I haven't been your so-called 'girlfriend' for four years!"

"Baby," he braced his hand against your shoulder once more. "Stop it. You're making a scene."

You tried desperately to muffle your laughter with your hand, but it was useless as you practically howled, doubling over against the wall. "Trust me, Takahiro." You wiped the tears from your eyes, though they just kept coming. "You are not my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend, and he's certainly not anything like you."

Your moment of humor was interrupted by a hand slammed on the wall next to your head, the eyes of an enraged man-child scanning over your face. "You're cheating on me!"

You blinked, staring at him dumbly. "Huh."

His nostrils flared, teeth gritted as outrage bubbled up through his throat. "You fuckin' whore—!"

"Excuse me."

Both of you turned to look at this new entry into your little predicament—one confused, the other bewildered. A familiar face, framed with somewhat matted but wavy brown locks and capped off with a cheeky smile, appeared before you. You couldn't help but find the entire scene incredibly awkward—this was definitely a way to be found. However, he wasn't focused on you; his gaze was entirely focused on a perplexed Takahiro, the brunette's face shifting from unreadable to overly cheerful.

"I'm afraid you have something of mine!" Dazai exclaimed with an overly mushy voice.

Takahiro sputtered. "Y-Yours—?" He managed to cut himself off, glancing between the two of you as the gears in his mind turned. His brows shot up with a realization, directly the peak of his rage toward Dazai, grabbing him by the lapels of his trenchcoat. "So you're the bastard who this little slut—!"

He was cut off—cut off by a punch to his cut. He crumpled, groaning in agony as his legs quaked underneath him, only to receive a swift kick to the ribs, forcing him to topple over onto the ground like a bowling pin, saliva oozing out of his mouth as he grabbed at his chest.

Dazai crouched down, tilting away enough to hide his face from your view as his voice lowered to a whisper. "I'm feeling generous today, so I'll let you off with a warning." His voice lost its dramatic, pitched tone, cracking his knuckles with a look that would make the most hardened soldier weep. "Lay a hand on her again, and you won't have hands left to stroke your cock with at night. Okay, pal?"

He patted the quivering man's hair, watching him for a moment with a sinister smile curled up on his lips before that expression completely vanished as he threw himself towards you. "I know she's pretty!" he cried. "But don't touch the merchandise."

You struck Dazai with an odd look as he escorted you out of the alleyway, looking all too happy with himself. "What're you doing here?"

He grinned. "I came to help you with the drinks!"

"You just wanted to skip work, didn't you?"

He gasped, hand against his chest as if he were struck. "How could you say such a—!"

Before he could continue with his dramatic charade, you sighed with a surrendering smile, grabbing his face to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

His expression melted, like a lovesick dope, as he leaned into your lips. You were about to pull away, but he refused to let you as he brought you into a tight embrace, dashing kisses across your face.

"Osamu!" you giggled, weakly pushing against him in a vain attempt to wiggle out of his grasp.

He relished in those sweet sounds, bouncing like a dog with his tail wagging as he swayed you both side-to-side, not caring about the pedestrians looking at you with confused and concerned expressions.

"I think we should go on a date! Maybe to that new restaurant down the street. They have a special crab dish—!"

"You're not getting out of work, Dazai."

He pouted. "But honey bun! Can't you reward your knight-in-shining armor with a feast?"

You scoffed, intertwining his hands with your own as you hid your equally lovesick expression. "Later, Osamu."

He hummed, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving a longing kiss against your knuckles. His eyes settled around the sore spot of your wrist, expression contorting into something darker as his thumb dashed across the bruised spot before it shifted back into a smile.

"I guess I can settle for that, love."

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @sillyspookycat @aureatchi

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#f!reader #꒰ა ⎼ [dazai]#osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

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slayfics · 3 months

Text

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter eighteen: Katsuki finally opens up to you.

Chapter links

You were lying in your dorm room trying to focus on studying the lessons you went over today in class. With the events of the last few days, you found it hard to absorb any new information.

For the last several days ever since the provisional licensing exam Katsuki had been ignoring and avoiding you. You knew he was upset about failing but you couldn't shake the feeling that something else was also going on.

In the common room and in classes he never met your gaze and when you texted him everything was left on seen. As angry as you were, you were also concerned about him.

Then last night things seemed to escalate. He was caught breaking curfew apparently fighting with Izuku. You knew he never liked his so-called childhood friend but what the fuck?

"Ugh!" You threw your book and laid down on your bed. It appeared to be no use to study. You couldn't decipher if you were more pissed or worried. You had even messaged him after the fight to try and talk to him, but again nothing.

You opened your phone to see the last message you sent to Katsuki.

I know you're hurting please talk to me.

Seen.

Whatever- if that's how things are now then so be it. It was then you heard a knock come from the patio of your dorm.

You got up and slid open the curtain to see Katsuki standing on your porch. All at once your body decided you were more angry than upset and you closed the curtain on him.

You turned your back to your patio, feeling rage ignite inside of you. Then came the sound of popping explosions from your patio.

"UGH!" You exclaimed, opening your patio door knowing Katsuki wasn't going to stop until you let him in. You angrily pulled him inside and shut the patio door.

"Hi," he spoke, voice unusually low for him.

"Fucking hi? You ignored me for three days and that's it? Hi?!" You marveled, feeling your anger heighten.

Katsuki didn't respond but sat down on your bed elbows resting on his knees.

You sat in your chair across from him. The room was uncomfortably silent for an amount of time.

Katsuki figured you might be irritated at his lack of interaction with you the last few days, but he had no idea you'd be so pissed. Your last message to him seemed as though you felt sympathetic for him.

You let out an irritated sigh, "I get it. You've been going through a lot of shit recently but so is everyone Bakugo. It's unfair for you to expect me to just be here when you want me and ignore me when you don't. I'm not just some punching bag you know." You spat out.

Punching bag.

Katsuki's memory instantly flashed to Izuku's words when he yelled that he wasn't going to be Katsuki's punching bag anymore.

Your anger kept you from seeing how his shoulders dropped and his usually confident demeanor was lacking. His eyes trailed the floor as he processed your words. He deserved them and he knew it, but he finally came to you in the hope of some comfort. Instead, he was getting more berated. More than he had already berated himself.

He knew it was wrong to ignore you but how could he have told you the truth? That he realized something was going on with Izuku's quirk. All of that was tied to his guilt about what happened to All Might. And he couldn't unravel it on his own. Now he knew the truth and finally figured out what he could tell you, he came to you for comfort but found himself being chewed out.

All Might himself told him it wasn't his fault, but Katsuki knew better. The fact was if he hadn't been kidnapped the events would have been different.

"Hello? Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or did you just fucking come here to ignore me in my own room?" You spat again, even angrier than the last time.

"It's my fault-" he said, voice collapsing on itself as his chest began to heave.

"...What?" You asked, bewildered. Was Katsuki really about to cry?

"All Might- It's my fault- if I was never captured- he wouldn't have lost his power," he said, sobs coming freely from him now.

Your heart instantly broke in two, and you wanted to take back all your harsh words. You had no idea this was what Katsuki had been dealing with all along. You thought he was just pissed about his provisional licenses.

You moved from your chair grabbing Katsuki into an embrace. He rested his head on your chest, and you intertwined your fingers in his hair.

"That's not true-"

"Yes, it is!" He yelled, sobbing. "You all know it! I know you all look down on me because of it!"

You ran your hand in a soothing motion up and down his shoulder while your other hand caressed his hair. You stayed silent and fought the urge to argue in order to allow him to vent all of the thoughts that had been haunting him.

"I'm so fucking weak what the fuck!? How could I have let that happen to the person I've looked up to the most. All my life I've wanted to be like him, but I'm the one that ended up destroying him?? What the fuck am I supposed to do now- how do I-" Katsuki's sobs broke off, and his breathing became more erratic as he struggled to take in air.

You held him tighter to your chest sitting in his pain with him as tears of your own began to fall.

"Bakugo- you've been dealing with this on your own for so long. I'm sorry. You have to know you put too much pressure on yourself. No one ever would have expected you to hold off the whole league of villains on your own. You know that right? And- no one in our class looks down on you. Can't you see how envious they are of your drive and determination?" You spoke softly.

Katsuki didn't speak a word but hid his face in your chest as he continued to sob and listen to your words. He knew you'd know what to say and how to say it.

"Yes- you're right because you got kidnapped that fight happened with All Might. But I know you're not stupid. All Might would have fought that villain at some point regardless of the events. It just happened to be then. It isn't solely your fault and I know for a fact, not a soul thinks that." You continued.

Katsuki's tears slowly started to subside, and your gentle tugging at his hair further soothed him.

"Ask for what you're going to do- you're going to continue to feel what you need to feel to get over it. Then move past it and get stronger like you always do. Because no one looks down on you, it's the opposite, we look up to you. I look up to you. You're a fucking asshole sure, but you're strong and you never give up, and that drive pushes us all to do better. You're going to be an amazing pro hero and we're all excited to see it." You squeezed Katsuki one more before letting him go. "Thank you, for letting me in," you whispered softly.

You took a deep breath and lay on the bed feeling exhausted from the heightened emotions. You were shocked when Katsuki crawled up to lay on your chest. Silent tears were still escaping him now and then. You wrapped your arms around him, and he hid his face again.

"This feeling is going to pass, I promise," you said.

Katsuki wished he could have told you the whole truth. How that worthless fuck ended up with his idol's power. He knew if anyone could make that seem less of a tragedy you could. However, he stayed true to his word to keep it a secret and found comfort in confiding the guilt he had been carrying all this time.

You quickly felt his weight increase as Katsuki fell into a slumber. His chest now rose and fell evenly, all sobs subsiding. He must have been pretty exhausted to fall asleep this quick you realized. You wondered how many nights he had stayed up tormenting himself.

You ran your fingers through his hair, "You can always talk to me Katsuki," You whispered as you felt your own eyes get heavy.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb @nagicats @lees-chaotic-brain

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 6 days

Text

For context:

A few days ago, @meagancandraw (Night-Waker) and I did a lil' "what-if" scenario in a private server of what would happen if Moon punched Sun after a hallucination-driven breakdown and then ran off and was visited by someone who gave him the clarity he needed.

The following is what transpired:

NIGHT: He's starting to hallucinate, goes to hit one, and it ends up being Sun.

Sun: Moon-! Moon: DON'T TOUCH ME! (THWACK)

And that's when he snaps out of it-

ME: The sound echoes, bouncing off the walls and ringing in Moon's audio receptors. There's a frightening sting that spreads across the back of his hand. The swirling black and red of his vision vanishes practically in an instant as he stares mortified at Sun, who cups his cheek with an equally mortified look. What did he…? No…no no no what had he done-- ?: M-Moon…?!

NIGHT: Moon can only look at Sun, at the hand holding his cheek. It looks dented, and there's specks of dark blue visible between his fingers. Moon slowly looks down at his own hand, and sees where small streaks of paint have been violently scrapped off, exposing the grey underneath. He feels sick. Moon: I- ?: Sun! Lunar runs into the room (Oh God how long had he been standing there how much had he seen), asking Sun if he's okay. The sound is muffled to Moon, however, as he continues to stare at his hand. There's more talking - or is it yelling? - but he can't tell from who. All he hears is static. Horror blooms in his chest and spreads through his circuits

ME: Earth suddenly rushes in as well, looking between the two. She asks what happened but doesn't get an answer from either, so she asks Lunar, who fills her in. Her eyes widen and she looks to Moon- God that look…The way she looked at him--horrified, scared, angry--he couldn't bear it.

Before anyone can think to stop him, he turns and activates a random portal, and flees into it.

NIGHT: Moon [begins] spiraling and thinking his whole family must hate him. They should. Not only did he fail to protect Solar, now he's hurt Sun in front of them. He's a horrible brother. They don't deserve as terrible as him. Is hurting his family all he's good for?

ME: (imagine while in Beta 10 he starts hallucinating.)

"What, gonna start drowning in your own pity party again?"

He sees hallucinations of his family, one by one. Starting with Earth. Then Lunar. Then even Eclipse. Then Sun.

Then Old Moon.

All of them berating and sharp, pushing the dagger in deeper. "You promised you would be better." "Why weren't you honest with how you felt?" "You're a monster." "You're pathetic."

"You did the one thing I told you not to do." In the midst of the anguish as the people he loves drive home every wound, he hears a voice he doesn't expect and looks-

to see Solar.

Still a hallucination, but…he is different. He's not shouting at Moon for his failures, he's not calling him horrible things.

NIGHT: "Solar" asking Moon what he's doing here instead of being with his family Moon (crying): I don't deserve to be with them

ME: Solar: What makes you think that?

NIGHT: Moon: Because all I'm good for is hurting them! I hit Sun! I let you die! I can't protect anyone! I'm just as bad as the old me! ME: Solar: Moon. If that's all you ever see in yourself, then that is all you will ever be.

NIGHT: Moon: It's all I am! The old me killed himself because he thought that I would be better, but he was wrong! ME: Solar: Was he? NIGHT: Moon: Yes! Name one good thing I've done that didn't end up backfiring or making things worse for everyone!

ME: Solar: hm. Well…from what I heard about the guy, he didn't have a shred of empathy. So you got him beat on that front. NIGHT: Moon: Yeah… a lot of good that's done for me

ME: Solar: Yeah it has. 'Cept I don't think you actually see what good it's done. NIGHT: Moon: Like what? ME: Solar: well your brother, for one. Would you say you've grown closer since you re-awoke? NIGHT: Moon: I… guess? But I still hit him, and I promised myself that this version of me would never do that

ME: Solar: and you think he's upset with you?

NIGHT: Moon: Of course he is! Why wouldn't he be?!

ME: Solar: well, you kinda just ran before you could see what he'd say.

NIGHT: Moon: … Moon: That's because I'm a coward

ME: Solar: hm…didn't they say he was a coward, too?

NIGHT: Moon: Who?

ME: Solar: the old you. He ran from his problems too, didn't he?

NIGHT: Moon: That's part of why he made me. He had a lot of problems and regrets he couldn't face… If you're here to tell me that I'm doing the same thing right now, trust me, I'm well aware. I guess it's just another thing I have in common with the old me

ME: Solar: I don't think I'm here to tell you what you've already heard.

NIGHT: Moon: Then what are you here for?

ME: Solar: well? You don't want to be like him, right? And if he ran from his problems, what do you think you should do?

NIGHT: Moon: Yeah, I know… I just… (Sighs) I dunno… what if what happened is just the start? What if Sun and the others are wrong about me, and I just keep getting worse?

ME: Solar: everyone has highs and lows, Moon. And the lows can really suck sometimes. That's just how life is. But that's what family is for, yeah? To help pick you back up when you're down?

NIGHT: Moon: …You're right. Heh, even when you're dead you're right … (Tears up) God, I miss you

ME: Solar: (smiles) failing and making mistakes doesn't make you a bad person, Moon. It's how you respond that determines how things go.

NIGHT: Moon: I should probably get out of here, huh?

ME: Solar: they're probably out lookin' for ya right now

NIGHT: Moon: Yeah. I should- Sun: (From the entrance) Moon…? Are you here? Moon: Sun? (Looks over at Solar to see that he's vanished)

ME: Sun: (approaches, finds him staring at the mirror) …figured you'd come here

NIGHT: Moon: Actually, I set the portal to random … …Are you okay?

ME: Sun: (thinks for a moment). Not happy about being punched again, but…I'm fine. And…m-more worried about you, honestly.

NIGHT: Moon: I'm… better than I was earlier… Sun, I am so so sorry for hitting you. I don't think there are any words that can begin to tell you how sorry I am

ME: Sun: I know you're sorry. I do. But…Moon, this-- (sighs) This can't keep happening.

NIGHT: Moon: I know...

ME: Sun: Do you?

NIGHT: Moon: … Moon: The old me gave up his life so I could be the better version of him. I already told you what he told me: To protect our family no matter what. That's been my entire purpose since the moment I woke up, but lately it feels like no matter what I do, it's not enough. That I'm not enough. I keep thinking that if I was smarter like him, then Solar would still be alive, or if I did start killing anyone who was a threat - sure, it wouldn't be right, but you'd all at least be safe

…I'm terrified of becoming like the old Moon, Sun. That's the last thing I want, but KC's already dead, and if I can't keep our family safe, then that officially means the old Moon died for nothing! I know that's not an excuse, but I- I can't lose anyone else, Sun!

ME: Sun: we don't want to lose YOU, Moon! Why should protecting our family be only your responsibility?! Family protects each other, it's not supposed to be one person's burden! … The old Moon, he…I get he did what he did to keep me and everyone safe, but…it still hurt people. It still hurt me.

NIGHT: Moon: I know, and I'm sorry. … You're the most important person in my life, Sun. I love Lunar and Earth, but you're the one who keeps me going. It's your light and your strength that inspires me, and I want to protect that at all costs. I want to make sure nothing ever happens to you or the others, even if it means taking on that burden all by myself. I know it's not fair to you, or Lunar and Earth, but I… I don't think I know how to do it any other way. …But I'd like to learn

ME: Sun: (listens in silence, then after a moment he sighs) Moon. I know you mean well. But—I am not a child. I am not some delicate thing that needs protecting. I can handle myself. Earth can handle herself, we know that. Lunar…more or less. (sighs) But the fact is, our lives are not perfect. Things will happen whether we want them to or not. That’s just how life is. And if you’re so busy going around trying to protect US…then who is going to protect you?

NIGHT: Moon: (Ponders the question in silence) I've… never really considered that, to be honest. I didn't care what happened to me as long as you guys were okay. I can… see why that's a problem, now that I say it out loud… (Sighs) I really screwed up…

ME: Sun: yeah. You did. (he steps and engulfs Moon into a tight hug) but who hasn’t screwed up? I’ve made mistakes. Lunar, too. I’m sure even Earth has. But at the end of the day…we’re still a family, aren’t we? (he squeezes him) You’re a real idiot sometimes, Moon. But you’re still my brother, and you always will be.

NIGHT: Moon: (He hugs him back with his first genuine smile in a long time) Heh, thanks, Sun. I love you, brother

Unbeknownst to any of them, "Solar" is watching them as they leave the bunker. He smiles at the group before fading away…

--The end--

#sams #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #tsams sun #sams sun #tsams moon #sams moon #sams solar #tsams solar #what-if scenario #roleplay sorta #something done for fun #no shipping implied #this is not solarmoon #fnaf sun #fnaf moon

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