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lila-went-missing · 3 months

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Saw you want to write Clarisse x Reader and I NEED more clarisee x reader fics SO!

Can you a Clarisse x reader of when Percy broke her spear and just like readers reaction to the her scream and just very angsty but very fully at the same time! Pls and thank u!

I swear on my life reverse hurt/comfort is one of my favorite things to write on this planet. Also, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that Dior said she literally BLEW OUT HER VOICE when she did that scream?!?! She never fails to amaze me.

This got a bit sadder than intended but it's not too bad. Also, sorry this took so long, I had a math test, two essays, and a debate, on top of personal shit. But I FINALLY got it finished.

My Love is Waiting For You to Come Home

Warnings: Slight violence, mild angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, small amounts of blood, mentions of wounds, lmk if I left anything out.

Pair: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Apollo!Reader

For the first time in what felt like forever, capture the flag was going great. It had been a long time since the red team had won, but you were actually doing really well. You were up in a tree close to the flag, shooting anyone who got too close with your arrows. They weren't sharp, but they had enough of a point to hurt.

Clarisse was hunting in the woods below you. You'd occasionally catch sight of her from the place you were perched on your branch. She always looked amazing like this. Hair pulled back, armor on, spear in hand. She was in her element, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't extremely attractive. The way she looked so tough, her lucky red bandanna tied around her bicep.

Anyone else would say she looked terrifying. But to you, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever laid eyes on. You were the only one who got that side of her.

It wasn't long before she disappeared again, hunting down anyone who dared to get close to the flag or your tree. She had mentioned something before the game. Something about revenge on the new kid. She didn't go into detail about said revenge, but you new it wouldn't end well for someone.

You didn't move from your tree, assuming her and her siblings had everything handled. And they did, for a while at least. You had shot down another four people by the time you heard your girlfriend scream in a way that genuinely terrified you.

Jumping down from the tree, you raced to the sound as the conch horn blue. You made it in time to see her storm off as the blue team carried the flag over. Just before she made it out of sight, you saw the spear in her hand. Or rather, what was left of it.

Oh gods. You thought.

You tipped your head back, letting out a breath before turning in the direction she went. You found her in the arena, tearing dummy after dummy into shreds. You let her go at it for a while, watching from the doorway.

Eventually, you slowly walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Clar.." You whisper.

She jumps, turning quickly, ready to knock you into the ground before relaxing. All of the tension disappears from her face, her bottom lip trembling. You reach forward, taking the sword from her hand and tossing it into the rack haphazardly.

"I- fuck.." She drops her head forward, breathing hard.

"Come on.. it'll be okay." You lead her towards your cabin, knowing all of your siblings would be in the infirmary tending to peoples wounds. You can see cuts and bruises on her arms, giving you a feeling that her back will be even worse. You make sure to grab the pieces of her spear on your way out.

On the way to your cabin, her eyes don't leave the ground. Your hand stays on her back the the whole walk, not leaving even as you open the door for her.

She sits on your bed, putting her head in her hands. The broken weapon lays on the foot of your bed as you sit next to her. Her breath shakes with her body.

"Let me clean you up, okay?" She nods, at your words.

"Okay.." Her voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before. You lean forward and pull her shirt over her head, confirming your suspicions about her back. An angry red covers almost the entirety of her tan skin, small amounts of blood leaking from a few spots.

You hover a hand over the scrapes and cuts, a warm glow emanating from your palm. Her wounds slowly heal as her muscles relax. Your heart breaks for her every time you hear her wince or feel her breath hitch. Your free hand reaches forward, grasping hers. A few small scars form over the area, but nothing that won't fade.

You lean your chin on her shoulder when you finish, wrapping your arm around her front. Her other hand reaches up to hold your wrist.

"I love you.." You whisper into her ear.

She hesitates, not speaking for a few moments. When she does her voice is as shaky as her body.

"That was the only thing- the only proof he-" She can't finish either sentence. You can feel her holding her breath as if she's trying not to cry.

"I know, my love. I know." Your lips press into her shoulder. "I'm gonna talk to some Hephaestus kids, I think there's a couple of Hecate kids in the Hermes cabin. I'll do everything I can to fix it."

Her whole body shudders. She's never had the best relationship with her dad. He'd always said that she should've been a son. That spear was the only acknowledgement she'd ever gotten from him. And now it was broken.

A few tears slip down her cheek that you pretend not to see.

"It'll be okay, Clar'." Your arms tighten around her as her head leans into you.

"Thank you." She mutters. If it wasn't for your close proximity you probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

"You deserve someone to care about you.. I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to be that person."

"I love you. So much." Her voices is so soft, so gentle.

"I love you more." You're not sure how long you sit like that, but it's long enough for your legs to go numb. You can bring yourself to care as she looks so comfortable. She's always had to fight for her dad's love. It gets tiring after you do everything you can to get no recognition. It was nice to know she had someone. If she didn't have anyone else, she would have you.

Eventually you moved positions to her laying on your chest. Your hand rubs up and down her back as her wrap around your waist. She traces patterns across your skin with her finger tips. It's not long before you're both sound asleep in each other's arms. She would never have to fight for your love, it was just there, ready for her when she came home.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #clarisse la rue x reader #x reader #percy series #percy jackson disney+#clarisse pjo #hurt/comfort #light angst #fluff #one shot #clarisse x reader #clarisse is bae

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allfearstofallto · 3 months

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Sweetheart <3

Yandere! Scaramouche x fem! Reader

Synopsis: You have a strange lover with no name, who you dub sweetheart

Word count: 2.7k

TW: Yandere, obsession, manipulation, stalking

Chimes. That's how you knew he was coming, a noise that could only be coming from him. What sounded like wind chimes in the air would make your ears perk up. The large, lavish hat that he wore to protect him from the sun and the rain, had little bells on them that jingled and sang when he walked.

“A song just for you,” he once said while placing the hat on your head and you giggled with shy, girlish delight. The weight of it was heavier than you'd expected, but it smelled of him. A scent you could bask in.

You called him sweetheart. A name that he rolled his eyes and scoffed at the first time you said it. You told him time and time again that you didn't know his name, nor did he give you something to call him, so you came up with a placeholder, until he decided to open up to you. Sweetheart. You referred to him as sweetheart.

Whether or not he hated the name was debatable. He told you many times that a pet name as soft as that didn't suit someone like him, but he never explained what that meant. He never told you what someone like him was, he never told you anything about himself, not his name, not where he was from, and not even what he did for work. What little he told you about himself, was barely enough to decipher him.

But what you could see was that he was beautiful. He insisted that he hated you incessant compliments, but you could see a meek smile form on his lips after all of your flattering words. Hair that looked like the night sky and skin paler than sand itself. You often compared him to finely crafted statues or even works of art and he would call that nonsense. But you could see the way your words made him glance at himself in the mirror.

He had a tendency of just showing up at your door. You would hear that familiar song of wind chimes and smell citrus in the air and he'd be there. You'd open the door and see him standing there with his arms crossed and his usual frown on his face, an expression that you didn't think suited his soft, delicate features.

“Sweetheart!” You called out to him. His cheeks already flushed from your brazen display of affection and all he did was turn his nose up at you, his way of hiding flustered you were making him.

You wrapped your arms around him, taking in his sweet scent, and begrudgingly, he did the same, “You said you'd write to me,” your voice was a bit sadder now with your face buried in his chest.

His travels took him far, yes, but never once did he send you a letter and he never told you where you could send one to. When he left, it was like he was vanishing into thin air, like a creation of your own mind and when he came back, it was without warning.

“I said I'd try,” he pulled away from the hug and walked into your home like he owned the place, eyeing the small space over as he did every time he visited. It was almost like he was looking for something, or someone, but he knew you lived alone.

You shut and locked the door, trying not to seem disappointed by the way he was acting. At times you questioned if he really liked you. The way he responded towards you was nothing short of disinterest. He turned away from you kisses and stood stiffly in your hugs. Affection from him was a rare gem, but one you cherished.

“I wasn't aware that you liked flowers,” he had stepped into your living room and was staring at a vase filled with a buslte of silk flowers that were sitting near the window. He was rubbing the petals between his fingertips, while waiting for your answer, a disgusted look on his face.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, “Oh!” You smiled as the change in conversation piqued your interest, very seldom did he mention the decor of your home, “Those were given to me!”

“Given?” He repeated beneath his breath while still rubbing the flower petals, “by whom?”

His face was turned away from you, but you could hear it in his voice. He was angry. The way he was muttering his words, how his shoulders stayed tense, he shook his head a little, even clicked his tongue, all for sure signs that he wasn't happy with what you'd said.

“By…by no one, sweetheart,” you said with a forced, playful chuckle.

He picked the vase up and held it to the light, humming in distaste, “Is that so?”

You nodded quickly.

“If no one gave them to you, we can just get rid of them right?” He didn't wait for your response, just waltzed across the room with ease and dropped the entire vase in the trash, “If you want flowers, I'll bring you some when I come back again.”

When he comes back. You hated when he said those words. They make your heart sink to your stomach. When he came back? Who knew when that would be and it's not like he'd ever tell you where he was going.

“When…when will that be?” You asked hopefully. Every time you asked the questions, you got a response of soon, someday, and whenever I'm near, but never a true answer.

“Must you ask the same things over and over again,” the annoyance in his voice was palpable and he shot a harsh look at you. The thick red eyeliner around his eyes only making his sharp gaze even more menacing.

You liked him. You did. You liked his shy, bashful demeanor. You liked his beauty that could rival that of the finest paintings. And you thought you liked the mystery of him. You thought you did, until you realized how hard it was getting answers from him. Until you realized that with the way things were going, you would truly never know anything about him. Until you realized that even his name, was a luxury you'd probably never receive.

“I just want to know you,” you muttered softly.

“You know enough,” he stepped closer to you until the two of you were face to face. His eyes, those blue orbs that looked deeper than the ocean, were hard to read. A mixture of hesitation, confliction, anger, and a little sorrow.

You couldn't open your mouth to ask what he meant. He was already kissing you. His lips were soft and tasted sweet like fruit, and his kisses were always passionate. His cherry pink lips danced across yours as you slowly began to sink into the kiss.

When it ended, you were left longing. Your eyes stayed closed for a moment too long and only fluttered open after you began to feel his breath against your damp lips. You wanted to say more, but you couldn't. You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know how you could begin a conversation over this.

“Could I at least know your name?” You asked him and you watched his face fall again.

He sighed and pretended to ignore your question, not even bothering to give it the time of day. And that was an answer enough.

Your sweetheart stayed for different amounts of time. Sometimes it was days, sometimes it was weeks, sometimes, it was just a few hours. He let you know when he was leaving, but never told you when he was coming back, and today was the same.

He left you home by giving you another passionate kiss on the lips and a promise to come back before you knew it. You watched the tassels on his hat sway in the wind as he just walked, his form growing farther and farther away until he was just a spec in the distance and then you were all alone again, contemplating what had just happened.

Time waited for no one, and you were included in that statement. When your purple haired sweetheart came to visit, you'd neglect your work as an apothecary to spend time with him. You supposed that's what he was to you. An escape from your mundane life. A mystery you'd never solve, but a passionate one nonetheless.

You gathered all the medicines you made to sell and walked towards the direction of the city. Liyue harbor was bustling, as it always was. Day or night, it was a city that seemed to never sleep. You loved to watch the vibrant way the people moved from your little house on a hilltop, far away from civilization.

It was truly a blessing and a curse. You did grow lonesome out in the mountains, but you had easier access to herbs and flora that normal people wouldn't be able to get their hands on. Plus…being in the city has a way of making your skin crawl.

There was this prickly feeling on the back of your neck that followed you as you walked through the streets and alleyways. A feeling of being watched, of eyes on you somewhere, but you didn't know where. There were people in every direction you turned, all with their own stories and their own lives, going their own way, none of them seemed to focus on you. And yet the feeling never left.

Although you walked alone, you found yourself picking up and listening to the conversations of those around you. Talks of trade and contracts interested you when you had no one to talk to.

But you also heard other whispers. Whispers of things like crime, loan sharks, and most specifically, the Fatui. By the archons above you, you promised to never get yourself involved in any business with the Northland bank. Owned an operated by the Fatui themselves, they gave out deals that seemed too good to be true, and that's because they were.

The harbinger over the bank was one that made you tremble in fear over just the thought of him. You'd never met him in person yourself, but you'd seen him parading through the streets. He has a face that would make girls swoon, but only the ones that didn't know his true intentions.

“The balladeer came through the city again recently,” you heard one lady speak in a hushed whisper.

“The one that wears the fancy hat?”

That's what made you stop in your tracks and you concentrated on that name: The Balladeer? It was one you'd never heard before. You couldn't help, but to stop at the corner, holding your baskest of medicinal herbs close to your chest as you eavesdropped on their conservative out of curiosity of the familiar description.

“Yeah, that's him! He just left a couple days ago,” you felt your heart began to pound a bit quicker now, your mouth going dry. Your sweetheart had left just a mere three days ago.

“Too bad he's Fatui,” she said with with a disheartened sigh, “His face is heavenly, even with that frown he's always wearing.” you could feel yourself gasping for air. It couldn't be him, could it?

But the things lined up, just a little too well. The balladeer left when your sweetheart did, he was also seen wear a fancy hat. The pretty face with the rude expression. It would explain so much.

The secrecy. Why he constantly would leave and travel across Teyvat. His aggression towards you knowing more about him, his lack of a name. All of the pieces of the puzzle clicked together and hit you like a ton of bricks.

You weren't dating some mysterious stranger. You weren't dating “sweetheart”. Your current boyfriend was the balladeer, a Fatui harbinger, and a dangerous one at that from the way the ladies talked about him in hushed whispers.

You bit your lip as you tried to hold back tears. How could you be so stupid? After everything was said, it all made sense and you realized, truly realized the danger you'd put yourself in.

Rushing home, you didn't even sell your medicine for the day. You couldn't bring yourself to stay in the city any longer. Not when you knew that there were Fatui, his subordinates around.

The door to your home was locked and shut tight. The once comforting walls felt like they were closing in on you. The home that you welcomed him to, you let him visit whenever he pleased, you allowed him in with open arms. In this very home, he was lying to you.

A month went by before you saw him again. A month before you heard the chimes, the song that was just for you. A month before you smelt the citrus in the air. All tell tale signs that he was here. He was at your door.

Usually you'd swing that for open and jump into his arms. You kiss him and hug him, you'd drag him into your home and smother him with the affection he pretended to hate. But all you could do was stay as far away from the door as possible, hudded in a corner, you pretended not to know that he was there.

It was gentle at first. The knocking sound. He rarely knocked before, you always knew he was there before he even had the chance to.

“Hey! Open up!” You heard him call, his voice muffled by the wood of the door. Those hurried words of his were followed by more knocking, this time, louder and harder.

“(Y/N)! Open the door!” More loud knocking, enough to shake the house, “Why aren't you answering?!”

You bit your lip to muffle your cries. He was out there. The fatui harbinger. The balladeer. Your sweetheart. He was out there, begging to be let in. It was him, you told yourself, it was your lover. So, why were you so afraid?

The banging turned to the pounding and the pounding made the wood of the door start to splinter. You had slid further back into the corner of your home, covering your mouth to quiet yourself as your tears wet your hand.

Kick after kick after kick, until the door was barely hanging on by the hinges. He could finally see you, through a crack in the door. His face was red with rage, but his eyes were wide with worry and concern.

“I told you to open the door!” He yelled at you, finally kicking away the last piece of wood that kept you from him. His chest was heaving, but he didn't make a move towards you. In his hand, he was holding a bouquet of flowers, so tightly that the paper was crumpled, “Why... why are you hiding from me?”

You didn't answer his question. Looking at the man before you now, it wasn't your sweetheart. It wasn't your lover. It wasn't who you'd come to truly care for after these months. He really was the Balladeer.

You watch his face twist and contort with a mix of emotions. A scowl, a frown, a grimace. Fear and anger flicker across his face so quickly, it's like a blur. But then it settles. It all settles. A single tear down his cheek is the only sign left of sweetheart before his face turns to that neutral expression. That frown that didn't suit his heavenly features.

The flowers were dropped to the ground, wilted and forgotten, and he stepped closer to you, over what remnants of a door you had.

“You know?” He asked in pure disbelief, a pain in his eyes that you couldn't even describe, “You found out?”

Your trembling form wasn't enough to sway him. He was used to being looked at this way by others, but by you, it did hurt a bit more.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you whimpered between sobs. Your pathetic display obviously wasn't enough to melt his frozen heart. He merely kneeled in front of you, unaffected by the way you slinked away from him in fear of what he as a harbinger could do.

“Because I knew you would look at me like this,”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere x you #scaramouche x reader

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magics-neptunes-things · 7 months

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Adversity

Hello everyone!

Here you are with a new story, with my one and only Ona. I hope you liked it! Please tell me what you think about it ♥

TW : Dirty Talk, mention of lover fight and mention of possible smut.

(Of course according to logic some dialogues are supposed to be in Spanish, but by sheer laziness I will simply put everything in English without translation)

___________________________________________________________

With your face resting on your hand, you are sitting at a table in the refectory in which the team usually meets for breakfast before the big games. Your teammates seem in a good mood, but you must admit that you don't listen to what they can tell around you. You vaguely realized that Lucy, Salma and Claudia are sitting next to you, but that’s it. Playing with food and the tip of your fork, it's only when Alexia settles down on the vacant chair next to you that you leave your gloomy thoughts.

You see her looking at you with wrinkled eyes while gently placing her tray on the table.

"What?" you asked raising an eyebrow.

"That’s what I was going to ask you. What’s going on?"

You shrugs, taking a small piece of tortilla on your fork.

"Nothing"

"She had a fight with Ona last night and they both are moody in their corner of the room"

Lucy answer at the same time as you and Alexia eyes goes to the english girl. You glare at Lucy, who send you a big smile, chewing her toast with some disgusting happiness.

In fact, she was right. Ona, contrary to your habits, was not at your side but at another table with Aitana, Ingrid and Mapi. It was in reality you who had changed tables when you saw her installed with the three other girls. A very stupid moove since it made you even sadder than you were already.

You can’t even tell why you started arguing, probably because of a small thing like every rare time it happens. But you went to bed angry and when you woke up Ona was already gone. She had an appointment with your medical team for a vague story of aductors and the worst is that you don’t even know if she’s okay and able to play.

"You're ok?" Alexia ask, full of empathy.

"She will be, you know how they are. If they are not reconciled after the game and in each other’s arms, call me Lucia for the rest of my life."

Lucy raise her eyebrows with amusement, while you prefer to answer nothing and lean against the back of your chair, showing her your middle finger.

"Leave her alone Lucia" Salma smiles.

You take advantage that Claudia relaunches a conversation with Salma and Lucy to lean discreetly towards Alexia.

"You know what the doctors said about Ona?"

"Yes, false alarm, she has nothing at all. She will be able to play the game as planned."

You nod, despite everything relieved to learn that your girlfriend is fine. Alexia doesn't add anything and doesn't even point out that you could have gone to ask her yourself, preferring to place a reassuring hand on your arm. The blonde definitely has great captain qualities.

On Ona's side, the mood is also gloomy. If the Spaniard finished her plate at Aitana’s insistence, she can’t help but look at your back and try to guess the interactions you have with your teammates. She saw you raise your middle finger at Lucy and then lean towards Alexia. She obviously also noticed that you didn’t swallow anything.

"Ona for God’s sake go talk to her!"

Ona responds negatively at Mapi's sentence with a nod and biting her lip. In her eyes, the fact that you didn't come to sit next to her is a way to make her understand that you have no desire to see her at the moment. And even if it break her heart, she respects it.

"What was the fight about?" Ingrid ask full of concern.

"I... I can't ever remember"

"Oh god, you are a real lesbian couple cliché, both of you" Mapi wines, earning a knowing smile from Ingrid.

Even Ona must bite the inside of her cheeks to avoid smiling.

******************

Like Ona, you're starting the game too. Striker, you will be next to Alexia as Ona is on the back with Mapi, Ingrid and Lucy. You have not yet exchanged a word, but the elusive looks of the beginning of the day have become longer and longer. You even get a little smile from her when you turn around in her direction, while you wait with the rest of the team in the tunnel to enter the field. You smile back, just before the signal is given to you.

You were playing the final of the Copa de la Reina, against Real Madrid. As the rivalry between the two clubs no longer has to be explained, you all expect it to be a physically difficult match.

And the firsts minutes of the match will show you that you were right to have prepared yourself for this. The opposing players don't hesitate to tackle the person with the ball, sometimes rather hard. It's only at the eighth minute that a shock leaves Ona on the ground, much longer than usual. Usually she's quick to get back on her feet and run to her post, willing to take all the shots without flinching. This is not currently the case and it lasts a little too long for your taste.

So you decide to take advantage of the game stop to approach her, while she is still sitting on the lawn.

It's only when she looks up at you that she realizes you have approached her, a mixture of surprise and relief passing briefly on her face.

"You ok?" you ask softly as she nods.

"Yeah. My head is hard"

"Tell me about it" you joke.

You give her a small smile before before reaching out to help her up. She gives you a smile back and with that you go back to your place with such relief that you almost feel like you’re flying. Finally maybe you will be able to reconcile, even if you can't bother Lucy aka Lucia.

******************

After half-time, the score is 2-0 for Barcelona, thanks to a goal by Alexia and a free-kick rather well drawn on your part, in all modesty obviously. You sat next to Ona in the locker room without talking, looking like two collegians in love but you didn't care. You even managed to avoid Lucy’s goofy look.

Back on the field, the game is even more brutal and rough than before. Dirty talk is also added by the Real Madrid players.

And Ona is the first one to suffer. In the action of the game and after a battle for the ball, you find yourself unbalanced by the number 12 of the opposing team who simply falls on you. Lying on you while you find yourself on your back, the situation isn't really pleasant. You nervously clear your throat, realizing that it takes her a few seconds too long to get up, both of her hand on either side of your waist, her face only a few inches from yours.

It's only when Alexia takes her by the arm to lift her up that you are finally released.

"Don't kill my best striker. Thanks."

Your captain’s icy tone sends your opponent back to her place, but she can’t help but smile with a bad look at Ona.

"Your girlfriend is really hot Batlle. Maybe at the end of the game I’ll have the trophy and your girl screaming my name in my room, who knows?"

Of course your girlfriend attended the scene and she already felt her blood bubbling. Far from suspecting what is happening, you thank Alexia on your side with a simple look. Jaw clenched, Ona takes a few steps in her direction but is immediately stopped by Mapi. No need to say anything, a look exchanged between the two women makes Ona realize that it's indeed not necessary to enter into this kind of things.

"You seem very sure of yourself, Leon. Maybe I could give your girl a try too"

Badly for her, with all the teasing she didn't realise that the game started again. And it only took a few tens of seconds for Ona to express her frustration in her rush and go to score a goal at the other end of the field.

Sincerely proud of her, this time you can’t resist joining your teammates to congratulate her. Both of you aren't the type to exchange kisses in public, especially on football fields, but you enjoy this embrace perhaps a little longer than usual.

"My little dragster" you smile and the smile she give you back asks you to use all your self-control not to kiss her until your lungs scream for help to get oxygen again.

Instead you kiss her cheeks and go back again where you belong on the pitch. And this time Ona will be content to address a corner smile to number 12 who will throw her a new spade based on "It is not that which will prevent me from asking her her number"

******************

35 minutes later, the referee whistles the end of the game, awarding the victory to your team. Cries of joy rise in the stands as you begin to celebrate this victory too. Salma happens to be the closest to faith to the whistle, she was the first you hug soon joined by Alexia and several other of your teammates.

After releasing her, your eyes begin to travel the field, eagerly looking for your small brown head. Lost in your contemplation, you don't notice the number 12 of the opposing team which makes its way in your direction of a decided step. But Mapi does and she runs to you, jumping on your body, turning you away from her new enemy number one.

"Great kick maestro" she smiles, dragging you to the middle of the field by your hand.

You were going to protest that you would like to see your girlfriend, but you barely opened your mouth when she magically appears next to you.

"Hi" she says with her supermagic smile.

"Hi" you say back, before opening your arms.

She doesn't hesitate a second before snuggling up, seeing over your shoulder Number 12 with an air of defeat that fills her with pleasure. You're hers, no matter what. Passing her two arms around your neck, she sighs with ease at the same moment you feel your body finally relax against her. Her happiness grows a little more when she hears you whisper in the hollow of her ear.

"I want to kiss you so bad right now"

She smiles and look at your eyes, biting her lips thoughtfully.

"Maybe later, if you are nice enough"

"I was born nice"

You fake a pout and Ona smile wider. As you remove some golden confetti that fell in her hair, you see Lucy two meters from you. She's looking at you, arms crossed over her chest with an air that seems to speak for him.

"What did I tell you?"

And, while you find yourself in a fiery makeout session in a corner of the stadium with Ona a few hours and glasses of sangria later, you have probably never been so happy that Lucy was right. Ona's lips on yours, your arms keeping her between you and the wall and the caresses she makes on your neck are the only reality you want to face right now.

She will talk to you about the statements of the unfamous Numero 12 opposing team once you get home, needing to talk to you anyway. Because despite your arguments, you tell yourself everything.

And if someone asks her, if there’s a name that was screamed by you that night, it’s definitely hers.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine

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kienansidhe · 3 months

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i like how the nimona movie like. emotionally it feels like a sequel to the comic. like obvis its the same core characters and a lot of similar events so its not literally 1000 years after the events of the comic, but like tonally, thematically, it feels like it.

i liked the way the comic was a bit darker, both in terms of the characters moral complexity and in the way the ending was sadder, still hopeful but more the world isnt ready yet, theres hope for change but we arent quite there yet, nimona cant come back yet, shes still an outsider and cant live with her friends in the open even tho she knows they love her. its more the world as it is now.

i was a little frustrated at first at the way everyone is much less morally complex in the movie, theres a lot more clear cut none of the good guys ever did anything wrong rlly, it felt a bit sanitized (not rlly surprising given. you know. cost of being made by a big studio. but still disappointing). but at the same time theres some different themes being explored, and then the overall throughline is more hopeful.

i like how by making ballister both a man of color and more strongly emphasizing his background of poverty and how hard he had to work to make it as a knight, the way he is much less aware of the structural problems of society and tries to cling for awhile to oh its just the director who is the problem, it rlly gets into the model minority myth, the way you grow up being fed this lie that you arent being oppressed, that you just need to work harder, to prove to your oppressors that you arent lazy or lesser, both for yourself and for others like you. ballister in the comics already knows the system is broken, his quest is not to clear his name in the eyes of a flawed legal system, hes floundering but he knows the government is rotten. movie ballister is more naive, has to be guided to see that this is bigger than his own problem of being framed.

i like how nimona gets to be a hero in this story. the comic was a story of one person seeing the humanity in a monster, in a nimona who is much more angry and bitter and lashes out much harder. both stories have the theme of being saved by a single connection, by someone seeing you, acknowledging your personhood, but the comic sort of ends there. maybe someday the rest of society will understand, but they dont yet. maybe in another thousand years.

and then you get the movie, where nimona is softer (emotionally maybe bc of the comic thousand figurative years ago), but also sadder, less bitter and more despondent. its been another thousand years and she still isnt accepted. but things are different this time. nimona has enough hope that ballisters love and acceptance makes her want to save people, to change their perception of her. and she DOES everyone sees her as a hero she gets little kids making we love nimona drawings and its like ahhhhh this is the fulfillment of the promise at the end of the comic it feels SO good it feels like closure it feels like hope i love it so much!

#headspace #nimona

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tojisbbygworl · 10 months

Text

Before I Let Go - Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: A grieving woman comes face to face with her thought to be deceased husband and can't find it in her to care about how wrong this was. She missed him. So much.

WARNINGS: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide Attempt

Words: 4,994

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Emotional Smut, Desperation, Grief/Mourning, Yandere, Spying, Kidnapping, Minimal Spanish terms of endearment

author's note: hey y'all. I have another fic for you. I am so glad I finished it it's been sitting in my drafts for a minute. The yandere part of this isn't violent although there is some slight physical pain put on the reader during sex. Just a mention of choking and scratching it's not bad. It's more obsession if anything. Also, I wasn't even gonna try with the Spanish girl. The most he says is carina and hermosa and I know y'all are sick of seeing that atp. I barely even tried with the British for Hobie I'm not about to embarrass myself LMAO

I hope this makes y'all sad honestly I feel like I could have made it sadder but I'm still very happy with it. Anyway, enjoy! 🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

The buzzing sound of a phone call is all that can be heard in the apartment. It has been a week since the funeral, and Y/N O’Hara hasn’t said a single word. She doesn't even remember what her voice sounds like.

Miguel O'Hara was everything to her. He meant the entire world. She would do anything he asked, but he never asked for much. All he wanted was her love. She was the same with him. A perfect partnership. She felt like she was on top of the universe. And then it was taken away from her. In a fucking car crash, no less.

He was the smartest person she knew. He was the head geneticist at Alchemax after all. He wasn't a stupid driver. No. It was the other driver's fault. But what could she do about it? It was just a kid. A teenager that had just gotten their license, but hadn't taken official driving lessons; no one really drilled into them the severity of texting while driving. How could she really blame them? How could she press charges? Miguel always told her that she was too forgiving. Too understanding.

He was right. But...she also couldn't help but to think it wasn't fair. That her beautiful husband had to die from their actions, and all they had to deal with was an insane insurance increase and a fucked up car that their parents were bound to replace. She would give anything to trade consequences. Anything.

Almost two months since his death, she's been wandering around her apartment frequenting the most common places she and Miguel would cuddle in. She always had a shared blanket, one of his shirts, or a pillow that had his hair on it to squeeze and cry into. If she sprayed it with his cologne and shut her eyes really tight, she could almost imagine he really was there. Almost.

These objects could never replace him. She missed his warmth. She missed his chest pushing her head up and down from his breathing. It would rumble when he chuckled. His hands were so large that her entire back would heat up when he held her gently. He was so tall, 6'6 to be exact, he would completely engulf her whenever they embraced. She felt so safe in his arms. She doesn't feel safe anymore.

Nearly two months of hunching over on the floor of her apartment in pain. She wailed into the ground. Coughing and scratching whatever she could hold onto, because the pain was too much to bare. Oh, the pain. She wouldn't wish this kind of heartbreak on anyone or anything.

The apartment was large, courtesy of his checks. He could already afford it on his own, then, the both of them married just a few years ago and he didn't expect her to pay a dime, despite how much she insisted. Instead, she bought food and handled upkeep. If it got too expensive, then he would chip in. She would have to move out eventually, his remaining income and life insurance the only thing keeping her afloat. Just another thing that she can’t fathom.

It was 3 bed, 2 bath. One was their bedroom, the other was his office, she's been going in there a lot as well, and they always wondered what they would do with the last room. For so long, it was empty even before she moved in with him. He never knew what he could use it for. He had hoped that she would turn it into a hobby room, she loved to paint and she played the violin a little, but there was a beautiful terrace attached to the apartment that she opted for instead and she insisted the living room had the best acoustics so the room remained a mystery. Until last year, when he dropped a bomb on her.

It was an extremely average day for the both of them. They were both home from work, nothing interesting to report, and were deciding what to eat for dinner. She suggests something they could cook, and he agrees. As the night goes on, something seems off about Miguel. He's quiet and zoning out a lot. Something has to be on his mind, right?

"Babe," she calls for him snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm?"

"Everything alright?" She puts her hand on his shoulders and gives him a worried look. Miguel swallows his spit then turns towards her grabbing her hand and placing his on her waist.

"I've been thinking..." His voice is small. She starts to grow anxious as she had never seen him look so timid. He was more nervous than when he asked her to marry him.

"W-What is it?" She stutters. He kisses her knuckles.

"It's just something that I've been wanting for a while now. And if you don't, then It's completely fine. I care about your happiness above everything."

"Miguel, stop being so cryptic and tell me what's up," She half jokes.

He nervously bites his lips and looks away. Then, taking a deep breath, he looks into her eyes and says, "I want to have a kid."

She felt it was best to pretend the work-in-progress nursery didn't exist. In her mind, the room is still empty. There wasn’t a crib set up. The walls weren't in the process of being painted. They didn't have arguments about what to put on it because they didn't know the gender. In fact, gender of what? They weren't planning for a baby. The third room is as empty as she is.

The both of them were foolish, deciding to get everything set up before she got pregnant instead of winging it like everyone else. She should have winged it. Then maybe she would still have a piece of him with her.

It was so fucking hard to focus on what mattered. She was hanging on a thread that thinned out every single day. Before the funeral, she wondered what would be her breaking point? The point where she finally got up and decided to keep going.

The weather was very fitting for that day. The sun was gone, and the rain came in waves. Her tears, however, never stopped. It was a stupid decision to make it open casket. She gazed upon his resting face for the first time since he died in the hospital then turned and ran to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to say her speech; Miguel’s mother read for her instead.

Something inside her snapped. Sometimes the pain is a dull ache in her chest, and she’s numb everywhere else. Other times it’s a sharp twang that she can feel in her back. She has to lay or sit down when that happens. Sometimes it courses through her entire upper body and she can’t even move. But this…this stabbing, twisting, and searing pain that ripples through her heart and travels to the tip of her fingers and toes…she hasn’t felt this before.

This was the breaking point, but it did the opposite. She didn’t talk for the rest of the day, her and his family begging her to stay with them. She didn’t listen.

It was nights like tonight that she felt completely alone. She knew she wasn’t, if she just picked up the phone and texted someone, then maybe she would be okay. She just needed to stop looking at the ceiling, turn to her nightstand, pick up her phone, and call her mother. But it was 1 in the morning, and Miguel looked so happy in her lock screen picture…

Her and Miguel had been up here on the top of the apartment building so many times before. They liked to dance, he would watch her play or paint, they had picnics together, it was perfect when they wanted to get out of the apartment, but still have some privacy.

The view was nice. They could see across the entirety of Nueva York. Central Park in the fall was especially amazing to gaze upon. But now it fills her with grief. As she steps on top of the edge, she decides that if this couldn’t make her feel better, then nothing could.

She’s glad she’s doing this in the middle of the night, where no one could see her and call for help. She was sure that she would traumatize a couple people when morning came, a problem that she couldn’t be bothered by. She was ready to be back in his arms. So she walked off. And closed her eyes as she plummeted through the air.

She’s scared. But excited. She only has to feel excruciating pain for a second and then never again. It’s almost over.

She hits something, or more so, something hits her. She’s still flying through the air, but it’s different now. There’s a warm body holding onto her for dear life, and she’s soaring upwards into the night sky. Opening her eyes to gaze at her savior, she sees a masked silhouette. It-it’s Spider-Man…but he looks completely different. She can barely see him, the only source of light being the moon, but she could swear that this wasn’t his mask.

They land on the rooftop again and he puts her down. She crawls away from him, embarrassed and ashamed at what she’s done. She was still alive and now she was in more pain than ever before. Wailing on the floor, she glared up at him in vitriol.

“Why did you save me?” She yelled, her voice powerful for a woman who hadn’t been verbal for a week. Spider-Man didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her. “I didn’t want to be saved.” Still, he said nothing. So she continued to cry, and she cried harder and harder until she felt a sensation on her back.

He was trying to comfort her, but when she turned he backed off, holding his hands up instead. Her lips quivered, then she threw herself into his arms. His hold on her body was snug and comforting. Her anger for him dissipates immediately as she accepts his affection. For the first time in a while, she felt safe. She didn’t want him to let go.

And he didn’t. He stayed until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he picked her up, gazing upon her peaceful face with the light from the inter dimensional portal, then walked into it with no intention of coming back.

This wasn’t her room.

She sat up in the bed and took in her surroundings. These weren’t her sheets, that wasn’t her wallpaper, the blinds were different, the floor wasn’t carpeted, everything even the floor plan of the room was different. This isn’t her home.

Her heart begins to pound. Where was she? She was still in her clothes, but that’s the only comfort that she had. Immediately, she shoots out of the bed, the comforter tangling in her feet making her fall onto the floor. The large thump that her fall makes scares her. She stays on the floor, still and quiet as a mouse. There's no noise for a couple seconds. Then, the sound of someone walking.

She hyperventilates, quickly removing herself from the blanket and standing up. But she realizes that she has no where to go. There's a small closet in the room, and space under the bed, but those the only hiding spaces she can think of. And the footsteps were getting closer. What can she do, she wonders as she backs into the wall.

The door swings open. And her heart stops.

Miguel stared at his wife's variant in concern and turns on the light. The woman blinks and shields her eyes, but the bewildered look that she sported quickly comes back. "What happened?"

When he spoke, she gasped and took another step back. She smacked her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her breath shuddered. "You're alright?" Miguel asked her again. She didn't answer.

For what felt like the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was afraid of approaching her thinking he may scare her away. She was in completely disbelief at what she was seeing. Miguel raised his hands and stayed near the door way. "Please, don't freak out," he began.

She let out a sob, tears escaping her eyes when she did. Placing her hand on her chest, she lifts herself from the wall. Miguel takes this as a sign to keep going.

"I know you must be confused. You're probably upset and angry. I understand." She took a step forward. "But if you would just left me explain..." Another step. Then another. And another. And she held her hand out in front of her. As she approached him, he realized how badly she was trembling, and it only got worse the closer she got. But still, she moved forward.

The speech Miguel had been practicing before she woke up died in his throat. He was speechless as he watched her courageously close the space between them. When she finally stood right in front of him, she hesitated. He could hear her soft gasps and cries. Then finally, she softly touched his chest. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Even though she was crying profusely, she looked upon him in wonder. He just wants to reach out and grab her, but he holds himself back.

She begins to rub his chest and torso, appalled by his presence. He looks back down at her hands. Then, they trail themselves up to his neck, stopping right under his chin. He lifts his head up. They both hold their breath for a second. Then, with a gasp from her, and a sigh from him, she finally touches his cheek. Miguel closes his eyes and leans into her palm. He lifts his arm up, and encases her hand in his, keeping it in place.

Her lips begin to move. With a tiny shaky breath, she whispers, "It's you."

Miguel's face is troubled. He has a small frown and his eyebrows were upturned. He twists his head in her palm to give it a small kiss.

Her eyes flicker all over his body. It is him...but he's different. He's taller now. His build is thicker and he feels tense. Miguel was a gym buff, but this man...this kind of definition is not built in the gym. His frown is deep, and so are his wrinkles. His eyes were more troubled than hers, and had the slightest hint of red. And his teeth...she could feel his sharp canines with her thumb.

"No," she realizes. "It's not you."

Miguel opens his eyes and stares at her. He can see the fear growing on her face, and he starts to panic. He moves his hand to her wrist to hold it gently. But he's prepared to squeeze it if she tries to run. "I'm not him. But-"

"But you look like him." She continues, her voice on the precipice of hysteria. "And you sound like him." She holds both of his cheeks and caresses his face with her thumbs. "And you feel like him..."

Miguel winces as he watches her cry louder and louder with every observation. "Cariña, please," He takes her hands off of his face and kisses her knuckles. She completely breaks down crying. Miguel reaches his arms out, and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing into his neck. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now."

"But who are you?" Her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He gulps. "...I am Miguel, but-"

"But you're not my Miguel, are you?" She lifts her head up to stare at him. She looked anguished, her brain not being able to process what was going on. He doesn't answer. "Did you save me?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I had to, baby. I-"

"Where did you come from?" She pushes herself off of him, and Miguel can't find it in him to hold her there. He let's go of her, knowing that there is no where she can really run where he won't find her. "No, where have you been?"

He furrows his brows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" She screams at him in unbridled rage. Her tears were never ending, and her glare was fierce. "I was in fucking agony when you died. I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't get over you. I didn't want to. I missed you so much." Her anger turned into desperation and she falls to her knees on the floor, weeping into her hands. Miguel looks on in desolation, his eyes filling with tears as well. He walks to her and leans down, trying to get her to stand. She flips her head up at him. "Who are you?"

"Please, let me explain." He sits on the floor with her, holds her face and leans into it. She doesn't pull away, instead, she kisses him first, her cries never ending. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair. Miguel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. He sits back and pulls her into his lap.

The kiss lasts until they run out of breath, then they pull away, panting in each others' faces. "I...am Miguel." He starts. "But not your Miguel. And you are not my Y/N."

She shakes her head and scrunches up her face. "Just listen." Her mouth closes again, and she relaxes preparing herself to take in every word he says...

...Miguel spent a lot of time watching her. His Y/N, across the multiverse. In each one, they are together. It's fate. And in every one...she dies. No matter what that universe's Miguel does, she dies. That must be fate, too. Then he found a universe where that didn't happen. He died instead. He took a chance, and when he replaced himself he was the happiest he had ever been. And then everything was destroyed. An entire universe...gone. He swore to never interfere with fate again. He whispered a soft 'sorry' to every Miguel he found after that.

He saw her, Y/N on Earth - 548. Happy as ever with her devilishly handsome husband. He felt for him. He had no idea the heartbreak he was about to experience. But, for the second time in his studies, he was the one who died. He cried, knowing that he could never do anything about it. When she became a shell of her former self, he focused all of his attention on her. Putting all of his work on Jess and Peter, he monitored her. He watched her cry, she spent all of her time off from work at home rolling around in her bed as if the emotional pain was so strong that it was physical as well. He watched her touch herself at night, whispering his name into the empty air, him joining her from where he was spying groaning her name as well, wishing his cum was dripping from her cunt instead of down his hand. He called for her, hoping that his prayers to keep her safe would reach who ever was listening. They didn't.

He knew that when she sat up like a ghost from her bed that fateful night, she was about to do something rash. He held his hand over his watch, ready to jump as soon as he felt he needed to. When she began to walk to the edge, he decided to not even risk it and hopped into the portal.

He didn't expect her to turn and scream at him the way she did. He hadn't heard her beautiful voice for some time, he missed it so much, and the first thing she did was yell at him. He was stunned. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him. He looked at his watch. No indication of a canon event. There was nothing. Which meant...she was never supposed to die.

He was impulsive, he knows that. But, it worked out in his favor. She was supposed to be alive. He had done right. And now he had a decision to make. Does he leave her here to figure everything out on her own, or does he take her with him...and let her family think she's dead…

“You were watching me?”

Miguel refuses to meet her eyes. She didn’t move, but he tightened his grip around her just in case. Her voice was wavering.

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Why didn’t you save him?”

He looked up at her that time. Above everything else, she was melancholy. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t, mi amor. You don’t understand.”

With her face contorted in pain, she released a choked sob. Her mouth was hung open. If she chose to believe this imposter, than hearing that nothing could have been done about the love of her life brought her no comfort. It wasn’t fair.

She gripped Miguel’s shirt letting her head fall forward into his chest. He held her for a long time while her shoulders shook. “Please, believe me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her cries stopped. He began to worry, but she soon lifted her head up and looked into his eyes. His flicked back and forth between hers, and the both of them dive into another passionate kiss. This time, they don’t let up from each other. It gets more intense. Miguel’s breath picks up as his hands begin to explore her back and waist. She pushes her body up against his, rubbing their chests together.

She’s the one who pulls away opting to kiss down from his cheek to his neck. “Just come to bed with me. Please?” She begs into his skin.

Miguel, in a daze, whispers “Okay.”

He lifts her up and lays her down onto his bed, kissing her sweetly as he climbed on top of her. He felt so much bliss, he never imagined he would be able to do this again.

The way she grabbed his face made him never want to physically leave her side again. This was where he wanted to stay for the rest of their lives. She kissed him with so much despair, so much need, how could he ever leave her mouth? But, the strain in his pants and the grip she had on his back get worse, and he finds a reason to pull away.

She whimpers, missing the way his tongue caressed her mouth, leaving her lips swollen and shiny. Her eyes open, silently asking him where he was going, until he reached under the hem of her shirt and lifts it off of her, exposing her beautiful breasts. She gasps when he begins to rub his hand between them, eventually grabbing one to hold and play with. Miguel grins at her while she watches him rub his thumb across her hardened nipple. Which turned into her watching him dip his head down to her sternum and leave the smallest, lightest kiss.

The restraint he had on himself as he trailed his mouth down her body was unnatural. His claws had long since come out, ripping into the bedsheets as he tried so hard not replace them with her luscious hips. She was responding unbelievably well, making him happy he didn’t listen to Lyla tell him how terrible of an idea this was.

Lyla was wrong, he told himself when he heard her soft cry as his tongue played with her nipple. She began to squirm from frustration, and he just had to push his hips in between her open legs, the heat from his dick making her rub her wet panties along his shaft. Miguel moaned with her nipple fully inside his mouth, her moaning with him from the vibration against her chest.

She’s not scared of me, he thought as he leaves her nipple and kisses down her body. His lips finally met up with her panties, opting to push them to the side instead of taking them off completely. He places a kiss on her sensitive clit, his precum staining his underwear when she yelps. Miguel takes a moment to look at her glistening pussy, then he closes his eyes when he finally licks it.

And she doesn’t hate me. Miguel looks drunk when he starts eating her out. His eyebrows are raised and he gently placed her hand on her spread thigh, caressing the soft skin. Her whines making him even more desperate to please her, he presses his tongue into her center harder. His lips are covered with her fluid. Miguel gives her thigh a nice squeeze, then a slap, then he stands up straight.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, her heart races. His eyelids were low, and he towered over body making her feel smaller than she was. His stare was filled with infatuation, wiping off his lower face with one swipe of his large hand. Without breaking eye contact, he rips his shirt off and swipes his pants and underwear down, his large member bouncing back up. Miguel spit into his palm and started jerking himself off. Then, he climbs onto the bed, aligning his hips with hers.

He drools onto her pussy, her shuddering as his spit meets her clit and runs down her lips. It does well to lube her up with Miguel rubbing his tip in between her folds. “Ngh…fuck,” he mutters, the feeling of her wet cunt on his sensitive head giving him a feeling of euphoria.

She grew impatient, while Miguel was trying to take his time and savor her, she was ready to feel him split her apart. This was something she’s been dreaming about since she lost him. She waited for the day his naked body would engulf hers, his face on her cheek whispering filthy insults and sweet praises into her ear. As she remembers how sex used to be with her love, she starts to tear up.

“Miguel,” she whined making him look at her worriedly. When his eyes open, the red she noticed before is even more prominent. His mouth was opened slightly so she could barely see his fangs. How he could look so similar yet so different from her Miguel, she doesn’t know.

“Yes?” He asks her.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer. I want…” She moves her hips on him again. Miguel looks down at their hips and holds hers still.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes his length into her slowly. He grunts as he sheathes himself inside her warmth, reveling in her cries. “Shit, baby.” She’s tight and squeezing him so nicely, he can’t stop until he's inside of her fully.

She’s breathing heavily with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her back is arched lifting her naked chest into the air. “Look at me,” Miguel commands. She lifts her head up giving him what he wanted. Her eyes are filled with tears. It hurts, but feels so good. She missed him so much, and now they were one again.

Miguel whimpers at her beautiful face. “Hermosa,” he reaches out to her cheek to hold it. “Don’t cry.”

“But I love you,” she tells him.

He gasps. His hand lifts from her face. Freezing, he stares into her eyes in disbelief. “W-What?”

She takes his hand and brings it to her lips, leaving a gentle smooch. Her eyes close and the tears fall. “I love you, Miguel.”

His eyesight gets blurry as well, and soon Miguel is crying profusely. “Oh, baby,” he leans over her and pulls his hips backwards. Then he slams himself back down, making her yelp. She grabs his face and kisses him. “I love you too.”

As Miguel fucks her slowly, neither of them can find it in them to stay quiet. Miguel has to tell her how terribly in love with her he is. She has to let him know how much she missed him. He leans into her neck and whispers how he missed her too, and to stop crying because he’s here now. Even though, he can’t stop crying either.

She’s so happy to hear that he will never leave her side. She decides to believe him, accepting happiness instead of reality. She ignores his red eyes, his sharp fangs that press against her neck, as if he can barely hold himself back from biting her. She ignores how different the rumbling in his chest is from her Miguel. It’s not soft or sweet nor does it make her content. This one is predatory and dangerous, it makes her nervous.

She dismisses the way he grabs her neck; tight, leaving her with no air, whereas her Miguel knew that she didn’t like it rough. Honestly, neither did he. This Miguel went faster and harder. He grunted into her ear. But, she doesn't care.

She completely ignores how different this Miguel was. Her wishes were answered. She got him back. It doesn’t matter that his hold on her hip was so strong that he’s scratching her. That he didn’t stop or slow down when she came making her overstimulated. She let him cum inside her soon after, knowing that she wasn’t on anything.

“I miss you so fucking much,” she wailed when he slipped his dick out of her, his cum following suit and staining the bed beneath her.

Instead of getting a warm towel, Miguel laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms silencing her cries. “I told you baby, I’m right here.” But she doesn’t correct herself. She doesn’t calm down. She grips him for dear life and Miguel grows nervous.

Lyla was wrong…right?

“You know she will never love you the way she loved him. It will never be the same. Miguel...are you listening?”

“Lyla…shut down.”

ending a/n: Heyyyyy, did y'all like it? This will definitely not be my only Miguel fic but rn I don't really have any ideas for him. My brain is filled with thoughts of Hobie, and I need to stop neglecting my baby daddy Toji, lmao. So I'll be working on a real quick Hobie imagine and my AO3 stories as well for now. Unless I think of something else. I've been thinking about requests but I will fuck around and make a whole story from it cuz idk how to stop writing so damn much. Y'all I rly dk if I want to make another part to JFTN I rly like how it ended and I can't rly think about how I would continue it. Y'all might just have to deal idk girl. I love ya though! Anyway, I'll see y'all in the next story!🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader

913 notes · View notes

cutielando · 4 months

Note

Can I have oneshots for Theodore nott and reader when he finds out that their daughter is constantly bullied at school?

PROTECTIVE

my masterlist

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Wife!Reader x Daughter

School can be tough. That was a given. Especially if you end up being a Slytherin.

Theodore knew that better than anyone. Being a Slytherin himself, also being friends with the infamous Draco Malfoy always attracted some unwanted attention.

Most of the other students knew not to mess with him, but there was still the occasional bully who didn't give a shit and picked on him anyhow.

Because of that, he never wanted his kids to experience the kind of pain he went through when he was younger. He did everything in his power to make sure your children were safe and happy at school.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He didn't notice the signs early on, but you did.

Y/D/N was more distant than usual, spending an awful lot of her time in her room when she was home for the holidays and summer break, her letters always failed to mention any of her school friends and the atmosphere there, she was sadder and lost the spark that she always used to have in her eyes.

Thinking it could be something serious, you decided to talk to your husband about it.

"Tesoro?' you asked him one night as you entered your shared bedroom and saw his under the covers, reading a new book he had purchased the previous day.

"Yes, amore?" he put the book aside as you sat next to him, giving you his full attention.

"Can we talk about something?" you were nervous, you didn't even know how to approach this subject with Theo.

"Of course we can, amore. What's bothering you?" he took your hand in his, drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm.

"I'm worried about Y/D/N" you confessed.

His eyebrows were scrunched, not understanding where you were coming from.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know. She's just...different. She hasn't been herself in a while, she's always in her room, she barely eats or talks to us, her letters seem downright robotic and she's just not the same girl we know her as anymore. I'm worried something might be happening over at the school" you explained.

You felt Theo's hand that was holding yours tense up, stopping the movements.

You looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched, he was fuming and looking at a fixated point on the wall of your bedroom.

"Do you think someone might be making fun of her? Bullying her?" his voice was low and tense, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know, but I think maybe we should talk to her. You should talk to her, you know she'll open up to you a lot faster than me" Theo nodded at that, numerous thoughts running through his mind.

Y/D/N had always been a daddy's girl ever since she was little and you were okay with that. Your younger son was a mama's boy, so it evened the scales a little bit.

You knew that Y/D/N would open up to your husband and you hoped that the problem wasn't as bad as you felt it was.

"I'll talk to her"

Come the next day at breakfast, Theo turned to your daughter as soon as you and your son left the kitchen to go to the living room.

"Y/D/N, love, I wanted to talk to you about something" he started and put his hand over hers.

"What is it?" she was avoiding eye contact with her father, which happened very rarely when they would talk.

Theo put a hand under her chin, slowly lifting up her face so she could look at him.

Her eyes had lost their sparkle, now void of any emotion and tired.

"What is bothering you, vita mia?" Theo asked, brushing his finger over her cheek.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, wanting to let the pair talk in private. You instead focused all of your attention on your son, who was more than content to have his beloved mother's attention on him.

"Nothing, dad" Y/D/N tried to shrug Theo off, but he was having none of that.

"Stella, don't push me away. Your mother and I are very worried about you. You haven't been yourself for a while and it's concerning us. What is wrong, vita mia?"

Just one look into her father's eyes and she was sobbing, letting herself fall into his arms and clinging to him.

Your heart broke when you heard your little girl sob, taking everything in you not to run in there and scoop her up in your arms to reassure her that everything would be okay.

"I hate them, dad" Y/D/N whispered once her sobs had calmed down a little.

"Who do you hate, stella?" he was trying to keep his anger in check, his blood boiling at the thought of anyone hurting his princess.

"Everyone at school. They all make fun of me for being a Slytherin and they bully me because their parents hate you and now they say they're supposed to hate me too. I'm just so tired of always being the one getting hurt over there" the young girl finally confessed, her words breaking Theo's heart.

He pulled away from the hug, instead opting to take her face in his hands.

"Y/D/N, listen to me. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is allowed to make you feel bad or think any less about yourself. You are perfect, mi stella. You hung my moon and stars from the day you were born and both your mother and I know that you're destined for great things and a bright future. Never listen to what anyone else has to say about you when you know the truth about yourself. Do you understand?" the girl nodded, giving her father a small smile.

"I love you, dad" she said before kissing his cheek, hugging his body once again.

"I love you more, vita mia"

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esamastation · 6 months

Text

Shizuroth, part twenty-seven

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six

Sephiroth can't stand up. It's kind of embarrassing. Actually, forget that - it's really embarrassing! Even when sitting down he feels all wobbly and unsteady!

After the hyperfocus mode passed, it all just sorta crashed down on him.

He's barely managed to wrangle his fluctuating Qi back under control, but the wild surges, stops and starts and the awful flare-ups before have left him feeling like jello in human form. He's gone through what feels like an earthquake, a volcanic eruption, but from the inside - and then he strained to keep at all in! Twisted himself into a pretzel in order to teach, spraining his everything in the progress! Now his veins are freshly scorched, his flesh feels tenderised, and he can feel his bones. It is incredibly unsettling to be so aware of your bones!

For such a minor Qi-deviation it's really too much. Who told Sephiroth to have this much Qi - and also this many muscles! He's strained all of them!

And now he can't stand up. Well, not without swaying and stumbling and probably falling over himself like an idiot, anyway. Which makes it the same thing. His cute disciples - that is, the other SOLDIER members are still watching him. After what he put them through in his delirium, he can't show such an embarrassing face as to get up only to fall flat on his face!

He can hear them now, murmuring quietly amongst themselves in the hall outside.

"... Like, breathing, I think? And I think you're not supposed to think about anything…"

"How can you not think about anything?"

"... Been quiet for a while. No word from the director either…"

"... Think there's still chocolate bars left in the vending machine?"

Ooh, chocolate. Sephiroth could kill for a chocolate bar right now. He really should've thought about that before! Semi-modern world with inexplicably a lot of the same stuff as Earth has - he really should've realised that might include modern style sweets! And, damn, he's missed chocolate so much, back in PIDW. He should get chocolate, as a treat. He deserves it!

But he can't get up. Plus, he destroyed the place! How can he show his face outside after he destroyed the whole room? It's not like he can explain himself - this world doesn't even know what Qi-deviation is! On the outside it seemed just like he went crazy! Which might be in character for Sephiroth, but - still!

So here he is, a third hour in running, cultivating and meditating with no better way to solve this issue. Soon, something would happen to force his hand, or this would go on forever, and eventually he'd die. There's no other recourse.

At least he'd mostly managed to repair the damage done to his meridians. His poor dantians, flooded with chaotic Qi just when he got them to open up, took a hit - but hey, at least there's no golden core there to damage!

Yeah, that just… makes him sadder, really.

Sephiroth draws a slow breath and teases another snag in his system to loosen up - smoothing another scarred vein until it relaxes. He should go back to physical cultivation, it worked so beautifully for Sephiroth's system - but alas… he can't stand up.

Ah, he's really doomed.

"Heads up - elevator."

"Oh, shit, it's Hewley."

"Here we go…"

Sephiroth peeks one eye open, but the SOLDIERs by the door have gone quiet, and the ones further down the hall are too far away for him to hear - especially since it sounds like they're whispering out there. Probably explaining the situation to Angeal.

Ahhh! It's a pity he didn't bust a wall open in his deviated craze - he could've used it to escape! He might be about fifty floors above the ground level, but Sephiroth is supposed to know how to fly, right?! He could make it! He might even grow some wings along the way! It's been known to happen! Somewhere!

Angeal appears by the doorway, taking a moment to soak in all the destruction, and Sephiroth does his best not to look like he wants to curl up and die in shame. That resolution gets harder as Angeal walks over to crouch down in front of him.

Oh no, his face. I'm not angry, just disappointed much?!

"Sephiroth," Angeal says gently. "Are you alright?"

Oh, come on, Angeal-bro! The disciples other SOLDIERs are right there! What is he supposed to say, huh?

Sephiroth exhales slowly and tries to think what Sephiroth should say in this situation. He destroyed the training room, busted up all the cameras and everything. Destruction of company property! There's probably going to be consequences for that, huh?

"What's the…?" Sephiroth starts and then winces at his voice. His throat is so dry it stings. Ouch.

Angeal relaxes a little. "They want you outta here, asap. There's a transport waiting. I'm supposed to deliver you to it."

… huh? That's, um. He has no idea! Is he being kicked out? He's Sephiroth - isn't he, like, the poster boy for Shinra's military might and stuff?

Angeal, clearly seeing his confusion, elaborates. "You're reassigned to Wutai, effective immediately."

… Oh. Great. "And if I don't feel like going anywhere?"

Angeal sighs. "I don't know. Nothing good. It's not like I can really force you to do anything, Sephiroth, but I'd prefer it if you came willingly."

Hah, jokes on your, bro, Sephiroth can't actually do shit right now!

… But he can't really stay here. And hell, being sent to a war front at least saves him from having to face any of this just yet! Maybe never. It's a corporate dystopia, and he's the poster boy - maybe Shinra will do him a favour and sweep this all under the rug! They did with Nibelheim.

And Wutai is the closest thing to home…

"... Alright," Sephiroth says. "But you're probably going to have to drag me."

"What? No, Sephiroth, you can just walk, it's alright -"

"Angeal, I -" just had a Qi-deviation and my system feels all outta whack, but that's not a thing and he's Sephiroth - can't admit weakness! "Just - give me a hand."

Angeal blinks and then goes, "Oh!" as Sephiroth visibly wavers, trying to get up. "Oh, a delayed reaction? Right, here -"

Sephiroth really has to be dragged up, like some drunk guy. And even then his knees almost give up! So embarrassing! His cute disciples the other SOLDIERs are watching!

Oh, urg, the nausea…

"If I throw up on you, it's nothing personal," Sephiroth groans, closing his eyes, both to fight back the vertigo and so that he doesn't have to see the other SOLDIERs reaction. No one is laughing at him, at least.

And then Angeal laughs at him. Rude! The man sounds relieved, though, as he grabs him firmly by the elbow, propping him up. "I promise I won't hold it against you."

Sephiroth sighs, humiliated. "Thanks," he mutters and then, plaintively asks, "Do they have chocolate in Wutai?"

"Chocolate?"

"I could really go for a chocolate bar right now."

"Oh, I bet," Angeal says, sounding a little amused now. "I don't know about Wutai, but I'm sure we can get you some chocolate somewhere," he promises. "Are you ready to go?"

No. "Yeah, let's go."

Is it even SY if he doesn't need to be carried once in a while?

#fanfiction #ff7 #ffvii #svsss #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #angeal hewley

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digitaldiarystuff · 9 days

Text

Our Secret Pt.2

sooo i’m starting to write before the poll is over hope the result stays the same lol

also thank you for not giving up on me💕

you can read part one here

————

pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N x Fermin Lopez

summary: you are Pedri’s girlfriend and know his friends, one of them being Fermin. It doesn’t look like he likes you very much but what if he likes you too much?

genre: angst

————

That night after Fermin dropped you at your place you had a weird feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place, you didn’t do anything wrong, you kept reminding yourself. Fermin is literally Pedri’s friend, he was just doing you a favor and you’re mad at Pedri because he left you alone, that’s it.

After taking a much needed shower to clear your thoughts you laid on your bed hoping to sleep quickly but unfortunately, you weren’t that lucky and had trouble falling asleep. You felt upset about Pedri’s behavior at the party and suddenly realized all the other times he made you feel uneasy in public, there were times he didn’t feel comfortable being seen with you because you weren’t official yet and that’s understandable given the fact that he’s insanely famous but a part of you felt like you shouldn’t be hidden no matter what. The more you thought about it, the sadder you felt but finally, you felt your eyes closing.

The next morning you woke up a little late and with a headache, great, you thought. You found your phone in between your sheets and looked at missed notifications secretly hoping to see a good morning text from Pedri but there was something else. An unsaved number texted you at 8.32 am

Hey, good morning! Hope you’re okay and don’t have a headache or stomachache, I think eating McDonald’s that late was a mistake 😅

You immediately realized it was Fermin and your heart warmed with his thoughtful words, he didn’t have to text you or check up on you but still did it while your boyfriend couldn’t even bother asking if you went home okay. It’s not like he was asleep because you knew for a fact he had practice this morning so he had to be up. You decided not to let it get to you and started typing.

Hey thank you so much for everything, I don’t know how I’d survive last night without you! And yes the nuggets definitely were a mistake lol, hope you’re okay too

You reread the text trying to make sure it’s not weird but why would it be weird, it’s just two friends checking up on each other even though you didn’t even know he had your number before today. He could’ve easily got it from Pedri, right?

Fermin didn’t text you back after that and you thought maybe it’s for the best but you also didn’t hear from Pedri until well into the afternoon when he called.

“Hey” he smiled softly like he wasn’t black out drunk last night

“Hey” you said with slight coldness in your voice but you weren’t doing it on purpose.

“Are we still on for tonight?” he asked without even mentioning anything about the previous night’s events and you were kind of taken aback.

“What’s tonight?”

“We have that charity event, remember, I told you a week ago.” you suddenly remembered him asking you to accompany him to this fancy event.

At first you were thrilled with the idea thinking this may be the night you make your relationship official but he quickly shut the idea down by telling you he’d pose for the cameras out front and meet up with you once the auction starts. You were less excited now but still said yes and forgot about it all till now.

“Oh yeah, sure we’re still going. How are you planning on going there?”

“The boys and I were thinking about getting a limo, can you take an Uber and meet me there?”

“Do you not want me in the limo?” you asked shocked by how inconsiderate he was being. First he hides you from the world and now he wants you to step in an Uber with a fancy looking dress and ride there alone.

“No of course not, you can come get ready at mine then. I’ll be at the house by five.”

“You know what, I’ll find my own way Pedri. You don’t have to worry about me, not that you care.” you said and ended the call feeling agitated.

He tried calling you a few more times but you didn’t pick up, you even considered turning your phone off and not showing up but wanted to have a nice night with him, maybe this could solve your issues.

You started getting ready for the event, trying on 2 different dresses. One was an off the shoulder black silk maxi dress and the other was a dark red spaghetti strap maxi dress with a wide slit on the side and a corset as a top. You took mirror selfies with both dresses and sent it to your best friend who was on top of your messages app and started on your makeup as you waited for an answer. Your phone pinged not long after and you picked it up expecting it to be Elena but was shocked to see Fermin’s name on the screen. You remembered saving his number in the morning. He sent you a single text.

Definitely the red one

Your cheeks heat up immediately realizing your mistake, you sent the photos to Fermin instead of Elena because he was the last person you texted.

I’m so sorry, it was meant for someone else lol

You wrote back but made a mental note to wear the red dress, maybe it was that much better. You anxiously waited an answer from Fermin but it never came and you felt stupid, did he think you did it on purpose or was he being the cold and stoic Fermin you know again? You felt like you managed to make him open up more and made progress in your friendship and would hate if he went back to being distant. You thought about what can you text him that would make him answer but before you could find something your phone started ringing.

Fermin Lopez

You picked it up slightly nervous.

“Hey”

“Hey, are you not riding with everyone else to the venue?” he asked straight away without even asking how you were.

“No, um, I’ll go straight from my place so…” you drifted off not knowing how to explain why you weren’t going with your boyfriend.

“Are you ready?”

“Well, I’ll probably be ready in 15.” you looked at yourself in the mirror, you had the dress on and your makeup was almost done.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up then.” he suggested but his voice was so neutral you couldn’t understand any emotion behind it.

“What? Fermin you don’t ha…”

“I’m on my way Y/N. I’ll text you once I’m outside.” he said and hung up before you could even reply.

You stood there for a few moments trying to understand what just happened, why was Fermin this interested in how you’ll arrive at the venue or how you’re doing and more importantly, why wasn’t Pedri?

You decided to push these thoughts away and put on your accessories for the night but was a little too slow because Fermin already texted you before you could put everything on. You told him you need 5 more minutes and he was welcome to wait in your living room whilst you finish up and he soon rang the doorbell.

You opened the door revealing Fermin in a suit, this was the first time you’ve seen him this formal and admittedly, he looked nice. Actually he looked so good that you had to tear your eyes away from him but he didn’t look like he noticed, he was too busy looking at your figure with wide eyes. This may be the longest he’s ever looked your way but once you made proper eye contact, he immediately looked away.

“Hi” you smiled and hugged him softly, kissing one of his cheeks. He smiled at you and placed his hand on your waist careful not to put it too low. It felt more like a fancy first date than two friends carpooling to a charity event where your boyfriend was waiting for you and the thought made your stomach turn. There was something about Fermin that you couldn’t understand, he was never inappropriate or weird with you but you couldn’t help but feel something and that something scared the living shit out of you.

“You look amazing, told you this was the best dress.” he shyly said and your cheeks turned red with his compliment, you knew he preferred this dress but it was also your favorite. You didn’t wear it for him.

“So do you.” you replied and it was his turn to have reddened cheeks. He looked down at his shoes and didn’t look back up until you spoke again.

“Let me put on my shoes and we can go.”

You went into your shoe closet and picked out the nude heels you had in mind. They weren’t too high but still elevated your look. You dropped them in front of your door and tried getting in them but struggled because of your dress hugging your body tightly, Fermin soon noticed your uncomfortable state.

“Here, let me help you” he didn’t even let you reply and kneeled down in front of you to help you step into your shoes and buckle them, he did one foot and lightly tapped your calf for you to hold the other one. His one hand on behind your calf steadied you while the other helped you and you were standing so close that you could feel his breath on your exposed leg which made you shiver. You placed one hand on his shoulder and he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with yet another emotion but this time you knew it wasn’t something like sadness or anger, it was pure lust and you hated that you also had the same look on your face.

He slowly rose to his feet but you didn’t let go of his shoulder, you felt glued to him at that moment. Fermin must have felt the same because he stood so close to you that your noses nearly touched and he made no effort to pull back, you knew better you really did, you should’ve taken a step back thank him for helping you and go to the event but Fermin had other plans.

He suddenly closed the gap between you two and pressed his lips onto yours in a hasty manner like he had to do it, he did it so urgently as if he needed you and you couldn’t help but move your lips with his placing your hand on the back of his neck. Your judgement was too clouded to stop as he walked you back into your living room without breaking the kiss, he only stopped when your back hit the wall and a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Fermin” you mewled as he was moving his hands all around your body and on your exposed leg.

He pulled back slightly, your foreheads still touching and both of you panting. His eyes opened for the first time since he kissed you and looked straight into your soul.

“Fermin” you whispered this time not even sure if you were asking him to stop or carry on.

“Y/N, I want this. I want this so fucking much but if you don’t, I can get out of here now and we can pretend this never happened. I’ll never bother you again.” he softly said and you were surprised at how calm he was talking contrary to how passionate he was being mere seconds ago.

You closed your eyes to try to slow your heartbeat down, your whole body was shaking a little. You tried to think but all you could think about was his lips and hands on you.

You stood there for a moment before leaning in again and he happily accepted your advances telling you to jump and you obliged not caring about anything else in the world other than Fermin. He was making you feel that alive.

“God, you’re perfect” he said while carrying you to your room and kissing every inch of skin he could find.

“Just make me feel good” you begged him and he nodded eagerly. He was going to do just that.

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loviingpedri · 6 months

Text

my declaration of love - jobe bellingham.

prompt: two lovers in high school.

warnings: cursing, angst (fluff at end), grammar issues

jobe was your best friend, there was no denying it. everyone knew that you two were in love, but the idea was always denied in fear. both of your parents were ready for y’all to get married. laughing the awkwardness off, you thought jobe didn’t feel the same. he always gave you mixed feelings. he could be all over your shoulder, then talk to many other girls right after.

you wanted him for the longest. it was burden on your parents seeing you cry over him every time a new girl came into the picture. it even hurt his parents recognizing the pattern of when you came over and when you didn’t. your friendship was too good to be ruined by jobe’s playboy activities.

yet, that was half of jobe’s intentions. he loved you so much, it became unhealthy for him. he had regret for every other girl he even laid eyes on because it just wasn’t you. he was afraid you would never love him back. it pained him seeing your eyes turn sadder when hearing about the new girl he was talking to. truth be told, he tried to get over you through them. no girl would ever hold up to his standard. his standard being you, of course.

the feelings were mutual, but none of you could face it in fear of being rejected.

“jobe, did you do your math homework?”

“sorry, what?” annual study session at the bellingham house, nothing new.

“the math homework, did you do it?” your head was just as confused as his. you wondered what he was thinking of.

“yeah, i did.” taking out his papers. “did you know there’s a party later? we should go.”

“i heard about it. i was debating on asking if you were going. can’t leave without my partner in crime.” you nervously laughed at the cheesy nickname. distracting yourself by copying his answers before seeing his slight smile.

“i mean let’s go. last year, gotta make the most of it.”

“thankfully, i live next door. or else i would not be able to get ready.”

breathing in your dust

this wasn’t your first rodeo, but this was a new memory of a party.

this memory, you weren’t exactly fond on it. jobe stayed with you for the first 15 minutes. he was definitely needed to try and get use to the people. but after those 15 minutes of introduction, he excused himself to the bathroom. then after, said he was going to get drinks. he never came back. you were lucky enough to find some of your friends there. it became suspicious how he just disappeared.

the house was so crowded. you started to get overwhelmed. finally reaching an empty space, you saw a familiar face.

“chris? rigg? i didn’t expect you to be here.”

“oh hey y/n. i’m surprised jobe isn’t with you.” it was true, he was like your personal body guard in public. yet, he decided to leave you alone in a place where you knew almost nobody. “do you want a drink? i poured another cup if anyone else was thirsty. no alcohol, of course.”

“oh yeah, thanks. i was actually looking for jobe. do you know where he is?”

“i think i saw him walk into the kitchen when i left.” giving chris a quick nod and smile, you tried to find the way to the kitchen. leaving the room was two boys who were wearing sunderland jerseys laughing with an o-shaped mouth. with specific intention to make eye contact with you.

walking into the room in curiosity, you had instant regret. there jobe was. making out with another girl. someone who looked the exact opposite of you actually. your best friend goes missing for an entire hour that he invited you to, and is now making out with someone he just met.

jobe use to only tell you who the girls he was talking to and how they were like. it still made you feel pain. this time was different. he was physically causing you to hurt. it hurt like being stabbed in the stomach. he demonstrated how he felt without you. he felt connected to other girls in way you wanted him to feel for you.

he didn’t realize you were there either. fighting your tears back. accidentally, the cup given to you fell to the ground. the red juice flowing everywhere. the noise made jobe notice you. everything seemed to be going in slow motion. from him looking at you in shock. seeing your emotions flash in confusion. how you walked away into the groups of people. he tried to catch up to you. panic was running through his head. he felt lightheaded. he started sweating.

his intention was to lose feelings for you. he didn’t think about how he could’ve lost you entirely in his life. running to where the car was, it was gone since you had the car keys. he could worry about finding a ride home later. the only thing that mattered to him was getting the love of his life back before it was too late.

once again, your mother’s heart broke into pieces as your makeup was ruined. mascara always running down your cheeks for the one and only, jobe bellingham.

this time, it was much more emotional. you didn’t wanna hide your feelings anymore. it was taking over your health and made it worse day by day.

being in your comfortable pajamas and finally laying down after your hard time was comforting. hearing your mom talk to denise about what happened. hearing a few words about jobe. everything hurt. it felt like a stab straight through your heart.

finally learning your lesson. just because you gave someone effort, doesn’t always mean they have to return it back to you.

you reflected on everything you did for jobe. you did anything just for him to like you back. was it all for nothing? it was hard to think. your eyes were dry and sore from crying. the only thing that stopped the pain was closing your eyes and bringing peace to yourself.

waking up by hugs and kisses from your parents was the only thing you ever needed. you adored your parents. it just felt empty without jobe having something planned for the day. it was rare that you even ate breakfast with them.

“i talked to denise yesterday,” it was bound that the topic of him would be brought up. your mom trying to ease you up before trying to get you to talk about it. “jobe isn’t doing well. i mean, your health also isn’t okay either. but, y/n maybe you should try and hear him out.”

“i don’t think i can. i was way too obvious on how i felt about him. he just pushed me aside.”

“relationships are definitely different in this generation. are you ever gonna talk to him?” your father being protective over you and boys, yet jobe was welcomed with open arms.

“this just happened yesterday. i’m still trying to process my feelings.”

“well denise said-“ the doorbell rang. the whole family looking at each other in confusion. you weren’t expecting anybody, nor any packages. opening the door, you saw your first love with a bouquet of flowers and very sore eyes.

“y/n. good morning. sorry if i caught you at the wrong time. i just came here to talk to you.”

“about what?” you didn’t want to come off as rude, but it was definitely wrong timing as you’re in red pajama pants and a winnie the pooh t-shirt.

“i want to apologize for what happened yesterday. i know i dragged you to the party, then i completely left you with people you did not know. it was selfish of me to do that. and to add on, you saw me doing something i should’ve never did. it gave you a bad idea of me. i finally want to admit that i have feelings for you. i was scared that you would never feel the same. i tried constantly to get over you. nobody will ever match up to our friendship, our relationship. i never realized that it hurt me more to lose you completely then just having a little inconvenience in our friendship. y/n, you are the only i want. i just wanna be yours.”

no words need to be said. your eyes spoke for him. instantly connecting your bodies in a hug, his body warmth will always be your serenity.

“jobe, i will always be yours.”

#football x reader #football fanfic #football imagine #spotify #jobe bellingham #jobe bellingham x reader #jobe bellingham x yn #jobe bellingham fanfic #jobe bellingham imagine #jobe bellingham x you #jude bellingham

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

Playing Pretend (Part 2)

Drinks before dinner get uncomfortable- and exciting- quickly.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.1k words

Warnings: Language, alcohol, a smidge of angst because that's what happens when your sister marries your ex

Series Masterlist

“I thought the big fancy dinner was tomorrow,” Roy mumbled as he pulled a dress shirt out of his suitcase and held it up to check for wrinkles.

After settling into the room you’d be sharing for the weekend, the two of you had spent about an hour laying on the bed next to each other and reading the books you’d each brought before you informed him that it was time to get ready for dinner.

“Oh, it is,” you agreed, pulling out a dress from your own luggage. “Tonight’s just family. My parents and sisters, Jim’s parents.” You paused, looking up at Roy. “You, apparently.”

Roy rolled his eyes and tugged off the Richmond sweater he’d worn on the drive. You blushed, averting your eyes from his wooly chest to focus on the dress in your hands. “Fucking rich people,” he muttered.

A scoff escaped your lips. “Roy, you’re rich,” you reminded him. “You drive a car that costs more than I make in a year.”

“Hey, you told me you like that car.” He buttoned up his shirt and posed. “How do I look?”

You couldn’t help but melt a little as you looked at him in his black dress shirt and equally black jeans. “Perfect.” Realizing you’d been staring for a moment too long, you tightened your grip on your dress. “Be right back.” You stepped into the bathroom attached to the room you’d be sharing with Roy- something you tried not to think too hard about- and changed into the dress. Frustration crossed your mind when you realized you couldn’t quite reach the zipper. “Roy!” you called.

“What?” came his gruff voice.

You poked your head back into the bedroom. “Can you help me with the zipper?”

An expression you couldn’t quite read crossed his face. “Can’t you, I dunno, go ask your mum or your sister to help you?”

“Come on, Roy.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. This is a boyfriend job. How would it look if I go ask my mum to help me with my dress when you’re right there?”

“Fine, fine.” He crossed the room and spun you around, so your back was to him. You were sure you were imagining the shaky breath he let out and the trembling you felt as he slowly zipped up your dress. Roy had no reason to be nervous; you were just the silly kid who used to beg him to play Barbies with you and his sister.

But still, the domesticity of the moment made your heart sing a little.

“Thank you,” you hummed. You slipped on your shoes and gave a little spin. “Now, how do I look?”

His face went all soft, your favorite look in the world. “Perfect.” He held out his hand. “Ready?”

With a deep breath, you took his hand, not sure if you were more anxious about the first event of the weekend or the simple act of holding Roy Kent’s hand. Maybe a bit of both.

The walk to the drawing room felt weirdly familiar; you’d been here many times with Jim, for weddings and anniversaries and birthdays and holidays and just-for-fun. A sad part of you wondered how many times Lauren had been here. An even sadder part of you realized that she was probably sleeping in the same room you used to sleep in.

As if he could feel the sudden pang in your heart, Roy gave your hand a squeeze.

“I’m probably going to repeat myself all fucking weekend,” he whispered, “but I’m right here. I’ve got you. Don’t you fucking forget that.”

Some of the sharp pain in your chest evaporated as you squeezed back. “I know, Roy.”

“Roy! Darling!”

As soon as you stepped into the drawing room, you mother made a beeline for the two of you, throwing her arms around Roy. Your dad followed behind, eyebrows slightly raised as he gave you a small hug and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Hello,” Roy said, genuine cheer in his voice as your mother released him. He shook your dad’s hand warmly. “Hope I’m not intruding on the weekend.”

Your mum shook her head “Absolutely not. You’re always welcome with us, you know that, dear. Especially-” She shot you a look. “-if what we hear about you and our little duckling is true?”

Roy wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to himself. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that’s grand,” you dad assured him. “Always had a good feeling about the two of you.” He gestured towards the room. “Come on in, we’re doing the whole cocktails before dinner thing.” Your dad wrinkled his nose at you; even when you dated Jim, he was always uncomfortable with how posh Jim’s family was. However, he never said no to the chance to drink good alcohol, as evidenced by the glass in his hand.

Roy guided you to one of the elegant couches, tenderly placing a hand on your knee once you were seated beside him. Despite your agony surrounding this weekend, part of you hoped it would never end, if only so you could always have all this attention and affection from Roy.

As if determined to ruin any bit of happiness you got this dreadful weekend, your sister and Jim appeared, drinks in hand. Lauren had that plastic smile you knew she’d be wearing for the next three days.

“You two get that alone time?” she teased, shooting you a mocking wink.

You just smiled and leaned closer to Roy, treating him like the lifesaver he was. He planted a soft kiss in your hair that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Lauren,” he hummed, raising those thick eyebrows that you loved.

“Fathers prefer no kissing,” your dad chimed in with a dry chuckle. “But I can make an exception for Roy.”

Roy’s smile widened. “Appreciate it,” he laughed. He loved the way your dad treated him; even when you dated Jim, your dad treated Roy like a son. His sister had even confided in him that it was a point of contention in your relationship, what with your dad never being as warm with Jim.

Gripping his drink rather tightly, Jim gestured between the two of you. “Alright, so I got interrupted earlier. How’d this happen?”

Shit. You’d forgotten to get your story straight with Roy. The two of you had spent the whole drive up chatting about childhood memories, movies you wanted to show each other, stories from work, and even one enthusiastic duet of You Belong With Me when it came on the road trip playlist you’d had blasting from your phone. It hadn’t occurred to you to make sure the two of you knew what to say when everyone inevitably wanted to know about your “relationship”.

You prayed only Roy could see the panic in your eyes as you looked up at him. “D’you want to tell the story?” you offered.

He didn’t skip a beat. “Well, about what, two months ago, babe?” He looked down at you, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “We were hanging out, and my sister had canceled so it was just us. I took over kebabs, and we were watching His Girl Friday, this one’s favorite.”

Everything he’d said so far was true; the three of you were supposed to hang out, but Roy’s sister had backed out at the last second, so Roy came over anyway. And he’d claimed not to care what movie you watched, so you put on an old Cary Grant movie that you’d seen a million times (and Roy had been forced to watch about half a million times). It had been a perfect night, sitting next to Roy while Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell danced around their feelings before finally coming together.

Roy continued, “And I looked over and saw just how absolutely beautiful she looked, with the light from the television glowing on her face and that dreamy expression she gets when she watches old movies.” He looked down, all bashfulness, before turning his gaze to you. You were amazed by his acting. “And I just fucking asked if I could kiss her, and she said yes. So, I leaned over and…”

It was the kiss you’d waited your whole life for. His hand came up to tenderly lift your chin, tilting your face to his. His barely parted lips were soft, gentle, his beard just barely tickling your skin. Every daydream you’d ever had about Roy Kent was nothing compared to the tiny kiss that ended far too soon.

Bashfulness reappeared on Roy’s face as he cleared his throat, remembering all the eyes on the two of you. “Sorry about that,” he chuckled. “We’re still in that lovey-dovey phase where we can’t keep our hands off each other and make everyone around us want to get violently ill.” His eyes focused icily on Jim. “You remember that, don’t you Jim?

Jim nearly choked on his drink.

“With Lauren,” Roy clarified, nodding towards your sister, whose face was twisted in annoyance. “How’d you two kids meet anyway?”

“Why don’t I get you a drink, Roy?” Jim offered quickly, his face void of all color. “Beer?”

Roy’s hand was back on your knee, gripping it a bit tighter now. “Whiskey. Neat.” He turned to you, his face softening. “And you?”

Jim shook his head. “I remember,” he assured you, shoving his own drink into Lauren’s hand and heading to the small bar off to one side of the room, the bar you remembered experimenting behind with Jim and his cousins once the older folks had gone to bed. You could still taste the disgusting combinations Jim had concocted for you to try. You could still hear the laughter that had filled the room as everyone took shots. You could still feel the sloppy kisses that tasted of expensive alcohol.

Sensing the tension oozing off of you, your parents excused themselves to go talk to Jim’s parents; they didn’t exactly need introductions, considering how many times they’d met while you were dating Jim.

Always perfect in her timing, your older sister, Jen, strolled into the room, shaking you out of your wistful reminiscing. She lit up when she saw the two of you and made a beeline for you, her husband, Paul, in tow.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? And there? And every-fucking-where?” she teased.

Roy laughed and stood, wrapping his arms around your older sister. “Hello, Jenny.” He turned his attention to your brother-in-law. “Paul, how the hell are you man?”

Paul shook Roy’s hand enthusiastically, the way he always did. “Great. Clearly you’re doing quite well yourself.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “I owe your dad forty quid. I had figured the two of you’d be dancing around this thing for the rest of your lives.”

“Paul!” you gasped, smacking your brother-in-law’s arm playfully. Behind closed doors, he loved to tease you about your painfully obvious attraction to Roy.

“I knew you two’d get together eventually,” Jen bragged, giving you a squeeze before you resumed your seats. “I mean, come on, we all could see the way you look at each other. Someone was bound to crack eventually.”

You let out a weak chuckle and leaned close to Roy, whose arm rested casually around your shoulders. Lauren watched you, eyes narrowed, as Jim returned. His hand shook slightly as he handed you your usual drink, the one he’d heard you order a million times. He handed Roy his whiskey and returned obediently to Lauren’s side, taking his own glass from her hand and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“We better go make sure things are ready for dinner,” Lauren hummed, grabbing Jim’s hand and pulling him out of the drawing room. You couldn’t help but notice Jim’s gaze lingering on you; neither could Roy, whose arm tightened around you.

Paul let out a low whistle. “This is going to be a tense weekend,” he muttered, raising his eyebrows at the two of you. He turned to Jen. “We should start taking bets about when this one and Jim come to blows, eh?”

Roy let out a dry chuckle and sipped his drink, relaxing slightly. “We wouldn’t want me making Lauren a widow before she’s even married, would we?”

“Play nice,” you warned him playfully, poking his nose. Fake-dating Roy felt deliciously natural. At least, when Jim and Lauren weren’t around.

“Yes, dear.” Roy’s voice was light and teasing. He leaned forward and kissed your lips again, a smidge deeper this time. The taste of his whiskey sent your head spinning. “Whatever you say.”

#roy kent playing pretend #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

Text

it’s ending a day after it originally began

i don’t want it to end.

it’s going to be so dramatic!

Martyn stares at the closed curtains in front of him. It’s intermission. Outside, the audience is mulling about, talking, theorizing. Here, on the inside, Scott is muttering to a campfire. He looks slightly to the left, like he can’t see the curtains at all.

i think it’s not fair. it’s a bunch of the same people who always win. you had better backstab scott before he wins a second time. it would be boring otherwise.

that would be so sad :( no they should stand together at the end.

god i hate how overdramatic everyone is. just do some killing and get over yourselves.

what if no one killed each other? would that be fucked up or what?

you could just kill yourself. that would be fun.

yeah. listen to us!

Martyn twitches. Scott mutters at the sputtering campfire. Martyn watches the curtains. They’re stained with blood. The stagehands had stopped bothering cleaning them; the curtains are red anyway, so who cares?

Blood dries brown, though.

you should talk to scott. he seems sad.

you should kiss.

make him sadder!

no i don’t like being sad.

what are you doing here then?

we want drama!

they all seem so sad though.

oh, it’s delicious how sad they are!

drama!

yeah, give us something good!

i still want you to kiss. majorwood ftw.

“What is it with you all and kissing?” Martyn says, exasperated.

“What? Martyn?” Scott says, looking up.

“It’s nothing. Go back to cooking salmon.”

you’re so boring.

yeah next time we won’t watch you if you’re like this.

our will be done.

no show without an audience.

now kiss him!

no stop that’s so rude and gross of you

imagine being that guy

yeah imagine having morals

it’s sadder if they kiss.

platonic relationships can be sad too!

Great. Now they’re arguing. Martyn sighs and turns away from the curtains. They’re closed anyway. It’s intermission. None of this actually matters. None of this will change the end of the show. Listen or decide not to listen, the show will go how it goes. The clock ticks down on the players.

He’ll act his heart out. The audience will eat it up. There’s not really another option.

i hate all the conflict. this isn’t fair.

kill him, martyn. betray him. show us a surprise ending. win.

“It would be easier if you decided what you wanted,” Martyn says.

“Okay, I know you aren’t talking to me,” Scott says.

it all ends tomorrow.

i don’t want it to end.

i want it to keep going. the drama’s barely started.

yeah. when will they kill each other again?

next time, there should be less mercy.

next time maybe they’ll just be friends?

hah! who wants that?

“Nah. Talking to. You know. Them.” Martyn gestures at the curtain.

Scott raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, it’s hard to hear them if you aren’t Listening.”

good joke

oooh lore lore lore

“…now I’m even more confused.”

“Ehh, don’t worry about it. It won’t matter soon enough anyway.”

“That’s… ominous.”

“Yeah, well.”

Martyn stains at the bloodstained curtains. He hears the orchestra warming up.

no matter what. as long as whatever he does is a good show.

true. put on a spectacle.

everyone loves a good drama.

OUR WILL BE DONE.

“Some things are just ominous I think.”

Scott returns to his campfire. Martyn takes his headband off his head and uses it instead to cover his ears. It doesn’t help a lot, but it helps a little.

Tomorrow, huh?

Well. Better to make it count, then.

#a bee fic #limited life smp #martyn inthelittlewood #the watchers #in which I make the watchers basically just chat.#good luck out there tomorrow o7

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staarri · 26 days

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HIIII, how are you? I hope everything goes well <33 I would like to order gaming x reader, maybe as an accidental kissing session? If it's not too much trouble, thank you very much for reading <33

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬

— characters : ga ming

— character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, not really an accidental kiss… it had a purpose, mutual pining, this is a work of fiction

fluff , accidental kiss , modern!au . word count : 1.1k

hi there lovely! i changed this up a bit since i couldnt figure out what to write. i hope you dont mind! very extra special tag for @aventurne !!

The movie ends in such a bittersweet way. The protagonist lives her life as a teacher and her sister marries the boy she once loved the most. She looked back at her life in such a happy way now that she also had someone for her. You sniffle, bringing a tissue to your eyes. Your friend looks at you, eyes filled with worry.

“Are you okay?” He asks, hesitantly bringing his hand to your cheek and wiping away any kind of remaining trail the tear left. You two had planned a little movie date. If you could even call it that–You did it as friends anyway. Yet you never expected the movie you chose to be this… This devastating.

“Mhm–” You sniffle again, cheeks puffing up. You start fanning your face to try and stop crying, but the more you think about it the sadder you get. “That was just. Wow, like I didn’t expect it at all.”

He giggles, laying back comfortably on his seat. He nods, yeah.

“Think that’ll happen to me too?” You’ve always believed love would never work out the way you wanted it to. For you, of course. I mean, your friends are all in happy relationships–marriages for some and you’re stuck at this golden age, single.

“With the amount of unrequited love stories you’ve watched? At this point, I’m starting to believe it will.” Ga ming teases you.

“That hurt a little, `ming.” Crossing your arms pretending to be upset.

“Oh–Oh I'm sorry,” He says sarcastically, laughing. “Let’s not forget what happened with La La Land.”

“Whatever! I doubt you’ll be getting a partner in the near future anyway; So we're in the same boat.”

He grins, “Really now?”

You nod frantically. Going on a short rant about how his personality is so explosive it causes the other people’s social battery to die out immediately, or how he’s so active all the time you never get a break from all the activities you guys do. Or how his smile is so captivating, maybe how his face is so bewitching.

“Don’t know. All I'm hearing is you like me so much it's killing you.”

“I do not!”

“Sure.”

Yeah. Maybe you do like him. A lot, maybe a bit more. He’s cast a spell on your heart and you can’t undo it–It’s a curse and a blessing all at the same time. What if you like your best friend? It’s not like he felt the same way anyway. Well he might, with the mixed signals he’s been giving you. But he’s nice to everyone–He’s like that to everyone. And it has always been like that from the very start.

He looks at you in a way that squeezes and twists at your chest; He smiles at you in a way that causes all the butterflies to fly from its cage in your stomach and you feel so lightheaded when you two laugh together. You’re lost in the way he’s so caring, and it makes you feel sick and selfish wanting him for all yourself.

But that's just how you feel. For all you know–He might just be leading you on, and you’ll find out once you admit your feelings to him right now at this moment.

It's so difficult not to blurt it out. The love from your heart is escaping and taking this tension between you as its new home. You just look at him as he takes in the surroundings of your venue, with the warm fairy lights emitting a glow that makes him look more ethereal by the moment, and with the couch that has his hair all fluffed up. But it’s just now that you notice how bright his eyes look, how the shine compliments the red hues so perfectly. Just now that you see the little fangs on his teeth and how his face scrunches up so right whenever he smiles widely. You wonder how he’ll look when you two grow old, how much will change within those years.

You can’t be his, it’ll ruin you in more ways than one.

“You’re awfully quiet, was the movie that bad?” His concern is enough to melt the walls you’ve worked too hard to build around your heart. He will ruin your inner peace, is it weird that you would let him?

You don’t dare answer.

“Hey, look at me.”

He brings his hands to your cheeks, making you face him. You feel stupid in love, it's like you just can’t get enough air to your lungs because even that is filled with the scent of him.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

His eyes wander from your lips to your own eyes, looking for any kind of sign that you don't feel good. You place your hand on top of his and gently press your cheek against him more. You warned yourself, this is a bad idea. But you never listen, not once.

Now he’s kissing you in a way that’s going to screw you up forever.

It’s soft, the way he handles you so gently. As if you’re some kind of porcelain that’s a little too fragile. You’re regretting everything that brought you to this moment but you’re not complaining one bit.

And it was short-lived. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was a peck on the lips. He was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way, because somehow maybe you didn’t fall in love with your best friend who you’ve had multiple dimsums with. The friend that held you in your darkest moments and the friend who wished for all your partners to somehow quit playing with your feelings so he could be the one to be there for you instead.

Oh god, you were inlove. And so was he–and maybe even more than you.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” He stammered. Cheeks red and yours the same. You two were affected under the same spell you put on each other. “I swear–You just looked too pretty. I couldn't help it.”

It feels like you’ve just discovered love. Like you were the only one to know how it feels to be in love with someone. The tension is gone and all you’re feeling is pure adoration from him, from the way he stares at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

Someday, this will end. But for now? You’ll be treasuring the moment in a way you’re sure no one else has.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

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