#except for her instead of being opposites it's what she Could Be | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nonexistent-introvert · 10 months

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Alternate Reminder

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: Miguel has trouble trying to treat you fairly when you remind him too much of what he had lost. Angst, misunderstanding.

A/N: I havent truly proofread this so I'm sorry. This took super long.

Part 2

Miguel thought you were special. He thought it was maybe the universe giving him a second chance when he saw you. His first love and his beautiful wife, standing in front of him while wearing a Spiderman suit. Maybe, he was destined to be with you, after all, a universe where you could understand him. A universe where he could finally be happy with you and Gabriella, a universe that he actually belonged to and he didn’t have to worry about destroying a whole universe just to be with you.

The only problem? This version of you had zero ideas of who Miguel O’Hara is. Miguel thought it was a canon event, for the both of you to fall in love. In most universes he had been to, you were with Miguel. In most, you were happy and had a family with him. In the more unfortunate universes, things didn’t work out between the two of you. The only thing that was unchanged was that Miguel and you were bound to find and fall in love with each other at one point.

However, Miguel hated your guts. His amor was sweet, responsible, and well-organized. You were the complete opposite of that. You were rude, irresponsible, and very messy as a person. He dared say that you were the messiest person he had ever met. There was no sign of organisation at your workstation. Papers were messily stacked on top of each other or swept across the desk. The mini shelf you had beside your desk was filled with books that were all falling to one side, some had completely collapsed. More files were squeezed on top of the books. Miguel’s greatest pet peeve was seeing the bent and folded pages being shoved into a file. The urge to help you reorganize was almost too big for him to handle causing the frustration to build up and was let out onto you instead. Miguel groaned as he met eye contact with you while he was buying his morning coffee. It was almost insulting to him how you had the same exact face as her, the woman he falls for in every universe.

On the opposite side of the same coin, you loathed Miguel O’Hara. He was bossy, pompous, and couldn’t take a single joke. Any conversation you have had with him ended up in the both of you arguing. Sarcasm was something everyone around you had gotten used to, except for Miguel of course who never seemed to catch on. He would simply give you a judgemental stare before giving a literal answer which you would roll your eyes at. At that point, Miguel would think that you’re being rude, and depending on his mood that day, he would either scold you or scoff at you.

“Just get over it, you’re always mad at Miguel anyways. I thought you would get used to it by now.” Gwen sighed, giving you the same response every time you ranted about Miguel. “It’s not like you don’t know the big guy,” Hobie said nonchalantly, having long gotten used to your rants about Miguel. “You hate him, we get it.” Pavitr groaned, complaining for the umpteenth time about how you always seemed to be talking about Miguel. Gwen chuckled, “If you didn’t point out every single flaw of his so heartlessly every time you rant about him, I would think you have a crush on Miguel or something.” Gwen said. “Hell no. I’m not fucking blind.” you defended, offended she would even think this way. “You gotta admit, big boss is quite the looker, too bad he’s a prick.” Hobie pointed out. “Speak of the devil,” Pavitr warned, straightening up as he stared at Miguel who was walking to your table’s direction.

You merely glared in his direction. Gwen was right, you should be used to him by now. He shouldn’t be getting under your skin so easily. So why can’t you just ignore him? Why does your mind always drift to him when you’re alone, why do you realise when he was due for a haircut? How his hair curls at the end when he lets his hair grow, how he reaches 10 minutes early to any appointment, and how he would get his coffee at exactly 9am in the morning. You shook your head, riding yourself off those thoughts. There was no way you actually had some sort of attraction to him right? Your mind drifted to the fight you had with him 5 days ago, his words still causing a dull ache in your heart. The both of you always fought but you were sure Miguel was going to kick you off the team until he called your friends the next day and gave you a mission through them while also completely disregarding your presence if he saw you around after.

===================

“Mind your own business!” Miguel exclaimed, you flinched at his harsh tone. “I was just-” “Who said you could touch my property?” Anger was practically the only emotion in his voice as he pushed you to the side. “Lyla told me you were having some troubles, that your screens had some kind of issue-” You gritted out, closing your eyes to calm yourself too. You only had good intentions to fix the issues he was fixing and now you were being accused of invading his privacy. You couldn't even remember any of the files that appeared on the screen while you were fixing his terrible code. Too focused on solving the technical errors to be poking your nose into his business. “I don’t need your help,” He seethed. “She was going to help you, Miguel. You have been complaining about it and even I can’t help you, you very well know she’s the only one equipped with the knowledge to fix this.” Lyla defended you. The fury in Miguel’s eyes scared you as well, “You need to mind your own business as well.” He snarled to Lyla before turning to you, switching off the orange screens completely. “I would rather let everything burn to hell than trust you to fix anything. You’re a fucking mess if you didn’t realize. ” Miguel spat.

It was your last straw. You had more self-respect than let anyone speak to you like that. “Kick me off, fucking kick me off already. You hate me anyways, right? So why do you bother keeping me around?”

“Get out!” Miguel bellowed and you didn’t need him to repeat himself. You took off the watch on your wrist and threw it to the floor, letting it break into pieces. In that moment, his words hurt you more than glitching ever would.

============

Peter found you at a bar in your universe that day. You downed another glass of whiskey at the sight of Peter, you were in too bad of a mood to talk to anyone now and you know you would regret it if you lashed out at him.

Peter didn’t say anything, simply sitting beside you and staring as you downed one glass after another.

Peter ordered a drink, taking sips of his drink as he decided on the best approach to talk to you. Your anger was practically radiating off you, making everyone else stir clear of you.

“He’s all bark no bite.” Peter started. You scoffed lightly, letting the silence fall between the both of you. You turned to peter, feeling bad for putting him in an uncomfortable situation. “You heard already huh.” Peter simply shrugged, “Word travels fast. Practically the whole society knows.” You downed another glass at that, you wondered how much the story had changed as it was passed from one person to another. It was probably a field day at headquarters.

“There is barely anyone at headquarters, Miguel has been bringing hell to anyone he even makes eye contact with,” Peter answered as though he could read your thoughts. You had to bite back your words, to tell Peter that you really couldn’t care less about Miguel now nor did you need the company. Silence fell between the both of you, Peter lightly bobs his head to the music that was playing in the bar to relieve the tension that was building up. He was never one for tense situations. “You know, you’re not really that different from Miguel.” Peter immediately put his hands up in defense when you practically growled at his comment. “Well, it’s just that both of you would rather die than talk about your emotions. Thankfully, I managed to crack Miguel so I think I can do it for you too.” Peter confidently stated. You remained silent, swirling the whiskey in your hand. You didn’t trust yourself to not lash out at Peter, especially when he’s practically comparing you to Miguel. The man you hated in all of the multiverse

“Hm, silence. Miguel screamed at me when we reached this point.” Peter observed, laughing nervously at the memory of his talk with Miguel. “I guess I’ll just go on first then.” Peter wrung his hands nervously. “I’m sure Miguel didn’t mean anything. You just hit a sore spot.” You scoffed again, “What? By trying to fix his stupid system?”

Peter took another swig, he definitely needed the alcohol. “Do you not know about what is on those screens? One that probably popped up while you were fixing it.” “Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t snooping on him. I was focused on the system itself.” You defended. Peter cringed ever so slightly at your response. “There is this girl on the screen, the one with a happier, better-looking Miguel.” Peter took another swig, this really wasn’t his story to tell. You pursed your lips, you did remember seeing the footage that Peter mentioned. You had to force yourself to look away, that you were invading his privacy.

“That’s his daughter.” Peter finished, trying to gauge your reaction. You simply preserved a blank look and Peter groaned slightly, he detested how stubborn you were. “Miguel found a universe where he had a family and was happy, but him in that universe had an accident so he replaced himself. Some butterfly effect happened and the whole universe collapsed on itself and he lost everything.” Peter explained. You finished your drink, everyone has lost someone. You understood why it was a sore spot but it doesn’t justify being a total asshole.

“Miguel didn’t mean anything he said to you. It was just- tough.” Peter finished. “I didn’t even do shit Peter, just decided to fix his system and he accused me of invading his fucking privacy. It’s not like he’s the only one who lost someone. We all did.” Peter shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “He just fucking hates my guts and I don’t know why? He literally told most people about my past when he explains about anomalies so why is he so mad when I know about it?”

“Because you have the same name and face as his wife, the woman who he falls for in every universe.” Your jaw dropped at the information. You couldn’t ever fathom the thought of you and Miguel even being in love. The anger in you simmered ever so slightly. It would explain how his features softened when he sees you sometimes, the vulnerable look in his eyes when he stares at you for too long. A stranger with memories, that is what you are to Miguel. Miguel tries his best to treat you like others. It was exceptionally tough when you shared the same name and face as the woman he had spent his happiest moments with. “He never told me,” you told Peter. Peter shook his head, “No one was allowed to tell you. Not like many people knew anyways. He didn’t want to stir up any unnecessary trouble. You know how he is, he doesn’t like it when people try to share his burdens.” You pursed your lips, cursing out your alcohol tolerance. It was times like this you wished you could just forget everything. “It doesn’t matter. Miguel probably wants me out of his life.” Peter threw his hands up frustratedly. “If he wants you out he wouldn’t send me here to tell you about everything.” Peter admitted. Peter was worried when he heard the news of you and Miguel having a fight which is what brought him to talk to Miguel. Peter wouldn’t be able to find you by himself, only Miguel could. You closed your eyes, you had enough of everyone. You were so exhausted, everything has been so draining.

“Just leave me alone alright?” You said, stumbling out of your seat slightly before leaving the bar and Peter behind.

======================================

“The anomaly was caught. We ensured there were no loose ends. Everything should be fine.” You reported to Miguel. Your hands were behind your back, there was a blank look on your face. Miguel bit his lip slightly at your cold demeanor toward him. He used to complain about you taking things too lightly. When you would stroll into his office with a grin, confidently telling him all the details of the mission even if it was insignificant. Now, you told him the bare minimum with a professional tone and stand.

Miguel used to complain and bluntly tell you that he didn't care for some of the details you told him after. Details like you and Gwen dropped by a Mcdonald's to grab some fries or that you also managed to finish a recent show. Now he wishes you would tell him, instead of you acting like this., all quiet and serious. Miguel took a deep breath, staring at you as the platform descended. He looked away slightly, knowing things were still tense between the two of you. “Sorry about that the other day. I was not in the right place.” He apologised, forcing himself to meet your eye. Your expression was still blank, “It’s fine.” You brushed it off like you hadn’t been thinking about it ever since. “If that’s everything, I’ll take my leave now.” You told him, bowing slightly as you turned. Miguel flinched at the tone. “Wait.” He wanted to stop you from leaving. Then his head turned to the orange screens behind him that glitched every so often. “Would you-” Miguel hesitated, thinking if this was the best move.”

“I- can you help me fix the screens?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “I promise I won’t lash out at you.” Miguel weakly joked. You simply nodded, stepping up onto his platform. Miguel stared at you, you were so unlike yourself. There were no teasing comments, no laughter, not even a hint of a smile. You stood in front of his screens, diligently and skillfully opening and typing away a new code. Miguel shifted and fidgeted behind you, he was wrecking his mind for a conversation topic. You were the one who usually initiated or continued the conversations. His mind replaying all the conversations he had with you. A smile tugged on his lips, music was your common ground with him. He remembered how your eyes twinkled when you talked about your favorite songs.

“I recently got into classical music.” Miguel shared. Miguel was half-convinced that he wouldn’t get a reply when you let his words hang in the air while you focused on the task at hand. “Oh? Mahler?’ You finally replied. His eyes widened. “How did you know?” He was greeted with silence again and only then did he appreciate how quick your responses used to be. “I just want to know, because you seemed really confident about it. Did I tell you?” Miguel filled the silence himself. “I just saw it.” You gestured to the screens. He nodded, letting the tense silence take over again. You were never so quiet, he never had to deal with this uncomfortable silence when he was with you.

“You changed.” Miguel blurted out. There was no response from you as you continued working on the screens. You didn’t know how to respond either. The news about you being an alternate version of his wife, it was rather overwhelming. You used to spite him and annoy him just for the fun of it, but after everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it anymore. His gaze made you self-conscious now, of what he thought of you, and nor did you want a repeat of what happened that day. You did a lot of thinking the past few days and you had to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t hate Miguel O’Hara. You couldn’t hate him. The thought of him hating you, it was terrifying.

“What?” You muttered, Miguel barely caught onto your response. He placed his hands on his hips, looking down. “Look, I’m really sorry for that day and I know I can’t take back anything but I really hope you don’t distance yourself from me because of that.” Miguel swallowed, it was publicly known that the both of you never seemed to get along but the thought of you becoming cold to him made him shiver to his core. “You’re overthinking things.” You stated plainly, forcing out a laugh. Miguel sighed, “You just seem, very different. Let’s not even talk about our interactions. You have just been more distant with everyone, you’re taking things way too seriously and well, you’re a lot more well organised now. The biggest shame was losing the constant smile, boosted many of their morale even in the most difficult of times.” you swallowed bitterly, debating internally if you should snap at Miguel right now while you stared at the screens before you. “I had to work on not being a mess right?” You answered, quoting his exact words. Miguel’s eyes flashed with a hint of pain and you knew it was a low blow. He had already apologised, you’re the one who keeps bringing it up. But those words haunted you even till now.

“You really changed huh?” Miguel continued. He didn’t expect you to use his words against him. When you know that he regrets it, it was a low move even for you. “It’s done.” You announced, ignoring his comment towards you. Your patience was thinning again. He merely glanced towards the screens before looking at you again. “You’re not the person I knew,” Miguel stated plainly. You turned your head to him.

“I’m not the woman you had in mind, Miguel! I’m not your fucking wife and I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You looked away, running your hands through your hair in distress. “I never was. I’m sorry I remind you of her but I’m not her.” You snapped at him. Walking out of his office. Everything made sense now. Miguel would be annoyed and frustrated with you most times, but there were times that he acted differently towards you. The times when he had carried you to a more comfortable place when you had fallen asleep on your table, the jackets that he had given to you to keep you warm still hung in your closet. The late-night conversations where he was more vulnerable towards you and had conversations with you about your interests while you hung from the ceiling, claiming that it helped you stay awake while you sift through the paperwork with him. You found it weird how he could hate your guts one second but be even sweet to you when it was just the two of you. At one point, you even thought you had fallen for Miguel O’Hara.

You shook your head, ignoring Miguel behind you as you rid the thought of even entertaining a possibility with Miguel. He never treated you as you are, he never liked you for who you are.

You simply shared a face and name with the woman he was destined to fall for.

You chuckle at how foolish you were while you stepped on the watch that Peter had given to you as replacement for your old one.

“I fucking quit.” You announced to a surveillance camera in the hallway, knowing fully well that he is monitoring the camera for your whereabouts now.

Miguel angrily swept the files off his table, growling out in frustration. He buried his face in his hands, he never saw you as the woman who he had fallen for and had Gabriella with. Sure, there were a few times your identical looks made his heart pace with what could have been. However, Miguel had started spending more time with you and getting to know you as a person. In those times, he reckoned he enjoyed it too much.

There was no way he was falling for you right?

Was there a point even if he did? You had already left him.

Miguel O'Hara always messes up his own happiness. That seems more like his canon event than falling in love with you.

#miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider-man #into the spider verse #spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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alastxrs · 2 months

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hii! how are u?? having a nice day? hope I'm not bothering<3

could u do Alastor x Male Overlord! Reader who is the opposite of him? Grumpy, rarely smiles and doesn't like dancing and singing?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄

❝𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑, are you with anyone?❞

The Radio Demon turned to the daughter of Lucifer and the smile on his face brightened a bit at the question.

He nodded his head as he tapped his cane on the ground. "Yes, I am dear! I've been married to a certain overlord for some time now!" he answered, he hummed as he thought about his lover. "He'll be coming over for a date."

Angel Dust spat out his drink and looked at the overlord demon. "You're WHAT?! I didn't know you were gay!"

"I'm not gay."

"But you aren't straight either!"

Alastor just shrugged his shoulders as he fixed his sleeves. "Can't I get married simply because I like a certain demon for who they are and not their gender?" he asked.

That made the pornstar quiet which was what he wanted.

Charlie just smiled as she looked at Alastor. "Well I can't wait to meet him!" she said.

"Didn't know anyone would want to marry the Radio Demon…" Vaggie mumbled under her breath.

Husker would've agreed with her if he hadn't been working for him for years.

After a certain period of time, a (h/c) haired male entered the hotel and their presence was terrifying.

"Darling!" The Radio Demon wrapped an arm around the slightly smaller demon who just leaned into his touches. "This is Y/N, one of the most daring and powerful overlords on this side of the pentagram!"

"Pleasure to meet you, Princess Charlie." The Overlord bowed his head at the sight of Charlie wanting to show respect before he turned to Alastor with a small smile. "You didn't need to introduce me that way, dear."

Everyone was surprised to say the least

THE RADIO DEMON TAKEN? MARRIED?

Alastor always seemed like the type to hate being touched yet he was married and affectionate with?

Y/N was the complete opposite of Alastor

Rarely smiled when he came to visit the hotel for his husband

Quietely observed whenever they were singing and dancing

The two kept their rings on golden/silver chains instead of wearing them on their ring fingers.

"Well, farewell chums!"

At the snap of Alastor's fingers, Y/N and himself vanished from the hotel to a restaurant in cannibal town.

Y/N looked at his lover and tilted his head. "May I hold your hand, dear?" he asked his husband, the Radio Demon was relaxed with the other Overlord.

Sinners that saw the two at the restaurant fled in fear of getting killed or their souls taken.

Alastor's smile turned into something that softened as he took his lover's hand. "Of course, darling." he nodded his head while the two of them walked towards where they would be sitting.

The two Overlords wouldn't let anything ruin their date.

Of course, Y/N visited more often

He was more affectionate than Alastor

Alastor married a demisexual icon

He just always asked before he did anything

Nobody in the hotel knew what Y/N liked except Alastor

Y/N was always gentle with anybody that he knew

Usually, Y/N was grumpy and never smiled whenever he was alone with anybody

He was less grumpy when Alastor was around and only smiled a bit when his husband was around.

Y/N also avoided dancing and singing like the plague. DON'T EXPECT HIM TO JOIN IN!

Unless it's to slow dance with Alastor

"So...How long have you been married to Alastor?"

"I don't know why it's your business..." The (H/C) haired Overlord turned his head to Angel Dust before taking a sip of whiskey and shrugged his shoulders. "We've been married for decades, we got married when we were alive."

Charlie smiled when she heard that. "So you knew him before? That's really sweet!" she said clapping her hands.

Y/N's frown worsened when he heard him. "Not...really sweet? We only got married when we were humans for benefits." he blunted said and shrugged. "I guess we didn't really fall in love til we ended up down here?"

"But did you love him when you both were alive?"

Y/N looked around to make sure Alastor wasn't around before he softened his expression when thinking about his time with his husband.

He looked away from the princess as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"Of course I did."

#hazbin hotel #alastor #x male reader #alastor x male reader #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel alastor #no smut #fluff

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jiminrings · 2 months

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fail-safe (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.

alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: i am So sorry for this .

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

FIVE YEARS LATER

The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.

Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.

Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.

“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.

He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.

It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.

He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Neither could you.

Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.

Yoongi’s home.

Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.

Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.

Enduring is different than working.

You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.

You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.

There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.

Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.

In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.

The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.

It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.

Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.

Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.

Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.

“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”

“Yeah. Just us.”

Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.

Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

You’re numb if that’s the word for it.

Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.

Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.

Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.

You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.

Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.

“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.

Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.

“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.

He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.

“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.

Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.

You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.

To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.

The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.

You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.

Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.

“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.

“No, Joon. You give it.”

“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.

“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”

You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.

Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.

Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.

“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.

Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.

“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.

“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”

The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”

“This is not about the bug spray!”

“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”

Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”

You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.

“Don’t call me that.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.

He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.

You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.

You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.

Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.

It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.

“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.

“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.

“There. Just how you like them.”

There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.

Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.

( ♡ )

If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.

You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.

Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.

You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.

You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.

You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.

You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.

“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.

Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.

Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.

“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.

“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.

Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”

Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”

“You can stop telling me these things now.”

Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.

“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”

( ♡ )

Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.

You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.

For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.

He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.

Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.

You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.

“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”

You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.

“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”

“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.

“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.

“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.

“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.

Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”

A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.

“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.

“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.

The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.

“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.

Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.

“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.

(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)

You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.

In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.

You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.

“Okay.”

Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.

( ♡ )

A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.

You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.

When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.

And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.

Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.

If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.

The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.

“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.

You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.

“Abibas.”

Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.

“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”

Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.

Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.

The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.

“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.

“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.

“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”

You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.

“I never said that!”

You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.

“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.

“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.

Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.

“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.

“And you know, play for Korea.”

“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.

( ♡ )

On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.

The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.

You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.

You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”

“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”

“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”

“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.

“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.

“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”

“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.

Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”

Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.

Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.

You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.

In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.

“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.

Yoongi only hums.

“I know.”

( ♡ )

You’re falling back into your old routine.

Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.

Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.

It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.

You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.

Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.

“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.

You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.

“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.

“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.

“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.

It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.

Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.

Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.

Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.

#target audience im on my knees IM SO SO SORRY HOW R U FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

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mrwavellswaps · 18 days

Text

Born In The Wrong World

Megan had grown tired of her life. There were many reasons she could give for it but if she did we’d be here all day. The short of it was… she was unsatisfied. Despite being a witch with all her magical capabilities, she found herself yearning for something more than this life she had. The life of a young woman living a world that didn’t value her. And a lot of the time she couldn’t help but think that was simply because of the fact that she was a woman and that if she’d been born a man that maybe things would be different somehow. She might’ve been talented with magic but she was never recognised as much as the men in her world were for their magical talents.

So that’s when she made her decision. If you can’t beat them, join them.

At first she considered simply switching her gender but without an incredibly powerful reality bending spell to go with it, everyone would know she used to be a woman. So her next though was stealing the body of a man. Unfortunately the only body swapping spell she had the ability to cast was one that could only be performed between those who had close DNA connections. Aka family. But she didn’t want to do that. The thought of stealing her father or brothers body was… odd to say the least.

It took a lot of time and research but eventually she came up with a solution. It took her months of practice but eventually she was able to cast a spell that opened a portal to another dimension. One almost completely identical to Megan’s world in every way except everyone’s genders were reversed! Anyone born a woman in her dimension was born a man in this one and vice versa. So what was her solution? To find her male counterpart in this universe of course!

It didn’t take long to track him down. His name was Mark and the similarities between him and Megan were uncanny. Sort of like twins born with different genders. In a sense they kinda were twins. However instead of having Megan’s long flowing hair and delicate skin, Mark was completely bald and had a thick full beard coating his face. He was taller than her and had all the things you’d expect to see on a man like body hair and strong masculine features. He was surprisingly muscular as well though to Megan’s delight with a very strong build. Most notably his thick and powerful looking arms. Megan couldn’t help feeling envious knowing this is what she could’ve had.

Megan did her best to spy on Mark for a while without being noticed. She’d already confirmed he was a magic user like her, further proving what she already knew. But pretty soon she couldn’t stop herself anymore. She needed that body!

She wasn’t entirely sure that body swapping spell she had would work but she had to try. Or else this would’ve all been for nothing! And so Megan managed to ambush Mark as he was coming home, using some sleeping dust and blowing it in his face to knock him out.

When Mark awoke, he found himself naked and bound by enchanted cuffs to his own bed with his nude female self standing over him. He shouted and pleaded with her, wanting to know who she was and what she was doing. But Maise wouldn’t answer. Instead she simply began to ritual for the swapping spell.

A look of worry and fear crossed Mark’s face as Megan began reciting incantations out loud. He had no idea what she was trying to do but it couldn’t be good. He begged her to stop but Megan refused to listen and soon enough a magical aura began swirling around the pair.

Immediately the spell began to kick in and Mark’s eyes bulged as he watched his chest begin to swell. The hair on it swiftly fading away as two womanly breasts grew in place of his pecs. Meanwhile the opposite happened to Megan. Her breasts shrinking away completely as her nipples diminished before chest hair started to sprout. Immediately Mark figured out what was happening but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Megan moaned with delight as she felt everything Mark had being transferred to her. The feminine shape of her body started to fade as it was replaced by a much more masculine form. Her legs swelling up with thick muscle as her feet grew multiple sizes. Her ass transforming into much more of a male muscle butt that she would’ve thirsted over before. But by far one of the best changes had to be with her arms. Feeling her biceps and triceps swell with such immense size and strength that she couldn't help feeling a sense of pride flowing through her as she flexed them. All while her hands grew into bigger meatier man hands.

Just like with her chest, newfound body hair spread up and down her body. Most notably spreading across her legs and stomach but she couldn’t ignore the small bushes sprouting from her armpits either. She’d always loved a good bit of hair on a man.

Meanwhile Mark had undergone the reverse of Megan’s transformation with his body from the neck down becoming almost completely that of a woman. Their heads however were still mismatched. But that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. After having been forced to witness his muscle and size being stolen, Mark continued to beg Megan to stop. But why the hell would she do that when she was already loving this so much!

And just like that, right as Mark was about to protest again he was swiftly cut off by the feeling of hair growing fast from his once bald head while his beard started to vanish.

For Megan though, her own long flowing hair started to recede quickly. Getting shorter and shorter by the second. And as it did she felt an itching on her face. She scratched her chin and cheeks a little, initially confused as to why it was still so smooth despite the itching. That is until a large thick beard suddenly sprouted all at once! Filling her meaty hands with hair. And as it did, the hair on her head finally finished receding, having disappeared completely and leaving her with a bald scalp.

From there Megan’s features began to alter. Her head changed shape slightly as her eyebrows grew thicker and her eyes became more deeply set. Her nose naturally became a bit broader while her lips thinned ever so slightly to appear less feminine. Beneath the mass of hair covering her face, Megan could tell that her jaw was reshaping itself as well. Becoming more angular and masculine. And with a few more tweaks on top of that, Megan’s face now looked identical to how Mark’s once had!

Mark screamed in a high pitched feminine voice, struggling against his restraints. Seeing this woman steal everything from him right before his very eyes and forcefully transfer her female body to him was downright terrifying! Though as Mark struggled, he noticed something. Despite his now feminine body and bouncing boobs, he could still feel his cock flopping between his legs. He was about to let out an internal sigh of relief… until suddenly his dick started to twitch and tingle. Then without warning, his balls sucked back up inside his body.

Megan grinned, knowing it was finally time. The final phase. The spell book even mentioned this part would happen last due to these last parts being such sensitive organs. Though that didn’t stop her from letting out a manly groan as she could feel her ovaries starting to descend inside of her, transforming into testicles on their way down. A dumb grin spreading across her bearded face as a growing ball sack pushed its way out of her slit. She could already feel those fattening balls beginning to produce testosterone to pump through her new body. But the most exciting part was still to come as she watched a small cock head poke its way out of her swiftly closing slit. It was only tiny at first but as it pushed further and further out, it fattened. Twitching and throbbing uncontrollably as it grew longer and girthier. Not stopping until Megan had a massive juicy cock swinging between her legs at last.

A shiver ran up Megan’s spine as she touched her new member for the first time. It was so sensitive yet she still couldn’t believe it. It almost seemed like a dream that her plan was actually a success but as she ran her hands up and down her new male body, she could only confirm that this was in fact real! She was fucking man!

As for Mark, he was a complete and total mess. The last of his manhood had been stripped away from him. Stolen by his once female alternate self. That didn’t stop him from pleading with her though. But Megan simply ignored him as she was far too fascinated by the look and feeling of her new masculine body. Groping her muscles. Playing with her body hair. Touching her beard and bald head. And of course gently pumping her new cock, much to her own delight.

She wasn’t able to get too into it though with Mark whining on the bed about wanting his body back. So Megan sighed and paused her exploration of her new body, instead walking over to the pile of discarded clothes she’d taken off Mark earlier on and slipping them on herself. A pair of gray shorts, a white tank top, white athletic socks and black shoes. All of which would’ve been too big for her before but of course now fit her manly body perfectly.

With that she left Mark to struggle in the restraints for a while, deciding to go out and see the world with the eyes of a man for the very first time. She already had plans for when she returned. First she was going to perform a forbidden ritual on Mark to seal his own magic and prevent him from telling anyone about what happened and as soon as that was done she planned on reactivating the inter-dimensional portal spell that got her here. Luckily it was much easier to perform the second time when returning back to your own dimension. Sort of like having a return ticket to go home. Only she wasn’t planning on going through herself. If she went back to her world like this, there would be far too many questions. So the best solution was to stay here and send Mark back as her old self.

Megan, or rather the new Mark, found a bench for himself to sit at a nearby park outside his new apartment. He sat and allowed himself to bask in the glow of the sun. A feeling of triumphant victory washing over him. Finally he could have a new life in this alternate world. A new life as a man. And a hot as fuck man at that. No longer having to worry about the challenges of being a woman and getting to reap the benefits of swinging a cock between his legs instead. Speaking of, as soon as his alternate self had been sent back to his old reality, he planned on spending the next day worshiping his body and jerking off so much that his balls were completely drained. He couldn’t fucking wait because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was the reality he was supposed to have been born into.

Hope you all enjoyed this Shorter story from me. I’ve been busy as of late and am working on something longer right now but I thought I’d upload this in the meantime!

Also you’re welcome @bodyswappingandshit @bodyswappingandshit-1

#female to male tf #female to male #male transformation #male body swap #male body theft #permanent #magic #identity theft #hairy #jock #muscle theft #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #male to female #male to female tf

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daycourtofficial · 1 month

Text

Laborious anxieties

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Author’s note: this is technically a follow-up to A Starfall in Autumn, but could be read as a standalone 🥰 I kinda tore through writing this. I got the request at 7:45 and finished writing at 9:30. Forgive any spelling errors, I have ✨sick brain✨

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, blood loss

The last two weeks of your pregnancy had been a time riddled with anxiety.

You were fine - it was Eris who was unable to stay calm. It felt like a stranger was consuming your mate’s body the way nervousness radiated off of him these days.

And the way he clung to you was very unlike him.

He stepped back from High Lord duties for at least a month, delegating responsibilities amongst his brothers and advisors. He receives a summary of the day’s activities during dinner, and except for a trade agreement his brother signed that was less than advantageous for Autumn, everything was running fine.

Which meant your mate could spend all of his time worrying about you, following you around. He’d gotten so absurd he began having his hounds check you for any abnormalities, doing a ‘daily check’ where they sniffed you to ensure you were okay.

The moment you had told Eris of your pregnancy, his joy was very quickly eclipsed by his very sudden interest in providing you with more security. You had been able to talk him down from the initial twelve guards he wanted trailing you at all times to two guards and at least two of the hounds.

“One hound will stay and defend me, the other one will find you,” you had argued. He relented, but as you got closer and closer to your due date, his attempts at renegotiation were increasing by the day.

You had now agreed to four guards and six hounds with you at all times, unless you were with him.

Between the massive bump on your belly that makes maneuvering around very difficult and the entourage you’d have to take, you opt more often than not to stay in your chambers for most of the day.

One of Autumn’s advisors had suggested the birth be a public spectacle, and Eris grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him out of the room, stating, “you’ll be allowed back in when you’ve recovered from your sudden onset stupidity.”

You were glad, because even laboring privately didn’t keep it from being quite the spectacle. Three high lords were to be in Autumn around the birth: your brother, Rhysand, and Eris’s brother, Lucien.

Lucien offered to be available to you in any way he can be, so you took him up on that offer and begged him to take your mate away for an hour or so every day.

So every day at an hour past noon, Lucien would retrieve Eris, and they would play some sporting game they invented when Lucien was a child. They tried explaining it to you, but it never made any sense to you, so you opted to just let them enjoy themselves.

Today, Eris was running through the halls of the Forest House, cursing himself for putting his chambers so deep inside. The house was more fortified the further in you went, with many foxholes that can take you throughout the court. Now it was just a pain to get back to his mate who was definitely not okay.

His fingers made quick work of ruining his hair, a light sweat coating his skin as he flung open the door, preparing for the worst.

Instead, he found his insufferable brother in law opposite you on the bed playing a card game.

“Hi Er,” you say, lighting up at the sight of him, but quickly going back to the cards in your hand, determination in your features.

Clover, the eldest hound and your personal favorite, currently had her head resting against your bump. Her eyes tracked the room, searching for any movement that could be perceived as a threat. Her tail wagged softly at Eris’s entrance, but she remained fixed, guarding your unborn babe.

“Hi Er,” Rhys offers, not glancing up from his cards, “did you run here or do you get winded from these elaborate halls?”

Eris straightens his vest, closing the door behind him as he walks further into the room. “Someone was sending some very distressed signals down the bond.”

He keeps his eyes on you as your face softens, “oops, I was so focused on our game, I didn’t mean to. It’s just not fair because he cheats!”

“I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse a high lord of such a crime?”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he immediately returns. Eris rolls his eyes, well aware of how being around your brother turns the two of you into children. He heads into your private chambers, heading towards the bathroom to bathe.

After bathing and putting on fresh clothes, Eris is about to head back to the two of you, when he hears your soft voice whisper through the door, “I miss mother.”

He’s sure you’re curled up into Rhysand, peering into the violet eyes you both inherited from her. He turns back into the chambers, allowing the two of you to share your grief. As he retreats he does hear, “but I’ll have Eris’s mother. She’s not, y’know, but she’s great. If I can’t have mother, she’s a great stand-in.”

He smiles to himself, finding the book on his bedside table, and settling into the couch, letting the two of you have your privacy.

Rhys travels between Autumn and Night every morning and every afternoon, keeping you company during the morning as you become more and more confined to your bedchambers.

You weren’t technically ordered for bedrest, but moving about was incredibly taxing for you, especially when trying to wrangle the large entourage Eris insisted on.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Rhysand happened to be with you when your water broke.

Eris was at court settling a dispute between his idiotic advisors that they insisted required his input when Rhysand’s claws tapped his mind. Upon allowing him entry, he hears Rhysand’s voice trickle in.

It’s time.

Your contractions began, slow and unhurried, the cramping abismal. The contractions came quicker and quicker, time between shortening until your nursemaid tells you to start pushing.

You cry out as you do so, an intense pain coming from your pelvis. They tell you to stop, as they check to ensure your dilated enough to continue.

They motion for you to continue, but the pain only gets worse.

“She’s tearing dramatically,” one of the nurses says.

“What does that mean?” Rhys asks, holding your hand.

“Her circulation’s poor, likely because of the bedrest. She’s losing a lot of blood from these tears.”

Eris felt the primal rage of the mating bond heating his blood. They were talking about his mate in such a sterile, clinical way. Eris bared his teeth at them, but they did not back down, they would not back down, even to the commanding presence of multiple high lords.

“I need the two of you to leave, now. I need to focus, and I can’t do that with two high lords breathing down my neck.”

“Everyone here has her best interest at heart - I promise you, high lords, we will do our best for her,” another nursemaid says.

Eris’s eyes are fixed on your pale face, drained of any color. He doesn’t feel Rhys’s arm wrap around him, dragging him out of the room, nor does he feel the wall Rhys presses him against, giving him something to support his weight.

He can’t let that be the last memory he has of your face.

Lucien is in the hall, and Rhys is updating him on how much blood you loss. “Can’t Feyre’s blood heal? Can she come help?”

Eris snaps his eyes up to Rhysand, whose eyes have a vaguely glossy look to them.

“Please, Rhys.”

Eris did not beg. He accepted the hands he was dealt. He did not plead with his father, as the whip would strike his back. He did not plead with the Mother when he had to chase Lucien into Spring. He did not plead with the Cauldron or the stars asking for help.

But he would ask Rhysand.

“She’s on her way, she just has to get someone to care for Nyx.”

“Hel, she can bring Nyx and I can care for him,” Eris offered, reaching out to hold tightly onto that golden string connecting the two of you.

Rhys’s eyebrows raise, but Lucien cuts in, “brother, you are in no state to watch over a young child.”

“Since when have you had any experience with young children?”

Lucien balks, “the children of Spring were quite fond of me.”

Eris smirks, “pity the children of the court you preside over do not feel the same.”

Lucien is about to bite back when Rhys comes back to them.

“Okay, she’ll be here any minute now.”

Eris hated to do it, tampering with the wards of the Forest House to allow any member of your family entry in the past month.

Never has he been so grateful he did something he so staunchly opposed when Feyre appeared in front of them, a cooing Nyx in her arms that she quickly hands off to Lucien. She briefly lets her hand touch Rhys’s shoulder as she nods to Eris before running into the room.

Lucien holds Nyx, the young toddler providing amusement to the three high lords.

“Do you have a name?” Rhys asks, trying to distract Eris from the nervous meltdown he understood all too well.

“For a girl, we like Hestia Seline.”

Rhys’s eyes snap up, but Eris continues.

“Some ancient humans believed in multiple gods, one of which was the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. And Seline for..”

He gestures towards Rhys, letting his sentence finish there.

“You would allow a Vanserra to be named after my mother?”

Eris nods, “if she insisted,” a finger was pointed to the door you lay behind, in what condition Eris had no idea, “I’d let her name a Vanserra ‘Rhys Azriel Vanserra.”

Rhys grins, “but not Cassian?”

“We all must draw lines somewhere, Rhysand.”

Lucien hoists Nyx up into the air, his little wings fluttering, and Eris watches.

“I helped raise all of my brothers,” he states to no one in particular. “It would have been utter carnage if they had wings.”

“And Cassian only makes it worse.”

“Color me surprised. Don’t allow him home alone with Nyx, I’m sure he’ll throw him from your tallest balconies.”

Rhysand breathes through his nose, and Eris knows there’s a great possibility it is something that has already happened.

“What if it’s a boy?” Rhys asks, “you have Hestia Seline.”

“Jasper Camden.”

“Didn’t want another Beron around?” Lucien asks, pushing Nyx into the air on one arm.

“The day I give a child that name is the day I have been possessed.”

The conversation was helping distract Eris, but he kept a tight hold on the bond, ensuring you felt him no matter what.

Eris feels intense pain through the bond, and without thinking, he shoots up off the ground, and opens the door, promptly running into one of the nursemaids.

“High lord, she’s pushing again. The tears were healed, and she’s doing much better. I was just about to get you.”

He comes over to you, holding one of your hands. Feyre was tightly holding your other, holding a damp cloth to your forehead.

“Hello, my love.”

Eris isn’t sure when he started crying, but he knew he was when you smiled back at him, color back to your beautiful face.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a vampire now- ah!”

You breathe out slowly, and Feyre begins whispering words of encouragement to you.

“But my dear, you love the sun too much.”

You nod as you push, and the nurse tells you you can stop for a moment. You catch your breath, looking towards your mate.

“But I would have really cool fangs. I could taste your blood.”

He strokes the back of your hand, kissing your palm. “Anything you want, my love.”

Your labor continued, much faster now as you held onto Feyre and Eris’s hands, frequently apologizing if you break any fingers.

Eris never got to be around for this part. He was always kept in front of closed doors, anxiously waiting for his next brother, uncertain as to his mother’s state. His anxiety reprieved only hours after the actual labor, when he was allowed to visit his mother and new brother.

Now he was here, the bond thrumming between you two, as he got to hear the first cries of his babe. You almost fall back in exhaustion as your babe slides out, but Eris slides behind you, allowing you to rest against his chest.

He holds your sweaty face in his hands, hair damp, kissing your forehead, telling you how proud of you he was and how incredible you were.

The two of you listen to your babe’s cries as the nursemaid brings the babe to you, placing them on your chest.

Every exhalation is accompanied by a wailing too large for the small body as they breathe air into their lungs for the first time.

Eris places a hand on the babe’s back, hoping they’ll remember his touch from the womb. The babe was covered in birth, but Eris didn’t care. He knew being around for this part was a privilege he had never been afforded before.

He kisses your head again, as the nursemaid smiles at the two of you.

“It’s a girl.”

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you

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savannahsdeath · 9 months

Note

As a lil ellie request, would u mind writing smth about reader being mad at ellie bc she was a little reckless on patrol and got hurt, so she dosnt let ellie touch her while she rides her? <33

this is my first request and i absolutely love it so how could i say no 🤭

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

summary: ellie was reckless during her usual patrol so you decided to give her a lesson

warnings: 18+!! smut, strap (r!receiving), wound, mean!reader, begging

writers note: i actually love this idea sm?? also dear anon sorry if its not something you expected but its just how i imagine that:3

You were waiting for your girlfriend to come back from patrol, just like every day. Except today she took her fucking time.

The sun has already set, so instead of waiting in the couch, as usual, you decided to go to your bedroom. You knew you won't fall asleep, not until she comes back. You needed to see she's safe if you want to sleep peacefully.

The door's opened.

You heard her entering the living room, surprised you're not there.

"Babe?" She frowned.

You quickly ran up to her. You were already mad she came home so late but after seeing her you were truly pissed of.

Her jeans were rolled up, exposing her leg covered in messy-bloody bandages.

"What the fuck happened?" You almost yelled, kneeling in front of her and unwrapping it.

"I might get bit." She said with a shrug, like it's a normal thing. "They almost killed Jesse, so I covered him. Ya know, he's not the immune one."

You went to the bathroom to get fresh bandages and alcohol to clean the wound. The bit was small, it (whatever 'it' was) probably barely touched her. You quickly started patching her up.

"So what, just because you're immune makes you think you can risk your life?" You chuckled mockingly.

Her leg stung from the alcohol and it took all of her efforts to not groan out in pain.

It was almost more frustrating that she was so nonchalant about it. Like, you knew she didn't care about herself, she rarely ever did, but her putting herself in harm's way because she's the immune-whatever was just annoying. You wanted to yell at her and drag her into the house and never let her out again, but you also didn't want to sound like a controlling jerk.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" Ellie smirked. You rolled your eyes at her response to your concern. She always liked to push your buttons, and this was only one of times she does it.

You finished cleaning and patching up the small bite on her leg, and the wound looked almost healed. You went back to the bathroom to to throw away the used bandages.

You leaned over the sink, splashing some water in your face and gathering your thoughts.

Maybe you overreacted?

Suddenly, when you looked at the mirror, you saw Ellie standing behind you with her hands wrapped around your waist. Her breath tickled the side of your face as she pressed herself against you.

You felt the bulge in her pants and your eyes widened. There's no way she was wearing it at the patrol, but then again, when did she manage to put it on?

"I can make it up to you." She whispered.

You couldn't completely give in. She deserved a lesson and you doing whatever she wants would have the opposite effect. Still, you couldn't resist her now, could you?

Before you could push her away, she kissed you. Her lips were so possessive, like she's intentionally making you as breathless as possible, so you won't manage to speak - you won't manage to say no. The truth is, you didn't want to say no. Not to her.

She was slowly pushing you towards your bedroom, which was (luckily) opposite the bathroom.

She pulled away to let you catch your breath only when you were sitting on her lap, not able to move because of her strong grip.

After she unbuckled her belt, she lied down as you sat on top of her. She gave you one of those 'you know what to do' looks.

And that was the moment your bratty attitude came back, as you remembered how reckless your girlfriend really is. Of course you craved her strap, but you wanted to somehow make her regret her stupid antics, so you decided to take it your way.

She was the type of person that needed to touch you. Going on a walk? - Her hand is either on your waist, back pocket of your jeans or tangled with yours. And while you're fucking she had to hold you. Even though just the sight of you is enough to make her go insane, she could never keep her hands away from you.

This time wasn't an exception but you wanted it to be.

You spared yourself all the little games and you started riding her instantly. Gripping her hips for balance, rolling your eyes back and moaning her name.

For her, you looked like the most precious thing in the world right at this moment. She just loved seeing you fuck yourself dumb on her cock.

Her hands started desperatly touching your body, as if to make sure this isn't a hallucination. But you quickly pulled them away.

She had no idea what your point was, she narrowed her eyes and frowned. Suddenly she smirked as she remembered your previous 'argument'.

"Don't tell me you're still mad." She chuckled breathlessly.

Usually you'd try to be as quiet as possible, embarrased by how Ellie can make you feel. This day you were anything but quiet, hoping to make her mad.

"I may be." You moaned out.

She closed her eyes, loudly exhaling, as she seemed to think about something.

She tried touching you a few more times, not successfully. You were holding back a laugh at her confusion.

"Don't be like that, I know you love my touch. Just let me... It would be a win-win situation." She tilted her head, staring at you taking the whole strap without her help. At this point, what you did was cruel.

"Are you seriously so mad at me for this little bite that you're going to make me just helplessly watch?" She continued, her each word sounded more and more exaggerated.

"What, can't stand it?" You said mockingly, continuing to whimper.

"Of course I can't fucking stand it!" She covered her face with her hands as looking at you made it worse and she wasn't able to just look away. Her hips were thrusting, just a little, as she hoped you won't notice.

You couldn't hold back your laugh any longer. She was really losing her mind, or at least pretending to. You couldn't tell. But it sure was funny to watch her squirm.

Your smirk grew with each response, knowing her patience was wearing thin and she would soon be begging for you. She was clearly pissed at the situation, but she wanted to play it cool at first. However, that facade melted with your each mocking response.

"Just let me touch you." She whispered, her voice becoming more needy and frustrated. "I need this."

"You know what I need?" You grinned in between your groans. "An responsible girlfriend who doesn't think her immunity is an excuse for... everything."

She scoffed, but she didn't care about the answer. She just needed you. The frustration was building up to the point where she wouldn't be able to take it soon. Her hands started pulling at your shirt as if she wanted to discretely show you she wants it off of you. She had gone mad, and you loved every moment of it.

"Please, I can't take it anymore." She moaned, her voice breaking every word with a new breath.

"There she is, starting to beg." You laughed as you pushed her hands away again, gentler this time.

Of course you didn't feel as good as you did when Ellie was helping you - there's just something about the way she guides your hips on top of her. But you had to keep your cool this time.

Her hands kept reaching for you, but you kept pulling them away. She was frustrated, and her voice was getting angrier.

"Stop playing hard to get."

It was clear she had almost reached her limit. She didn't care about anything anymore, she just wanted you.

You whimpered and teased her some more, which drove her completely mad. She was at her limit and couldn't handle it any longer.

"Please... please... please." She begged desperately, pulling at your shirt. "I'm going crazy, I need you..."

The sound of her voice broke you. You couldn't help but stop and start giggling to yourself, amused by the desperation in her tone.

But you didn't dare push the game any longer.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #wlw smut #smut #strappon #anon #nonnie asks #thank you nonnie #send anons #reqs open #request

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madschiavelique · 10 months

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : so you were called for back-up on a mission with gwen, hobie, pavitr and miguel. you get him out of a tight situation, he drags you in a dark street, you get back to the team, you get shot in the thigh, and miguel starts sucking on the bullet to get it out of your skin :D (or most simply, how you got wounded and miguel is playing healing vampire)

content warnings : blood, bullet (if there are others please do tell so that i can add them !), biting (literal), miguel licking you, no use of Y/N word count : 5,3k

note : the spider babies feel like a lil found family to me, so i had to make them goofy in this. i thought about miguel’s bites not only being poisonous, but also in another dosage a great pain killer (i have strictly no idea about how realistic all this is but here have fun reading this besties). this stands as the first part of a 3-shot that i am writing for my bday which is in 4 days hehe (crying), also i didn't proof-read this and english is not my first language :D, enjoy

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

Although this wasn't your first mission, you couldn't help but feel like a frozen steak being thrown into a hot pan. You weren't always flung into the thick of the action, of course, but today you were, because you'd been called in as reinforcements with Pavitr.

Miguel had taken Hobie and Gwen on this mission, hoping to get Gwen more used to the terrain. You had arrived a little after her, and for the moment you had restricted access to the field. But today was clearly an exception. You and Pavitr had been called in as back-up, and you immediately took the portal to the dimension in question.

As soon as you emerged from the portal, your spider-senses alerted you to the need to throw yourselves to the ground to avoid the rush of bullets that had been fired in your direction. Exchanging surprised glances, you began to crawl to the side of the building that seemed to be opposite to where the incessant gunfire was coming from, hoping to avoid being riddled with bullets. Because although Swiss cheese was appetising, it wasn't in your plans to become one.

Pavitr tapped his watch.

"Miguel, we're here, where are-" but he had no need to ask the latter's whereabouts, since right in front of them swayed Hobie and Gwen, who seemed to be fleeing... A bride?

It was a bride armed with some sort of personally optimised cannon that was firmly strapped to her body, and if your instincts were right, it would appear that her ammunition was not as simple as that commonly sold, and you dreaded to know what would come out if she fired. She moved with a sort of jet-pack, following your friends at breakneck speed, her long white veil rippling like a trail left behind an aeroplane. Immediately, the two of you began to follow to join them.

"Hey, Hobie! Gwen! We're here!" you shouted.

Suddenly, the bride's head swivelled in your direction, her big red lips stretching into a smile as her eyes widened like two big marbles. Ouch, maybe shouting your presence in the middle of a fight wasn't the right decision.

You could already hear Miguel's voice echoing in your mind: "You should have taken advantage of the surprise and used it to your advantage instead of letting the whole town know that two Spider-Men had just joined the fight!"

But hey, what's done is done, and you'll certainly remember to be more observant on your next mission.

"Ah, Miguel's little minions have joined the party! Honey?" she shouted as you both reached Gwen and Hobie, "we've got some newcomers, I hope they're on the guest list for the ceremony. It would displease me greatly if we had to eliminate them just for that reason."

"After all, murder and marriage are the same if the two people know each other and it all ends in death," you say, your eyes falling for a moment on the absolutely enormous cannon she seems to have programmed to shoot you.

"Marriage is just another contract to life anyway," replied Hobie, to which you nodded sharply. "Anyway, with her chemtrail theory flying around behind her, I'm worried."

It seemed that the anomaly was not a single anomaly, but rather a couple of anomalies, which was probably why these two had been asked to provide support.

"Where's Miguel?" asked Pavitr, all still running.

"Oh bloke, you're not going to believe your eyes when you see him," sneered Hobie.

"What happened?" you asked.

"I took a few photos of the occasion," said Gwen, "but nothing beats seeing it for real."

A loud bang sounded, and you turned to see what had just happened. The face of the building you were standing on was melting: the bride had fired a bubble of acid that had burst against the wall and was biting all the adverts that were stuck to it.

"Destroying propaganda? Bonkers, I'm starting to reconsider this," Hobie huffed.

"Miguel's further down the avenue, on that street over there," said Gwen. "Go and see him before he comes, it's well worth a look.

When the mystery is too great, you don't dare disobey, so while they were busy evacuating more civilians to reduce the number of casualties from the mission, you set off in the direction you'd been told.

You swung out into the street, and as you rounded the corner, you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. The great Miguel O'Hara, the man at the head of the Spider Society, guardian and master of the inter-dimensional balance of events, was pasted up and looked like an Egyptian drawing in the process of running, or the typical chalk drawing you would draw on the ground at a crime scene, all covered in a gooey fluffy substance.

You swung over to him, and he noticed your arrival. You landed on the edge of the wall he was stuck on, biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

"If you want to say something now is the time to shut up." he said, teeth clenched.

"Gwen was right, it's definitely worth the trip. Comfortable? Need a magazine? A snack perhaps?"

"Hilarious, are you going to mess with me like this for much longer or are you planning to help me out of this situation?"

"My intentions were of a slightly more agreeable nature," you huff, walking towards him on all fours.

The substance surrounding him seemed to be a kind of solid foam that kept swelling slowly. You drew out your claws and began to cut the foam from his arm.

"Lovely couple over there, real synergy between the two of them. Shame almost half of marriages end in divorce."

"You get sentimental about enemies? Keep your sensitivity out of the fight and concentrate."

"Focus on foam? Honestly you know your Marshmallow Man costume lacks realism."

He let his neck tilt back until it touches the wall, murmured between his lips: "todos me vais a matar."

A small smile stretched across your face, the poor guy must have felt like he was babysitting, and although you were older than all the other teammates, hanging out with them brought out your absurd and more childlike side, your inner child in a way.

You managed to dislodge quite a bit of foam, but it was taking too long, it was thick and had the consistency of snow whose surface had crystallised.

"I'm pulling your leg, jefe" you say, the little use of the Spanish name making him react. What, You've got to make a profit from duolingo after all. " Okay, pull in your tummy."

"What?"

You raised your arm in the air, your claws extending a little further. Lately you'd been trying to see how far you could push the limits of your costume, and the increase in your claws was one of them. It was a bit painful, but if it meant Miguel could get out of this situation and get home safe, then you might as well take it. All you could hope for was that you wouldn't fail...

Then, with a sharp, wide stroke, you sliced through the foam. The cut was perfect, and Miguel, who was just as surprised as you were, popped out of his spot as if he'd just stepped out of a mould.

" Well," he turned to you, dusting off the few remnants of foam still clinging to his body, "observations?"

This was an exercise that Miguel inflicted on every recruit during their training or recruitment. It was simple: he selected a small anomaly to keep things simple, and asked the recruit what observations they'd make to neutralise the target. Except that, in this case, the anomaly wasn't so minor. You were racking your brains.

"I didn't see the husband, but I did see the bride. She's got a jet pack that should be neutralisable, it'll slow her down in her movements, but you'd have to aim carefully to do that. Her only power is her weapon, except that as it's attached to her it's going to be complex..."

Then you remembered her attire, and especially the long veil firmly placed on her head.

"Her wedding veil, you should be able to pull it down and hold it still."

Miguel nodded, you didn't know how to take the look he was giving you through the mask, but you hoped he was satisfied with the answer.

"The husband's pretty much the same, except-" but he didn't finish his sentence, suddenly grabbing your arm and pulling you instead into a much darker, narrower adjacent alley. He leaned against a wall, looking down at the street you had just left.

"Here's the husband," he murmured.

The suddenness of the gesture took you by surprise, of course, and you seemed unable to think straight. Not just because you were so close that your bodies were pressed together, but because all your senses, all your nerves, seemed to come together in one and the same place in your body, a place where it felt like sparks were flying: Miguel's hand was placed on your waist.

Through the thin but hard-wearing fabric of your suit, you could feel the heat from his fingers spread across your skin, sending a shiver down your spine and up to your neck and cheeks to warm them. His grip was firm on your flesh, and you tried to calm your breathing, which had been racing as fast as your heart at this closeness.

His second hand still had your arm in its embrace, and the simple thought occurred to you: what if his hand came down your arm to meet yours?

You looked up at Miguel's profile, watching the street you were on, alert. You took a deep breath as you watched him, his scent coming to you through the mask as earthy, pungent. And he turned his head towards you.

The distance separating your two faces was small, terribly small, and you wondered at that moment how the scene would have unfolded if neither of you had masks on. Would he have paid any attention to the way you were looking at him? Would those dark eyes have sparkled? Would you have been able to feel his hot breath on your face?

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate's increased."

The sentence refocused you for a moment as if you'd just plunged into icy water, your reverie no doubt perceptible through the suit. You lowered your eyes, glancing at the placement of his two hands on you, blinking rapidly as you tried to pull yourself together. Quick, an excuse, anything.

"The others," you breathed, using the card of concern for teammates, "I wonder how they're holding up."

"Uh huh..." he murmured, the answer only half satisfying him, his gaze piercing yours through his mask as you felt his hand tighten on your waist, another shiver running through your body. You didn't really understand why he'd maintained this seemingly intimate embrace, but to be honest, you weren't against the idea of this position for a few more moments.

It felt good to be like that, to share someone else's closeness.

He was so big, he seemed to engulf you with his size and thickness, looming over you, and so much strength and threat in one body aroused as much interest in you as it did fear.

Pull yourself together, for God's sake, what's Miguel, your boss? He's got better things to do than that, than get close to you, than get intimate with you...

He seemed to be inspecting you strangely, and the intensity of this gesture made you look down even more, the ground suddenly seeming very interesting to look at. But if he had anything to say on the subject, it could obviously wait until the mission was over.

"The way's clear, let's go," he says, finally letting go of his hold on you, "before these idiots do any more damage than they already have."

And with a thump, he pulled a web and propelled himself into the air. A gasp escaped your lips, the sudden sensation of not being touched leaving you feeling grey. You took a deep breath, trying to refocus your thoughts on the mission and not on the irreplaceable sensation that Miguel's hands had left on your body.

You dashed off in your turn, following him to join the others.

Not far away you could hear Hobie shouting: "They're pissing on us without even making us think it's raining!" Hobie, charming as always.

Needless to say, it was a fairground. Miguel threw a web in the bride's face and found the other three on a roof. Furious, he pointed his finger towards the corner of a building that was on fire, from the bottom of which civilians kept coming out, coughing, some even injured.

"Who did this?" he asked, his throat rumbling in frustration.

"You did," Hobie answered point-blank.

"Bravo," he growled sarcastically, "it's good to admit your mistakes."

"It's paradoxical communication," he informed you, avoiding a projectile that you couldn't identify, no doubt another munition of dubious composition from the bride's weapon, who seemed to be hurtling towards you with intensity.

" I Leave it to you for two minutes and you destroy everything," Miguel murmured as he began to run towards the enemy.

" Submerged by their numbers of two we couldn't do anything," pleaded Pavitr.

"Gobsmacked, maybe she's rebelling against a terribly phallocratic world," Hobie says as he dodges a huge snowball as big as himself launched from the cannon.

"Darling? Maybe it's time for dessert, what do you think?"

Shit, here comes the husband too. He was equipped with a jet-pack just like the groom, but his weapon was much less sophisticated than his wife's, a simple submachine gun, which didn't make it harmless, quite the contrary.

"Great idea! It's time for the icing on the cake," and with these words she seemed to throw portions of sweet and colourful cream towards your group.

"Come on, dance! Dance!" ordered the husband.

"No! I don't wanna dance, I'm from the town in footloose," you blurted out, trying to pull a simple web towards the cannon of the bride's gun.

You didn't succeed, but threw a second one anyway, taking the risk of standing still for a few moments to improve your aim. The web shot out and hit the barrel of the weapon. Yes! but the celebrations were short-lived, as a rush of bullets came crashing towards you, and even in your haste to escape, you were hit in the thigh.

A strangled little grunt vibrated against your teeth and lips, you didn't know exactly what it had struck in your leg, but the pain was sudden and stinging. Still, you followed the others a little, with difficulty. Every simple movement was a painful tug.

The group eventually stopped in an empty courtyard, to deliberate, talk strategy and how to organise themselves. The landing on the ground was a little abrupt, and you staggered back to your feet towards the group.

"Hey, you all right?" Hobie asked you.

"Never been better," you said, giving a thumbs up, your nose wrinkling at the next step.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're walking like a Disney witch," said Patvir, raising an eyebrow.

"Bollocks, your thigh!" pointed Hobie as he came towards you.

You looked down, the bullet had of course pierced the fabric of your suit, stretching the elastic material over your bloody thigh from the hole the bullet had punched in your thigh.

"Calm down," Gwen said in the distance, chatting to Miguel, "let me take care of this, Miguel."

"Like you've taken care of everything else so far, Gwen?" he said, his hands resting on his hips.

"Miguel?" called Pavitr.

"What do you want?" he asked as he turned his head suddenly towards where you guys were.

"Can't you answer 'yes' like everyone else?" gasped Pavitr.

But Miguel was already coming towards you, he must have seen the impact in your thigh.

"Nice icing on the cake, eh?" you said, laughing slightly at the situation. After all, ridicule poisons fear.

But the shots were already ringing out and they were coming towards you.

" Okay," breathed Miguel, "Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen, try to immobilise them. The husband is easy to neutralise, just hit his jet-pack and take away his weapon. For the bride, try to take her towards the river, if you make her fall into the water she will start to sink with all her layers of clothes and the weight of her dress. Pull her by her veil if you have to, but go ahead. The first one to do even a little unintentional damage again will end up with his back broken like a glow stick, got it?"

"I don't take orders," Hobie refused.

"Hobie, you take care of the bridegroom with Gwen," Miguel continued as if he wasn't listening to him any more, moving closer to you. He tossed him his multidimensional cell device, as if he was worth reaching for.

"Why does he only come and ask me things once a day, as if I were a vitamin?" Hobie huffs before launching himself into the air.

"Oh, you know, that's what we love about him, his boundless empathy," remarked Gwen before shooting a web and leaving in her turn.

"Why do I always get the less interesting ones," said Pavitr before leaving as well.

Miguel turned to you, taking off his mask. His brown hair was dishevelled and he didn't even put his hand through it before ordering:

"Sit.

You'd have liked to contradict him, to say that you could definitely wait until you got back to HQ and received treatment there rather than slowing down the mission when you'd literally been called in as backup. And here you were, the backup turned liability in the situation, so contradicting him wasn't really in your plans.

You backed away, leaning against the wall and letting yourself slide with difficulty against the bricks as you tried to put as little weight as possible on your damaged leg. With a muffled whimper, you reached the ground, stretching your bad leg further as you bent the other. You took off your mask in turn, no longer able to hide your expressions of pain. The sensation you'd had at first had been sharp, but now it felt like your thigh was on fire and the wound was licking at your skin like flames.

Miguel came forward and knelt beside you. His gaze was riveted on your thigh, and when his gloved hand came to rest beside the wound, you stiffened your back and couldn't help breathing in through clenched teeth. His brown eyes looked up into yours, watching your expressions through the wild strands of his hair. But it was also simply a look for permission to continue his gestures.

"If it hurts too much, use your mask," he said, his eyes returning to the wound.

The mask? In what way would the mask be- ah, so... You watched your mask, hesitating for a moment. What Miguel meant by that suggestion was biting your mask. Since you were probably going to grit your teeth, you might as well not hurt yourself too much and tear them up by biting into something. You wavered at the thought, preferring not to damage any more of your costume. You'd already dented it with your punctured thigh, but ripping your mask on top of that? No, preferably not.

His thumb felt your skin, and he pressed down on a spot that threw you so hard that your hand immediately grabbed his wrist. You were breathless, almost nauseous from the pain, and you opened your frowning eyes again to meet Miguel's gaze, which had stopped all movement of his hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes and nose stinging with the tears that threatened to spill from the pain. He breathed, his eyes falling on your hand, then straightened towards yours:

"If you don't let me touch it, I'll pin your hands down with my webs, is that clear?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you let out a shaky breath and removed your hand, which seemed ridiculously small compared to his.

"Well, the bullet's really not deep, so it should be fine."

Honestly, you didn't know whether it was better for you to know what was going to happen, and you were somehow grateful that he wasn't detailing his operation to you, even though he was doing it mainly out of lack of time.

His two hands came to grip your thigh to hold it steady, he gave you one last look, then lowered his head close to your thigh, and you saw a flash of white gleam from his long, sharp fangs before they sank into your skin. A strangled cry drowned in your throat as you felt them ooze something wet, liquid seeping into your skin and blood.

Miguel's bites weren't just poisonous, they could also be incredibly helpful in situations like these, where they acted as both a mild painkiller and a kind of antidote that accelerated the healing process. And although the painkiller aspect wasn't performing well enough for your liking, you were still quite happy not to feel like you were in complete agony.

The sensation of his lips on your flesh, however, previously drowned out by the sensations of all your aching nerves, became much clearer. Their softness grazing your skin with more intimacy than he was aware of.

He hadn't bitten down on the wound, to prevent the bullet from moving any further, and you took a deep breath when he moved away, pulling his fangs out of your skin. His tongue cleaned them, and he glanced at you as he did so, just to make sure you were all right.

Please tell me I haven't become a big walking tomato, you thought. Now apparently the most important phase would begin: extracting the bullet. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, still feeling pain, then nodded to allow him to continue.

He bent down again, coming dangerously close to the wound, to your raw flesh where warm blood was dripping. The bullet wasn't far from the surface, luckily the suit had played a large part in cushioning it.

He breathed in lightly, then put his lips to the wound. A current of electricity ran through your body as all sorts of sensations mixed together in one place. The burn on your thigh had just met the slightly sticky wetness of Miguel's saliva and the warmth of his mouth and lips as he began to draw.

You realised what Miguel was doing, he was sucking the bullet out of your flesh. His tongue flicked lightly around the impact, and his fangs, still a little elongated, lightly traced your skin.

Your breath was erratic, and you tried to stabilise it, but the sensations seemed so extreme that the task was complicated. The thing about spider-senses is that your senses are heightened, so the slightest movement of Miguel's lips, tongue or fangs sent shivers through your body. He drew back to spit out the excess saliva and blood that had mingled before coming back and sucking harder. You could feel the bullet coming out little by little, still biting your lip fiercely until you felt a metallic taste, and were insistently reconsidering the choice of biting into your mask. So you switched to the side of your index finger, biting it as your frown of pain intensified.

Then Miguel pressed his lips a little harder, and your body had to grab hold of something. Then, inadvertently and with many mental 'oh no's attacking your being as soon as the gesture was made, you grabbed Miguel's hair.

His eyes immediately looked up at yours, wide, questioning the gesture, and the sight made you feel as if your heart had fallen into the warmth of your stomach. His brown eyes had a flash of red and peered through his long lashes, their colour blending perfectly with his blood-smeared cheeks.

You were so desperate for a foothold that your body hadn't given a second thought to what it should be gripping. He just froze, for a few seconds that seemed as long as minutes. You calmed your breathing, taking advantage of the respite from his movements to relax a little. Worried, you looked up at him again, dreading his reaction.

But nothing, no 'what the hell are you doing', no 'stop that immediately', no 'that's inappropriate', no reprimand, nothing. Your fingers in his hair relaxed, they were much softer than you'd imagined, but your hand didn't leave its place. You felt both his hands tighten around your thigh, making you swallow hard. He just gave you one last look before flicking his tongue around the wound and continuing his suction.

Your fingers reflexively gripped his hair again and Miguel let out a low rumble from his throat that vibrated up your thigh and into the bullet. The sensation was such that you suddenly turned your head to the side, closing your eyes tightly until you saw stars. The tears that had welled up started falling, determined.

Miguel's hot breath washed over your bare, rosy skin, turning visibly purple with the repeated suctions Miguel left in his path. His normal teeth were biting into your skin around the bullet to create the pressure that would eject it.

You locked your fingers in his hair again, and felt his hands tighten their grip on your thigh as a low hmpf vibrated against your skin again. Then he drew in harder, and pressed his teeth in deeper, and you felt your finger beading with blood as your teeth pierced your skin.

And then, at last, you felt the bullet come out. A deep sigh poured from your lungs as you eased your hand from his hair to wipe away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. He stepped back, his eyes looking into yours, his cheeks and nose all covered in blood, and between his reddened teeth was the crushed bullet.

You looked at him like this, your cheeks heating up violently. He spat the bullet out to the side, then looked back at your thigh. He breathed heavily, clenching his jaw as he let go of your thigh, bringing one of his hands up to wipe his cheek with the back of it.

"Put some webs on it, that should be enough to last us until we get to HQ."

His eyes scanned yours, tired, reddened, a tear still running down them. He wiped it away with the back of his index finger, letting it fall onto the fabric of his suit. The gesture was gentle, almost like a caress as his finger gently traced your cheek.

"You did great, muñeca", he said, his voice soft, softer than you'd ever heard it.

The nickname gave you a warm, soft feeling in your lower stomach. He straightened up, his mask in hand, the other stretched out towards you, ready to be seized.

No comment on the pulled hair? You were afraid he'd mention it, or were you afraid he wouldn't mention it at all.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

You looked at your thigh for a moment, then did as he instructed and pulled a few webs over the still open wound. Then, looking up, you grabbed Miguel's hand to help you up. You breathed through your teeth, the pain was still there, but now that the bullet had been dislodged and Miguel's pain-killing venom was coursing through your veins, the ache was lessened.

You were swaying slightly and Miguel's reflex was to place his hand on your waist to steady you. He gave a retentive tt-tt.

"Try to stick to the webs, do as little walking or running as possible," he said before putting his mask back on, which you in turn did. "Ready?"

You bobbed your head, putting your weight on your good leg, "ready.

With a nod, you both took off.

Soon you found Pavitr who had managed to catch the husband who, on closer inspection, had one of his eyes as white as a half-cooked egg. Perhaps this explained his random aiming. In any case, he was huffing and puffing like a rhinoceros.

"It's about time," Pavitr yawned, "your leg?"

You gave him a thumbs up.

" Where are Gwen and Hobie? " Miguel asked.

"Further down the river like you said."

"Well, you can go back to HQ, we'll take care of the rest- can you go on?" he said, turning to you.

"Yep, the only thing that could stop me would be myself."

"Was that the philosophical moment?" asked Pavitr. "That deserves a few lyrical songs, doesn't it?"

"It's pathetic," admitted Miguel as he left.

You followed him, Pavitr entering a portal to return to 928.

"Are you trying to destroy our pseudo-friendship?

"Pseudo-friendship?" he chuckles, "you mean how I removed that bullet with my teeth, and you-"

"Ah, the amnesia's getting to me!" you cut in, continuing along the road faster than him until you reach the river where, hanging from a lamppost on the quayside, the bride was dripping wet and stripped of her weapon. She seemed simply stunned, and Gwen and Hobie were standing in front of her, still tense from their fight.

You approached the two lads, smiling at Gwen who had finally succeeded in her training.

"Good job!" you said, raising your fist to her height, which she banged in a friendly manner, doing the same for Hobie.

"Hobie?" called Miguel in the distance.

"Don't move," said the latter, "it's like with bears, if you don't do anything they'll leave."

"This is the right way," affirmed Gwen.

"Where's the weapon?" asked Miguel, who had finally reached your level.

"It fell into the water," he replied simply.

"What?" asked Miguel.

"Relax, I'm just messing with you. It's behind you," he said, pointing with his chin at the wet weapon on the ground.

"So, how did it go?"

"I wouldn't go into details," Hobie sighed.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" Asked Miguel.

"I don't want to listen to you; malicious criticism hurts my self-esteem and praise leaves me sceptical."

Miguel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, murmuring "Voy a matarlos."

"I hope one day you'll understand what I've just said," he whispered, climbing up the lamppost to unhook the bride and place her in another multi-dimensional cell.

"Did you hear anything?" you asked ironically.

"Oh no, I didn't hear anything, did you?" questioned Gwen to Hobie.

"I've got an ear infection."

You smiled at this conversation, watching Miguel fiddle with his watch.

"How's your leg, by the way?" asked Hobie.

"I've still got the bullet, I'm going to be ringing airport buzzers for the rest of my life."

"Huh?" exclaimed Gwen.

"Just kidding, everything's fine."

"Why do you have to be like that? In situations like this, 'I'm fine' is the standard response," she huffed.

"I'm on a strict diet of misplaced enthusiasm and gut-wrenching regret." You affirmed.

"Huh huh, diets are bad," Hobie remarked. "It's just another way for capitalism to prove that their system is superior to you."

"Well, come on, let's go home," Miguel called.

His eyes fell on you for a moment, and in the space of that glance the vision of his crimson eyes, his fangs glistening with your blood smeared across his cheeks came back to your mind. You entered the portal, and soon enough, as you got into the lift, the horizon formed as far as the eye could see, with towers sunk like daggers into the belly of the sky, and so high that, from sleep, you could plunge into the clouds.

And now you couldn't think of anything else but Miguel.

part two >> late night training

#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #astv miguel #miguel astv #astv #astv x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman

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wosoamazing · 1 month

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Too Late To Be Fair

Warnings: death (caused by drunk driver), mentions of emotional abuse (R as a child), mentions of drinking and drunks, implications of self doubt and associated things, wishing someone would die. Please let me know if anything else.

Note: Grace is a fake player, due to previous ideas and maybe future ideas I had to make a player up... she does some things none of the girls would ever do....

A/N: Story inspired by Pray (Jessie Murph) & Mansion (NF) - and other things but I listened to these songs and I was like ooo good story idea. There probs will be a part 2. I hope you like it - also I know I said one of the McFoord fics would be out next but um yeah...

“Y/N We’re sorry to inform you but your Dad was in a car accident he was hit by a drunk driver” you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, you dad the drunk being hit by a drunk driver. Everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N that’s not very appropriate,” Grace said, before others death stared her, clearly not knowing your situation, of course you were going to blow, especially at her, the thing you had wished for, for so long, finally happened, yet just after you cut him off, so it didn’t matter, it didn’t mean you could have an easier childhood, it was just another way of the universe punishing you. Waiting until you had moved out, cut your ties and in the spotlight, to finally kill him. Almost exactly a year since you cut him off, won the trial, got the restraining order, the one which he protested, causing the gruelling 3 day trial, to decide whether it was needed or not.

“Oh, sorry we don’t all have perfect little lives with perfect Mummies and Daddies, some of us actually had a shit childhood, faced real world problems, no rich bitch problems, oh Mummy and Daddy told me to pick up some rubbish, oh my life is shit they abuse me” you were dragged out of the locker room and into an empty physio room by Leah, Beth, Katie, Caitlin, and Steph who all sent you a glare when the door had shut, “Oh like she didn’t deserve it,” they all couldn’t but help let out a smile. There was an awkwardness in the room, as the girls all looked between each other not knowing how to approach this.

“You guys can all go, I’ve got this, thank you though,” Leah spoke, breaking the silence, everyone left except Beth, but Leah didn’t mind. You and Beth had a very close relationship, you had been close friends since your grassroots team, Beth helped you through the year of your life you realised you were gay, and then when you crushed on your now girlfriend, your then national Captain. Beth felt bad the year you told her about your Dad, she knew something was off but you never told anyone, barely anyone stills knows the full story, but that day Beth and you promised that you would be there for each other forever, and that was true, she had been there during your trial and so much more, and you were there for her when Dan broke up with her, Beth was really your rock and you were hers. Beth moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room, giving you both space, whilst also being there in case you needed it.

“Are you okay?” Leah couldn't find the right words, but she knew deep down the wrong words were what you needed her to say, you weren’t going to break, and release it all otherwise.

“Of course I’m not fucking okay Leah,” you looked up at her, she hadn’t even flinch at your words, instead she pulled you in for a hug. Which caused hot angry tears to fall from your eyes “Why now, why couldn’t it have been a year ago, 3 years, hell any time after I was 12. It’s unfair, its fucking unfair,” you paused, and Leah slowly slid her back down against the wall, bringing you down with her, your legs either side of hers as you sat in her lap. Your eyes connected with her soft kind caring blue eyes, and you could see how her lips formed a soft kind reassuring smile. You broke, big fat tears streamed down your face, as you sobbed, Leah gently pulled your body forward, so you were no longer sitting up, but leaning on her, she placed your head into the crock of her neck, before moving her arm to wrap around you lower body, her other hand was placed on your back, her thumb moving up and down, as she whispered reassuring words in your ear.

“W-why now, when I’ve already lived the hard life, when I’ve been through all that shit. When I’m already screwed up, when I already have trust issues, when I already doubt myself everyday, so much so that I do it unconsciously” you sobbed into her neck.

“I know baby, it's not fair, and it's not right. But I’m here now, and I’ve got you.”

“I-I I used to wish he would die, I used to imagine cops showing up at the door when it was later than he used to come home, them telling me and me not being upset. I used to hope he just wouldn't come back from work trips. I used to imagine people asking me why I wasn’t upset when he died. I used to think of the fact that he was an alcoholic so he wouldn't get a kidney or liver transplant, unless it was a directed donation. I had to say yes, how could I say no if I was a match, but how could I say yes. You know how fucked up you feel when you think that stuff, you know how messed up I thought I was, but that was all his doing. It's just unfair.”

___

You had calmed back down and decided to go see all the girls again, the only problem was that no one had realised what song was playing in the locker room, too deep in conversation to be aware of it.

Waking up but wishing that you don’t. It’s something that I pray you’ll never know.

A song that connected with you so deeply sent you back over the edge, and you quickly spun on your feet and speed walked away, Beth followed behind you.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking McCabe” you girlfriend yelled.

“Wha?” the room had gone quiet and attention was drawn to the music, “Oh fuck, shit, sorry, we werent listening to it, its just automatically come on. I promise, I wasn't trying to be funny, I wouldn't do anything like that to Y/N”

Leah just turned around packing your bag and hers, “Tell Jonas we’re going home.”

“Sorry” Katie yelled as Leah went down the hall.

Leah found you sitting in the middle of one of the side hallways. Beth’s arms were wrapped around you and your body was shaking.

“Come on baby, let's go home.” She said as she placed a hand on your back, Beth slowly released her arms around you, which Leah quickly replaced with hers.

_____

“What’s on your mind? I know it's something more than your Dad” your girlfriend said as she sat down on the bed next to you, legs crossed and leaning back against the headboard. You had just arrived home.

“It's stupid.” you sighed, looking away from her eyes.

“I promise you, it's not stupid, it's your feelings, and your feelings are valid” she said, voice unwavering before pulling you into her lap.

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “What do you mean baby?” “I don't know, I just feel like something is going to happen, like something is going to happen and you’re going to realise that this was all a mistake and leave. You’re going to get sick of constantly being second guessed for no reason just because I’m messed up, because I don’t believe someone could actually love me this much. You’re going to get sick of me, and all my insecurities, ” she pulled your body into hers, your head finding a place in the crock of her neck, tears started to fall from your eyes, causing her neck to become wet.

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much, and I promise, there is not another shoe that will drop, we have been through so much together, we got through those 9 months together, we got through the trial together, and I promise we will get through whatever life throws at us together, forever, we will go through the highs and lows together. I love you so much, and I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else. I will never hurt you, I promise.”

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc #leah williamson x reader

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atydblack · 1 month

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trouvaille

regulus black x slytherin!reader

masterlist

this is part one of an ongoing series! think there will be 3 parts in total <3 no cws as this is gonna be pure angst

Being James Potter's younger sister inquired a lot to live up to. James was the perfect Gryffindor student who succeeded in all his classes, exuded confidence with his every word, had soulmates for friends and an even better girlfriend.

You, however, were almost the opposite.

You were sorted into Slytherin in your first year and although they tried their best to hide it, you could see the disappointment in James and his friends eyes as you walked over to the Slytherin table. Your parents were still accepting but there was some clear favouritism in the family, no doubt. You did well in classes however didn't ever see yourself becoming a prefect like James or being top of any classes.

You sat in potions next to your best friend, Lara. Her straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes opposed my black curly hair and dark brown eyes. You had always been jealous of her, she was the type to catch everyone's eye when she walked into a room while you just trudged in behind her.

"Do you have idea what this question means?" Lara asks you, huffing slightly as she rested her chin in her hand.

"You really think I'd have the answer if you didn't?" You joked. You glanced up at Slughorn who had started dozing off behind his desk and you smirked. "Look."

Lara mirrored your smirk and you both dropped your quills on the desk to turn around and start talking with your friends instead.

"I'm bored out of my mind." Lara groaned to your other friend Freya sat behind you.

"Slughorn says if we don't get these all finished, he's gonna give us all detention until we get them done." Freya rolled her eyes, but you could clearly see that she'd almost finished.

"Have you got the number to 42?" You asked her with wide eyes, trying to sway her in to letting you copy her. "And 43, 44, 45... and the rest?"

"Merlin your voices are retched." A voice came from a couple desks to your right, none other than Enoch Wilkes. He was a tall boy with sleeked back greasy hair and a superiority complex due to his family heritage.

"What's your problem, Wilkes?" Lara shot at him.

"I'm trying to actually do my work but all I can hear is Potter's squeaky voice in my ear." Wilkes replied with a grunt.

"She's just as unbearable as Saint Potter except dumber." Icarus Nott joined in from next to him.

"What did you just say?" You spat, standing to your feet and making your way over to them with your wand gripped tightly in your palm, willing to do anything to stand up for your older brother. There was a third boy sat with them, Regulus Black.

Regulus had always been quiet, however he never failed to be part of the horrid Slytherins who gave your house a bad name and thought they were elite causing them to look down on everyone else. He had only made a few sly comments in past years, but everyone knew his thoughts on muggle blood.

You were also a pureblood, but would never allow yourself to feel any prejudice towards anyone else.

You couldn't deny that Regulus was attractive. He looked a lot like Sirius... however his facial features were softer. His dark black hair fell onto his forehead effortlessly and his green eyes complimented his pale skin.

"You heard me." Nott mocked you, not moving from his seat. You had gained a small audience as everyone's head turned towards you.

"What an embarrassment having a Gryffindor blood traitor for a brother." Wilkes joked, not backing down. "At least Black had the right idea and cut his off, what's stopping you from doing the same?"

"Y/N, sit down." Freya begged from across the classroom, not wanting to get either of you in trouble. "He's not worth it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." You smirked, holding up your wand and pointing it right at him.

You were closest to Sirius out of all your brothers friends. He had moved in with your family two years ago after he left his family and you'd always been there for him, especially during everything that happened with his brother Regulus. Regulus was clearly a lost soul, strung along on the same ideologies as his parents however he would send letters to Sirius every once and a while but continued to act like he didn't exist at school.

"Leave it, Wilkes." Regulus muttered. Funny this is the first time he had ever attempted to stick up for you and it was only to save his own back.

"What's she talking about, Black?" Nott glanced at him, but Regulus' eyes were set on yours as you stared each other down. You knew you would never actually say anything to expose Regulus as doing so would only hurt Sirius too, but you could sense how scared he was that you'd open your mouth.

"She's a freak." Wilkes chuckled. "Just like her brother."

This sent you over the edge as everything turned red. You dropped your wand to the floor and quickly punched Wilkes square in the nose.

"Olive!" Lara shouted from across the classroom.

You felt a pair of strong arms pulling you back as you attempted to go in for another hit.

"What on earth is going on?!" Slughorn announced and you all froze. You turned around to see it was in fact Regulus' arms that were holding you back and a brush grew on your cheeks. "Black, Potter - sit down at once!"

You both complied, with a guilty expression you made your way back over to your desk and your friends gave you an apologetic look.

"I expect to see you both after class." Slughorn continued.

"But sir-!" Nott shouted, attempting to stick up for Regulus.

"I don't want to hear it." Slughorn quickly cut him off earning a scoff from the boy.

The lesson felt like it took hours to end but you felt slightly ill in your stomach when everyone else was packing up to leave but you and Regulus sat firmly in your seats.

"We'll be in the great hall; I'll save you a seat." Lara smiled at you before her and Freya took off out the classroom and to dinner.

"Both of you have detention with Filch every night after dinner starting tomorrow." Slughorn mumbled, uninterested. You scoffed as you were way too used to detention with Filch now.

When you were dismissed, you quickly stood to your feet and attempted to leave ahead off Regulus to avoid any awkwardness. You began walking down the corridor, ready to rant to James about what had occured.

"Potter!" Regulus called from behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned on your feet with a confused expression on your face. He approached you slowly and timidly before speaking. "I-uh. I wanted to thank you for not saying anything about Sirius and I."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Sirius." You mutter before turning back around and leaving him there dumbfounded.

You reach the great hall and make a B line for your brother and his friends. James smirked at you as you approach him with a sour expression on your face before sitting in between him and Sirius, your green robes standing out in the sea of red.

"What's up with you, Y/N?" Sirius smirked before patting me on the top of your head.

"I've got detention again this week." You huff, crossing your arms and leaning them on the table.

"How do you manage to get yourself into so much trouble?" Lily quizzed you, a humorous look on her face that mirrored the rest of the group.

"She takes after me, that's why." James joked but you only rolled your eyes in response.

"Yeah, apart from the brains." You sigh, leaning your head on Sirius' shoulder. You glanced over at the Slytherin table and quickly caught eyes with Regulus, who must have been staring at you. You kept eye contact for a short moment before he turned his head and acted like it never happened. You furrow your eyebrows and listed your head once again. "At least I'm the better-looking sibling." You continue, causing everyone to laugh.

"Keep dreaming, kiddo." James rolled his eyes.

"Go on then, what did you do this time?" Remus questions you.

"I punched Enoch Wilkes in the nose during potions." You say smugly causing everyone to laugh once again.

"I would advise you that violence isn't the answer, however we can make some exceptions for people like that." Remus smirked.

"Tell me about it, they're horrid." You scoff before stealing some food from James plate. "No offence obviously, Sirius."

"Go ahead," Sirius chuckled. "I had to endure it for most of my life."

#regulus black angst #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #regulus black fluff #regulus angst #sirius black x reader #marauders x reader

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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 months

Text

Turmoil of events...

This update might be a bit all over the place. I'm still ill, but I had a spark to write, even if it doesn't make much sense at all.

Credit to @alotofpockets for the idea on this update; I am very grateful for her help!

⟫ part 1

After being sick for five days, it became apparent that having the flu was not enjoyable. You spent most of the week confined to your bed, wrapped in blankets, with a noticeable pile of used tissues beside you. You felt cold one moment and hot the next, shivering uncontrollably.

You had been feeling completely miserable. However, the good news was that you were starting to feel better just in time for the training session ahead of the away game against Bristol.

Although, your team's mothers held differing opinions on the matter.

"Maybe you should take a few more days to recover" Beth suggests, shaking her head. "I still don't think this is a good idea" she adds.

"Why? I feel better now" It's not a complete lie. You do feel better, although you're still slightly sniffling and your head is pounding a little bit too much. Overall, you did feel better than previously.

"I just don't think it's a good idea" Beth says, pursing her lips and turns to look at Viv, seeking her input.

The Dutch shakes her head in agreement and adds, "There's no harm in taking extra time to feel better. You don't want to push yourself and make yourself worse" she tells you.

You try your best to resist the urge to inwardly groan at the two of them, "Seriously? Come on. I'll be fine! I have to get back into the squad-- You know that the nations league games are coming up soon so I need to get minutes" You know that it's important to play; you can't be sidelined instead.

"There'll be plenty of chances for that" Viv tells you with a frown, but she can't help but be concerned about how much you've been pushing yourself.

"I can't be sidelined, I need minutes!" You exclaim before you storm off to finish getting ready for training.

"That kid is..." Beth begins to speak.

"Stubborn" Viv finishes the blondes' sentence.

Beth can't help but chuckle slightly, "Well, that's one word for it now, huh?" she jokes.

"If you're talking about Y/N, then she's definitely stubborn," Laura chips in, amusedly, as she appears in the kitchen. "What happened this time?" she wonders.

"Y/N wants to go to training apparently" Beth exhales a sigh and shakes her head. "It's a bad idea" she states.

"It's definitely a bad idea" Laura replies in agreement with the blonde, she knew how stubborn you could be at times.

"Well, hopefully Jonas will realise that's not ready to be playing in the game yet" Viv tells them as she exhales a sigh.

Apparently, Y/N had done an excellent job of persuading Jonas and the coaching staff that she was fit to play. Therefore, it was not surprising when she secured a spot in the starting eleven for the upcoming game.

This game is significant as Viv is set to return to the pitch, being subbed on during the second half.

"Oh dear" Beth mumbles as she shook her head.

Viv exhales a sigh, "This is not good" she states.

"I'm glad to see that Y/N is feeling better. It'll be good to have her in the starting lineup," Steph says as she looks over to where Kyra and Y/N are joking around on the bus.

"Except that she's not better. We told her she should take more time, but you know what Y/N is like..." Beth remarks.

"Stubborn" Steph pipes in, amusedly.

Beth and Viv both nod in agreement with the woman.

Jen furrows her eyebrows, "You mean she's still sick? I can't see this going well then" she confesses.

"It really isn't going to" Beth exhales a sigh.

"We can't get involved though and decide things for her, or she'd be upset with us for that" Viv states knowingly.

"Yeah, you're right there, Viv" Beth replies in agreement with her girlfriend as she looks over at you, realising that she couldn't say anything and sway the decision or it would backfire on her.

"Cheater!" Y/N shouts aloud, glaring at the australian girl sat opposite her. "Stop cheating!" You protest.

"How am I a cheat? You can't even cheat at Uno!" Kyra delcares with a smug smirk on her face.

"Easy there Y/N, it's just a game now" Laura states, amusedly, although she isn't playing, she's joined all of you on the coach to the game to watch it.

"Nah! Kyra's cheating!" You continue to scowl at the girl while crossing your arms.

"How did I?" Kyra's smug look was starting to annoy you even more.

"You know you did-- You looked at my cards!" You break out into a sudden loud cough as you get worked up, shooting further glares at the 21-year-old.

"You want some water for that cough?" Laura wonders, concerned.

"I'm fine!" You shake your head in protest.

"I thought you said you were better--" Kyra's words are cut off.

"I am, I'm totally fine. It's just a tickle!" You protest, shaking your head as you try and avoid coughing again.

The rest of the girls' don't seem so convinced about it as Kyra and you continue to play uno, under the watchful eye of the rest of the girls.

"Kyra! Stop cheating!" You shout aloud, fed up off the girl constantly cheating with the game and trying to look at your cards.

"Less of the bickering now children" Katie chips in as she laughs, shaking her head from where she sits beside Caitlin.

"There's only one actual child here" You remark, continuing to cross your arms and scowl at the Aussie girl in front of you.

"What's going on?" Alessia wonders, glancing at the two of you confused as she sits in front with Vic.

"Kyra is being a massive cheat!" You exclaim aloud, pointing your finger in the girls' direction accusingly.

"Sure, go and tattle. That's real mature of you kid" Kyra states, smirking cockily.

"Says the 21-year-old whos' acting immature" You remark as the girls all watch you and Kyra bicker amusedly.

"You're being dramatic, Y/N. It's just a game now" Kyra states doing everything in her that she can to wind you up.

"KYRA!" You lunge towards the older girl.

"Y/N!" Kyra shouts back.

"Girls, they're fighting again. Might want to sort that out?" Katie jokes glancing between Beth, Viv and Steph as she watches the two of you almost attempt to wrestle with eachother.

"Kyra, cut it out. Stop winding Y/N up" Steph scolds the younger Aussie girl.

"Kyra, stop winding Y/N up" Steph scolds the younger Aussie girl.

"Y/N you need to calm down, it's just a game. Take it easy" Beth scolds, shaking her head. "Viv, would you talk to her? She'll listen to you" she turns to her girlfriend for help.

"Y/N" Viv scolds you with a knowing firm look

"Sorry" Both you and Kyra apologise after being told off like 2 misbehaved kids, at least you had an excuse that you were an actual kid.

"Handled it like a pro there, girls" Katie jokes with them.

"Well, we've got a few years experience, eh?" Beth remarks to the Irish women.

"It's like I'm permanently babystting" Steph huffs and rolls her eyes. "Caitlin, it's your turn next!" she insists to the fellow Aussie, while the rest of the girls just laugh.

At first the warm-up is going successful, you run with the rest of the girls to warm up and try and obtain the energy needed, you're feeling good and motivated about the game.

It's going well until it's not...

You can't help but wobble slightly as there's a light pounding in the back of your head, you just put it down to dehydration instead rather than the after-effects of illness instead.

"You alright, Y/N?" Lia notices you stumble slightly and frowns.

"I... I'm good" You're crouching over slightly as you feel out of breath but you try and play it off like its' nothing instead.

"You're sure?" Lia checks in as she's not too keen to give up on the conversation yet.

"Oh yeah I'm great, I'm totally fine" You insist as you try and push off the terrible feeling that you felt looming; You couldn't afford to miss this game due to illness.

"Y/N..." Lia still doesn't look totally convinced, but she knows better than to try and push you.

"I'm fine, really Lia... Uh huh, yep I'm cool" You nod and quickly run off in the opposite direction to avoid any further questions and concerns.

"Okay, kid. This is it, your time to shine!" Katie's enthusiastic voice comes from behind you in the lineup. "Are you ready for this?" she asks.

You were reluctant to acknowledge that your headache was intensifying. The throbbing sensation in your temple caused you to tightly shut your eyes, and the noise emanating from the crowd only made it worse.

It's worth mentioning that your throat feels somewhat scratchy again. However, you have to play in this game, so you pretend it's nothing and that you're fine.

"I was born ready, let's go!" You cheer and try to be like your usual upbeat self, but never mind how terrible you still feel.

"Let's go girls!" Kim exclaims, leading the team onto the pitch alongside the Bristol team.

As you walk out to the pitch with the rest of your team, you try to keep up the facade of looking happy. You attempt to block out the pounding feeling in your temple, knowing that you only have to make it through 90 minutes before you can finally flop down and fall asleep once again.

As soon as the whistle blows and the game starts, you get your first touch on the ball and begin racing all over the pitch. Despite fighting off the flu, you don't give Bristol a chance to gain possession of the ball.

It all happened too quickly for you to realise what is happening at that moment. The team is 2-1 ahead of Bristol when everything went wrong.

You went to intercept the ball, a simple move that you had done plenty of times. Suddenly, as you got your toe on the ball, ready to pass it in the direction of Alessia, you felt a sudden pop in your knee, followed by a sharp pain that felt excruciating.

"Agh!" You scream as you fall down onto the pitch in agony.

"Y/N!" Beth is the first to crouch beside you, concern spread across her face. "What's happened?" she questions, worriedly.

The sound of the whistle echoes through the stadium as the girls rush to your side to check on you; the noise is suddenly silent as the crowd of fans watches on in despair as Arsenal's wonder kid falls down on the pitch.

"What hurts-- What's happened?" Katie asks, concerningly as she joins you on the other side.

The tears well up in your eyes as you clutch your knee to stop the pain, "My knee... It's my knee!" You exclaim, letting out a sound of whimpering. "I heard it... I heard the pop!" You add.

"It's okay, Y/N. Don't panic; everything is going to be fine" Viv says as she quickly comes to your side. She had been subbed on to replace Alessia, but you couldn't help but feel awful. This was supposed to be Viv's comeback, her return to the pitch after her ACL injury, and instead, you selfishly took the spotlight away from her.

You could see the girls exchanging looks as they signalled for medics. It's at that moment that you realise you have made a grave mistake. Even though nobody spoke, it was clear that the situation was not good.

#woso x reader #arsenal x reader #woso #wosos fanfics #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #meadema x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #awfc x reader #engwnt x reader #woso fic

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writer-in-theory · 1 year

Text

A Cat Named Eddie — part two

part one part two part three

Eddie half-expected it to blow over.

It was cruel, sure, but it wasn't like worse hadn't been said before. He hadn't forgotten the words they used to throw at each other in school, or even the slight off-center teasing the entire group participated in.

Steve had crossed a line first, he was just readjusting the center. That was all.

Except it hadn't blown over, and now things were weird. Eddie hadn't realized how often he saw Steve until that presence disappeared entirely. When Steve dropped off the kids for D&D, he stayed firmly in the car, or sometimes even sent Nancy or Jonathan to do it instead. There weren't anymore night when Steve would come over with a pack of beer and and some cigarettes, whispering for him to not tell Henderson he was smoking again like it was some tightly held secret. Steve still came to movie nights in the Wheeler basement—if only because the others would notice if he wasn't there—but instead of sitting next to each other whispering about the cool new effects or how they would've better handled a horror situation, they sat on opposite sides of the basement.

It sucked, frankly.

"What the hell did you do to Steve?" Dustin came charging at the van the second he pulled back up to the trailer. How long had the kid been waiting there for him?

Eddie groaned, looking over at Dustin as dramatically as he could manage. "Isn't he supposed to be working on your language?"

"Eddie!"

"I didn't do anything to Harrington," Eddie told him, though the expression on Dustin's face showed just how unconvinced he was. "He started it."

He winced at the way it sounded, already anticipating the unimpressed look Dustin was giving him. "Really, Eddie? He started it? What are you, four?"

"Hey! This is adult stuff, you'll understand when you're older."

"Doesn't sound like it. Sounds more like you're in e—"

"Henderson, nothing happened between Steve and I. I dunno what he said to make you think that but we'll be fine."

"He's moping, Eddie," Dustin practically whined. "It hasn't been this bad since Nancy. Can't you just apologize for whatever he thinks you did so you can kiss and make up?"

"Who says I did anything?"

"I think you both did something stupid," Dustin corrected, crossing his arms over his chest. It was alarming how quickly he was beginning to mimic Steve's mannerisms. "Just fix it."

And sure, maybe the kid had a point. He was one of the smartest people Eddie had ever met, so of course he did. That didn't make it any easier to consider how to do such a thing. It was easy to say 'fix it', but a whole lot harder to figure out what to fix in the first place.

So it was another week until anything else happened. Another week of no Steve, another week of not being able to sleep and realizing he'd been relying on phone calls to the other man to lull him back to sleep when he had a nightmare. Even when it was Steve who called, it always seemed like Eddie could get back to sleep much better than before.

Three weeks after the incident, Eddie stepped foot back inside Family Video.

"Get out," Robin immediately spoke from the center counter, not looking up from the tapes she was organizing to place back on the shelves.

"Missed you too, Buckley," Eddie tried to tease, but the look Robin gave him was harsh, cold in a way he wasn't sure the band nerd had ever been capable of before. "Okay, I get it, I hurt Harrington's feelings."

Robin glanced over at a door on the back wall, maybe the break room, before she looked back at him. "You didn't just hurt his feelings, asshole."

"He was—" Eddie started, voice raising a higher pitch before he told himself to relax. Instead, he leaned over the counter to close their proximity. "What if Harrington hasn't really changed as much as you think he has?"

Robin blinked, wordlessly watching him for a few seconds. Then she scoffed, rolled her eyes, then refocused on the tapes scattered around her. "I think you're the one who's stuck in high school, Eddie."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You're so focused on him being a jock that you're totally missing the obvious. I mean come on, I thought Harrington was the biggest dingus I'd ever be friends with but you might've beaten him."

"I hate to ask this..." Eddie started, lifting his eyes to look to the ceiling as though the answer might be plastered there. "But what's the obvious?"

Robin looked up at him, really looked at him, then shook her head. "I cannot wait until you two figure this one out."

Eddie had no idea what the fuck Robin meant by that, and it certainly didn't get any clearer as the days passed.

It was impossible not to linger on it, though. He laid in bed unable to sleep, just thinking about what the hell she was trying to tell him. He ended up trying to replay the last day he'd spoken to Steve, tried to figure out where it all went so wrong, how all of this ended up pinned on him when Steve was the one who—

He walked into Family Video that day. Robin and Steve were talking. He eavesdropped. Okay, not the best start.

Steve said Eddie had sat on his lap. And bit him. And slept with him.

No, he said they slept in the same bed.

It still didn't make sense. All of it still sounded like the setup to a bad joke, like the second Eddie acknowledged it Steve would jump out with the 'I gotcha'. None of it made sense, because of there was no 'gotcha' then what was the point of saying all of that to Robin? To the kids? Why make everyone think they were closer than they were? Why bring up all of these things right as Eddie figured out he kind of liked the idea of laying in bed with Steve Harrington?

Eddie wanted to scream.

Instead, he got out of bed, tossed on a jacket, and started walking. It was just beginning to get colder, enough that he needed to curl his shoulders inward the more he walked. There was no destination in mind, though he ended up somewhere anyway.

He ended up by the Harrington house, of course.

It would've been easier to turn around and walk away, pretend he had never showed up there. But Eddie was tired of running, and maybe this would at least prove something to the both of them (what that was, he still wasn't sure). At the very least, maybe the strange ache in his chest that hadn't gone away since he heard Steve's words weeks ago would ease enough that he could breathe freely again. So he knocked.

Steve looked like he wanted to close the door in Eddie's face. Maybe they both deserved it, to not be friends and not figure out this whole situation and to just sit in this hurt forever until all of their friends got tired of their bullshit. Except Eddie was tired of deserved too, having heard plenty of what he 'deserved' after Chrissy was killed.

"We need to talk," Eddie spoke up, and Steve sighed and nodded, though didn't move from the doorway.

"It's fine, man, there's nothing to talk about," Steve told him. "We're good, I'm fine."

"Well as long as Harrington is fine," Eddie returned quickly, wincing immediately after. "I'm not. Nothing about this is fine."

Steve sighed and leaned his hip against the doorframe. And shit, why did he get to look so annoyed that this conversation was happening? Eddie deserved an apology too, didn't he? Didn't he?

"Yeah, okay this was a mistake," Eddie hissed, taking a step backward and shaking his head.

"What now?" Steve snapped, nothing but pure annoyance and frustration in his voice. It reminded him of all the times people told him to shut up, to get over it. Not everyone is gonna like you, not everyone wants to be your friend. But damn did he want to be more with Steve.

"You don't even get it, do you?" Eddie returned, feeling that same uncontrollable anger bubble up in him. How dare Steve be annoyed now, when he'd come to try to figure things out? "You think you can make fun of whatever freak dares to like you? Well guess what, Harrington, it's not fucking funny, and when you fuck up most people want an apology."

"What are you talking about?" Steve threw his hands in the air, one continuing up to tug and pull at his hair. "You've been acting so c—"

"Crazy? That's it, right? I'm crazy Eddie Munson, so desperate for you I'll just bite you or something?"

"What are you—"

"I heard you," Eddie confessed. "At Family Video, I heard you making fun of me. Telling Robin all about how the gay guy was sitting in your lap and sleeping in your bed. That's not cool you know, lies like that get people hurt."

"I—" Steve's hazel eyes widened in realization. He shook his head, disbelieving as he watched Eddie. And fuck, did that look on Steve's face irritate the hell out of him. "You're kidding me."

"Here's a tip, don't talk gossip in public, big boy."

"So you heard me talking, you were confused, and instead of just asking like a normal person, you assumed I was a terrible human being? I have that right?" Well it sounded bad when Steve put it that way.

Eddie shrugged, to which Steve scoffed, shoulders deflating.

"Right, it's not that far off to assume I'd do that, huh?" Steve responded. He looked sad, those hazel eyes looking as doe-like as ever. The ache in Eddie's chest went away, but it was replaced by something sharper, the distinct feeling that something had gone horribly wrong here. "Look, I...I don't know why I named him that. I just...he looked a little rough at first, and then when I gave him a safe place to land he had this huge personality. He's goofy, and full of energy, and so loving I just..." Steve shrugged, bending down to pick up something from behind the door.

It was a fucking cat. The little guy was all black and a little too thin, though looked to be on the up and up. He was curled up comfortably in Steve's arms, where even now one large hand idly scratched behind one ear.

"You have a cat. You got a cat and you named it Eddie," Eddie said dully, monotone with the shock of the whole thing. Dread filled his stomach, pitting something dark and heavy there. "You named a cat after me."

"My mistake," Steve answered, grabbing onto the edge of the door with his free hand. "Forgive me, I'm just a dumb jock, you know."

"Wait, Steve—" Eddie rushed to grab onto the door but it had already closed tightly, leaving him outside with no way to fix the situation.

He'd fucked up, big time, but at least now he knew what Robin meant. He knew, and now he wouldn't stop until he fixed things. He would, because Steve named a cat after him.

Just one more part. It was really meant to be just this part but it was getting a little long, my apologies! And don't worry, there'll be fluff and some eddie the cat joy in there too.

Tagging whoever asked on the last reply, sorry if I missed anyone or tagged someone accidentally! It's totally not necessary, but a small reminder that I really appreciate feedback or if you enjoyed it, reblogs💜

@oxidantdreamboat @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @estrellami-1 @sjullay @doubleb11 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @nelotegreitic @liketheocean @background-noise-headache @wowimwhatibingewatch @obsessive-anddepressive @colorful565 @krazyperson @nonsense-of-dimitri @whimsicalwitchm @zerokrox-blog @electrick-marionnett @the-redthread @juststeddiebrainrot @dollalicia @vi-an-te @lioniheart @unclewaynemunson @stevesbipanic @ajamlessbaby @qomrades @ivydragon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @apricottree @gleek4twd @messrs-weasley @makewavesandwar @renaissan-vvitch @artiststarme @suikatto @proudbaconatornyoom @ilikechocolatemilkh @0o-queendean-o0 @dangdirtydemons @v3lnys @mybradforddream

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #misunderstandings #stranger things #steddie angst #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #jay writes in theory

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a-coffee-addict-613 · 21 days

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Cold hands - Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader, a short fic

Summary : reader's hands are cold and Ghost is tired of hearing her complain about it, so he offers to warm them up for her so she will shut up; except he gets more than he expected...

CW: smut, that's it; oh and bag language

"It's cold as hell," she whispered into the night. Ghost stood beside her; they were both keeping watch while the others slept in their tents a bit farther behind them.

"Freaking hell, my hands are like ice blocks, I'm freezing," she said shortly after her last comment. This had been going on for a while; she had been constantly complaining about being cold, or at least that was how Ghost was experiencing it.

"Stop complaining," he said, short and cold, almost like an order, cutting through the air.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not trained for this stuff like you guys, so I have the right to complain," she huffed, trying to bury her nose underneath her scarf.

"That's not how it works," he replied with a sigh.

After that, she did not say anything more, but she was still getting on Ghost's nerves because she couldn't keep still, rocking up and down on her heels, pacing around, and constantly blowing on her hands to try to warm them up.

Ghost let out an inaudible groan and begrudgingly said, "If I find a way to warm you up a bit, will you shut up and stop moving?" He didn't even deign himself to look at her.

"Dude, if you do that, I think I'd marry you," she laughed, blowing on her hands for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Just stop," he said, and with that, he grabbed one of her wrists and guided it to his abdomen where he had lifted up his shirt. After all, body heat is the most efficient way to warm up.

She hesitated, even if she was yearning to put her hands on Ghost's perfect abs. "Are you sure...?" she mumbled, looking up at Ghost. They were so close now; she had never stood so close to Ghost in a non-combat way.

He did not answer, only hummed and tugged on her wrist again, still in his grasp, to bring it even closer to his bare skin. She did not hesitate this time; she splayed both hands on his hot skin, and she could not contain herself; his warmth thawed out her fingers almost instantly, and a small sigh of relief escaped her mouth.

He couldn't help but smile at the way she sighed when his warmth reached her hands, despite the shiver that coursed through his body. He was glad the mask hid his smile; he couldn't afford a distraction like her, even if she *was* a pretty distraction.

"Hurry," he huffed out instead, the sooner she was done, the sooner he would be rid of her hold on him, one he couldn't seem to shake off.

"Fine, fine," she all but brushed him off. She moved her hands further up, grazing his ribs, searching for warmer skin. This time, she felt the chill that crossed his skin. Little did she know that it was not the cold that made him shiver.

"Careful," his voice cut through the air; it had a dangerous undertone that made her look up and look into his eyes for the first time since they started this whole thing.

This time, it was she who did not answer; she simply decided to head in the opposite direction. And so, ever so slowly, she slid her hand back down to their starting place, but she did not stop there; she continued further down, over his V. She did all this while maintaining eye contact with Ghost, a bold move because, honestly, he could be quite intimidating.

She kept going, allowing her hand to fall to his belt. After two beats of hesitation and due to the fact that Ghost remained unmoving, she unbuckled his belt, popped open his pants, and slithered her hands inside. Inside his boxers, not his pants.

Upon her still freezing hands making contact with his soft cock and balls, which she cupped with both hands, it broke Ghost's stone-cold demeanor. He hissed loudly and let out, "That's freezing, Doc," his British accent thicker than usual.

"I'm just following your orders, Lieutenant," she answered cheekily, her eyes holding a mischievous smile. She used one of her now warm hands to cup his balls while the other traveled to wrap around his cock, which was now not so soft. She began stroking it leisurely, slowly making it harder by the second, her hand squeezing his head each time her fist traveled up, her thumb stroking it every time.

"You are playing a dangerous game," Ghost whispered, but despite his words, he brought both hands up to rest on her hips.

"My hands are warm now, but.... I think that my lips are cold; maybe you could help me with that too..." she murmured, a small smile on her face, as if she wasn't asking permission to do such an obscene thing.

There was a small silence, one where Ghost was having an inner struggle, but eventually his non-logical brain won, and with a groan, he said, "Be quick about it."

She did not need him to say it twice; she dropped to her knees, no longer caring about the cold ground hitting her knees. All she cared about was finally doing something that she had fantasized about for so long.

NB: maybe I'll write a part 2 to this, you anyone asks; love youuu byee

#smut #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader smut

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extremelyblackandwhite · 8 months

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx

masterlist

now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me

Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.

Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.

As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.

- I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.

- Or maybe I’m just really daft.

- I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise.

- Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children.

- How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?

Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl.

- He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising.

- That’s most CEOs isn’t it?

- Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee.

- That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?

- Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis.

- I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.

To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.

Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.

- So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.

- What lady?

- Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?

- You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees.

- Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?

- Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.

- But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?

- No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring.

- You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring.

(...)

Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men.

- Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?

- No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes.

- 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose.

She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie.

- You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?

- Light?

- I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug.

She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was.

He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis.

He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill.

His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs.

- Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.

Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.

All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis.

(...)

Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him.

- Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?

- Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?

- Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?

- I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.

- Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR.

- Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!

- Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men.

- Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums.

- Maybe I will.

- Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?

- Steve’s picking her up.

- Steve?

Steve.

////////////////////////////////////

taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/you #bucky x you #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky smut

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