#this is like 3 miles in and it’s totally dark | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multifariousqueer · 10 months

Note

Hello girl! how are you? doing well?

Can I request a E 42 yandere miles X reader? Am yes, E 42 reader is dead, omg how original XD

But the E 42 reader had this "church girl" or "flower girl" innocent type persona. And when E 1610 reader arrived with miles, she is a loud, cusses out a lot and has a hammer with her at all times.

E 42 miles sees her and while stunned to see such drastic personality change, he still sees his beloved in her and wants to keep her in his world and in his life? Add flashbacks if ya like! you can change it if you want! whatever makes it be awesome! luv you! <3

Hey, love!! I can totally do this

Suerte- Miles G x Reader

A/n: I hope y’all enjoy this!!

Warnings: strong language, angst, suggestiveness, reader being a spider person, descriptions of blood and yandere behavior, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anymore

You were falling off of a building, it seemed your screams would never end as you looked up into the endless sky waiting for someone, anyone to save you. Miles watched as he tried to run and save you but by then it was too late, the sound of your skull hitting the pavement and the crimson blood that flowed from your nose was enough to indicate that you were gone and there was no saving you. Miles cradled your softer skull as the police and ambulance arrived.

Suddenly, Miles woke up in a cold sweat. It was Sunday now, and he had to get ready for church the only reason he was going was because you convinced him too

You managed to convince Miles to do just about anything; he just couldn’t say no to your adorable face and he hated disappointing you. You two seemed like an odd couple at first, with Miles being tough, cold and closed off whereas you were bright, happy, innocent and it seemed like you could do no wrong. You went to church every Sunday, you prayed all the time, you helped everyone and everything and Miles fell for your soft innocence and your warmth. He fell for your simplicity, your poise, your patience and how you felt like a piece of heaven.

The day he lost you was the day he lost himself. Miles was never the same after you left; he closed himself off completely and adopted the Prowler moniker. He felt like he failed you and that you would be so dissapointed if you saw him now. Miles would have flashbacks to you telling him how much you loved him and how you would always love him in every universe, so he decided to pray and beg God for you back and eventually, he got that.

“MILES WHERE THE FLYING FUCK ARE WE??” you shouted

“I’M TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT, Y/N” Miles shouted back

You and your Miles were best friends since you both came to Visions. He found out you had powers the same as him and you two clicked immediately. It seemed you two were fated to be together; same music taste, fashion choices and morals its just you were a bit more harsh than him

“I think we’re home?” Miles questioned

“I don’t remember Brooklyn looking this shitty” you said

“It’s just dark, come on, we can go to my house. My mom loves you” you said

Mrs. Morales loved you because not only were you quick on your feet, you also made Miles happy and you made a great first impression. She thought you were exactly like Miles, just more abrasive and she thought you were sweet.

You went to Miles room and it looked different, almost more grown. Your spider-sense went off and just as you went to tell Miles, Rio was there and greeting him. She looked at you like she had seen a ghost, tears spilling from her...green eyes??

“Y/n?” she whispered

“Yeah? Hi Mrs. Morales” you went, going to give her a hug which she reciprocated just more eagerly

“Oh Mija, I thought you were dead. Gracias Dios, you answered my prayers” she said, sobbing and looking up at the sky

Her and Miles had a conversation and you both revealed your identities in which she was indifferent about. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal an Uncle Aaron.

He saw you and his eyes went wide. He stalked closer to you before grabbing your shoulders and shaking his head

“Is it really you, y/n?” he said

“uhh yeah last time I checked” you chuckled, grabbing your body as a joke

“Where did you go? How are you here?” he asked in disbelief

“Well interesting story actually, we used something called our legs and walked here” you joked, usually Aaron could appreciate your humor because it was one of the things he told Miles before he died

“Miles, you won’t find another girl like her. Girls like y/n don’t come around like that so I’d advise you to keep her"

“Got it” Miles would say

It was like you were looking into a portal of dead people, your entire body clenched when his gaze suddenly went cold.

He lead Miles and you to the roof when suddenly, you felt a strong stinging in your neck and just as you were about to hit the floor, a strong pair of arms grabbed you and you heard voices

“She’s not your, y/n man. She’s meaner”

“I don’t care"

You awoke with a splitting headache on a couch. Your limbs were handcuffed together and it was dark; your eyes immediately went to search for your Miles when you saw him tied to a bag

“He won’t be up for a bit, hes out cold. Maybe we can keep him that way” a voice said

“He’s not the only one who’s gonna be out cold. Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” you snapped

“Hm. So hostile, my Y/n would never speak like that” a man said approaching you

“Dawg are you smoking crack? Speed? Bath Salts? Because you gotta be fucked up if you think-“ you started

“la muchacha sucia(dirty girl), I should’ve put that gag on you while you were out” he said, taking off his mask to reveal your boyfriend just more gaunt

“Listen here you Rick and Morty knockoff, if you try that, I will bite your finger off, comprende?” you said

“Si. Eres muy bonita pero tu boca es tan asquerosa. I can tell you aren’t from here” he smirked

“Just so you know, just because you called me pretty doesn’t mean I won’t crush your nuts the second I get out of these chains. Listen, your knockoff prowler suit doesn’t scare me and neither do these chains, I could break out right now but I’m intrigued” you said

You heard groaning and saw your Miles move

“MILES” you screamed into the other Miles’ ear

“Y/N. GET AWAY FROM HER” your Miles shouted

The other Miles ignored him but he grabbed your throat and forced you to look up at him

“It’s not a knockoff mami and unless you want to find out just how powerful this suit can be, I suggest you pipe down. It’s gonna take a bit of work, maybe force” he tightened his grip at force, causing your eyes to water and your tongue to come out

“But I think I can make it work. You may not be exactly like her, but you’ll be close enough” Miles said, lowly

If the circumstances weren’t what they were, Miles would’ve found your position hot, you were tied up, tongue hanging out a bit and your eyes looked so pretty; in his mind, you were giving him the “fuck me” eyes but in reality, you were using this as a way to escape

The idea of playing along until he got his wish came to mind but you realized this was deeper than that, he wanted you in every form and if it wasn’t you, what’s to stop him from taking another version of you that may accidentally come by.

“What happened, mami? You had so much to say, say it.” Miles taunted, hand still flush against your throat

“Yeah its kinda hard when you’re choking the life outta me” you said

He took his hand off your throat and you coughed.

“Dude just leave her alone, okay? You can have me, kill me just please let her go” your Miles said, his voice faltering at the end

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Plus cabron, I don’t want you at all, its not about you. It’s about her and her making a promise

“What promise did I make?” you asked

Miles got a flashback of you laying next to him, playing with his braids and giggling

“I’ll love you in every universe, Miles Morales” you said sweetly

Miles teared up and explained this to you

“Okay well bud, I’m not her and in a way, I do love you in every universe, I love my Miles but” you said before he slammed his fist next to you, causing you to yelp

“I am your Miles, mi amor. At least, I will be. I’m never letting you go again” he said close to your face, hovering above your lips before getting up and striding over to your Miles

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

the clash | iii. black planet

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, needles mentioned, slight injury from said needle

a/n: is this one long? yes. do i care? no because it was fun to write. it was 3 am when i finished this and make this a draft, so you know i had fun with this chapter. also, i’m about to go into work, so i will probably not be here but i wanted to post it beforehand so i can just worry about working on chapter iv later. and just wanna say i’m grateful to everyone who is reading and interacting with the posts! this has been such a warm welcome back into writing for the marvel universe and i appreciate each and every one of you :)🖤 also i have a question, feel free to answer in the comments or pm me, do i go all the way in the angst for this, or only some angst?

now reading: iii. black planet

previous chapter: ii. time bomb

next chapter: iv. london calling

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You open a portal to your world, and dramatically motion everyone inside. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr step into it, and you glance at Hobie. “Are you actually coming, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says sarcastically, stepping into the portal. You enter last, walking until you’re in the familiar darkness of your apartment. “Welcome to my home,” you say, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. As you’re pouring, you hear one of your guests speak up. “Is that… a real skull…?” Pavitr asks, pointing to a human skull above your fireplace mantle. “Sure is. She’s my aunt,” you say, taking a sip of water. They all look at you with a look that reads ‘is it… that aunt?’

You nod.

It isn’t brought up again.

Hobie sees a vinyl player and immediately walks over to it. He observes the multiple albums and singles and then comes across vinyls that don’t look like they belong to any band in particular. “You press your own vinyl?”

“Obviously. There’s just something better about vinyl than listening to it on my phone, so I press my own playlists,” you say, and Hobie glances up at you. “It sounds more real. Scratches and all, makes it feel authentic,” he says, placing a record on your player and placing the needle on it surprisingly gently. You raise your eyebrow at him. ‘Of course he would get the record thing,’ you think to yourself, ‘he is a guitarist after all.’

“I totally agree,” Gwen says, and you nod. Musician things. Ambient sounds accompanied by faint guitar riffs fill the room. You nod in approval. This is one of your favorite songs. Gwen smiles. “Your place is so fucking cool, (Y/n),” she says, walking over to the crystal ball and various tarot decks you have set up on your kitchen table. “Thanks, I take pride in it,” you say and Hobie makes a noise. “Could be better. Tell me, do you consider any color? Ever? Like what the fuck kind of plants are these that they’re all black?”

“They’re called Raven ZZ plants, and actually, they’re a bright green when new leaves sprout, but no. Color is not for me. The only reason I have the tiniest bit of pastel pink on my spider suit is because I need to continue to throw people off my scent.”

“How d’you reckon a tiny splash a’ color will do that?”

“There are various different types of goth. If I only used my own style, it would make the likelihood of me being me much higher than I would like,” you explain, and Miles looks around. “So… this place haunted?” he asks and you grin. “Yes.”

“Ghosts aren’t fuckin’ real.” Hobie scoffs, and he has to bite back a laugh at how quickly you turn your head to him. He actually does believe in ghosts, just a tiny bit, but doing anything to piss you off has become his new motto. Even if he has to lie.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make one of them possess you,” you say icily, and a cold breeze rolls through the room and blows out some of the candles. Pavitr shrieks and jumps into Miles’ arms. Gwen mutters something about that being ‘so cool.’ Hobie looks virtually unimpressed and you two glare at each other until you all get an all too familiar feeling of danger. You all turn your head toward your balcony, and you see an explosion in the distance. “Fuck,” you mumble, jumping into action immediately. You pull your mask on, and jump without a second thought. It’s a new thing when you glance over and see Hobie right by you. “Was that a bomb? Who could that be?” Miles asks and you sigh. “Probably the Green Goblin,” you say, and Hobie opens his mouth to say another sarcastic remark but is cut off when he gets to observe what your swinging is like.

You literally move like the wind. It’s fluid and smooth in nature, and he pays special attention to how you barely make noise when you land on a building to run. It’s actually impressive, and it makes him lose whatever rude comment he thought of. It’s the complete opposite of how he is. Erratic and loud. He doesn’t know whether to respect it or make fun of you for it later. Probably the latter. “Hey (Y/n)? Is the sky normally this dark? I thought it was like 6pm,” Pavitr asks as you all swing and you nod. “The sun is only out for like 2-3 hours a day here,” you respond. “Damn a little sunlight never killed anybody,” Miles says, and you shrug. “Honestly, here it might.”

“Is that why you’re so moody and negative? Only light you get is from the moon?” Hobie asks and you roll your eyes. “Actually, I was born that way. My style of living has nothing to do with my moodiness and realistic outlook,” you shoot back, emphasizing the point of realistic and not negative. He just shakes his head.

You all arrive at the location the explosive went off, and you notice there are still people inside the parking garage that was hit. “We’re on it!” Gwen says, motioning for Pavitr and Miles to follow her. The three of them take off in an instant, and you keep your eyes peeled and ears open to hear the wings of the Green Goblin’s glider. Hobie hangs back, not saying anything for once in his life. Until he gets an uneasy feeling. “Something’s close.”

“I know, idiot, I have the sense too.”

“I was just sayi–”

He’s cut off by a tiny bag of… powder… being thrown between the two of you. You both leap out of the way immediately before it explodes. “Found you!” Hobie hears a maniacal laugh, “Ohhhh and you brought a friend!” The Green Goblin of your universe giggles, and he realizes that the glider she’s on is a giant taxidermy bat accessorized with mechanical elements making it able to fly again. “Not their friend,” he yells at the Goblin before addressing you, “What the actual fuck is ‘at?” Hobie yells and you sigh. “That’s the Green Goblin of my universe, she’s a fucking lunatic who wants to turn me into a taxidermy sculpture and sell me at an art auction.”

“She an Osborn?”

“Yes, Harriet Osborn,” you say, dodging another… bomb? Hobie honestly doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. “Well, I’ve killed one Osborn already, what’s another,” he says, and you make a gasping noise. “Oh no… don’t tell me…”

“We can’t kill Harriet!”

“Why the fuck not?! She’s tryna kill you!”

“Because of personal reasons! You’re not about to come into my world, and kill my villains, asshole!” you scream, and he groans. “Fuckin’ fine. Whatever, we take her down, we don’t kill her,” he says, and you nod. “I take her down. Like I have countless times before.”

“Uh uh uh, I’m here for a reason, we take her down.”

“Gods, fine. Whatever,” you huff and the both of you dodge another explosive. You point to Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr who are motioning to you that they got everyone out of the garage. Without speaking, the two of you develop a plan. You immediately web into the garage, going down to the bottom floor. Of course, your Goblin follows you, completely disregarding Hobie even being there. He follows behind. It’s dark in here, all the lighting has gone out inside and the black sky outside makes it difficult to see. You use the stealth he observed earlier to your advantage. Even he has trouble picking out where you are, and he has super senses. He makes his way to a pillar that supports the garage as quietly as he can, which, luckily, is quiet enough that he goes unnoticed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he hears in a sing-songy voice.

He carefully picks up a rock and glances around the garage. He’s behind a pillar that will help bring the whole thing down, he just needs to deduce which of the other pillars will assist in that. Lucky for him, you’re there too. He hears a noise behind one of the pillars, and sure enough, an explosion soon follows. He quickly realizes where the other weak points are and throws a rock at one of the others. Boom. Explosion. And then one more. He glances to his left to see you right next to him. You both nod at each other, and he hits a power chord. You roll your eyes. “A little flashy, don’t you think,” you say as the two of you leap out of the way and there’s one more explosion. “Not flashy enough, love,” he responds as the garage starts to shake.

The two of you expertly navigate the falling rocks as you make your way out of the collapsing building. Right when you get out, your eyes widen, and you twist your body so the glider doesn’t impale you. You land on top, and the Goblin turns around. Half of her mask is broken and she’s bleeding from being hit by one of the rocks. You can tell the glider was hit, too, because it seems to be stalling every now and again. It does get you farther away from your spider-companions, but they start webbing after you. “Found you,” she says. “No shit, Harriet. It only took you demolishing ONE building to do it this time, feels like a new personal record for you,” you respond, and she throws a punch at you. You dodge, and then see her pull out an unnecessarily large taxidermy needle. “Ah, shit,” you mumble as she starts wielding it like a dagger. You’re able to dodge most of her attacks, but the last one grazes your side. You hiss and realize she put another attempt of a knockout serum on it as well. Great. She laughs.

“Stupid spider! I didn’t need to stab you; I just needed a little graze! See, I put a special kind of toxin on my needle, and now it–” She gets knocked out by a single punch to the face. “You talk way too damn much, girl,” you mumble, webbing her to the side of a building as she falls off her glider. Oh shit. The glider. You leap off, despite the pain in your side and the woozy feeling that’s starting to show up and web the glider. You then go water skiing without the water. Or the skiis. And on the road. Oops.

You do your best to control the glider, swerving between cars and making sure it doesn’t run into any of the skyscrapers in downtown Night of Yore City. That’s when you realize it’s about to run straight into a building. You narrow your eyes. It’s time to do your Spider thing. You yank back on the glider, causing it to stall. You leap up onto the side of a building, detaching three webs onto it and leaping to the other one. You repeat until a full spiderweb is formed, blocking the glider’s way to the building, and repeat so it’s underneath the glider as well. You quickly web up the giant claws of the taxidermy bat, ensuring they can’t cut through your webs, and wrap the glider up, swinging around it in a circle. You attach the end of the web to the big spider web you just made and watch it slow down even more. It goes into the web in front of the building, and slightly indents into it, but that’s the further it gets.

You crouch on a lamppost, watching to make sure nothing bad happens. When you’re positive everything’s fine, you stand. A few citizens yell some thanks you’s, more glare at you because you just ruined their day, and some just ignore you completely. You look up and see the four other Spider-People chilling on the side of a building. You quickly join them. “Never seen someone make a web that fast and efficiently,” Gwen says, motioning to the web you wove. You shrug. “Thank you.”

“Unfortunate a buildin’ had to come down in the process,” Hobie says, not giving you a break or any type of praise. You roll your eyes. “Let’s not forget you were part of the reason the building came down.”

“I could have done it without the destruction.”

“Like you would have.”

“I wouldn’t have, but I could have. Obviously, you couldn’t,” he says, and you flip him off as you all begin webbing back to your apartment. Once you get there, you assess the damage the needle did to you. Some weird green toxin was in the cut, and you sigh. “Wait, (Y/n), that looks kind of serious,” Gwen says, noting the discoloration of the toxin compared to your skin. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. She keeps trying to make a knock-out serum to use on me. None of them are strong enough,” you affirm, the slight wooziness you had felt earlier is completely gone. Now you just need to wash and dress this, and it should be healed by morning. “Or maybe she’s just a shit chemist.”

“Thank you, Hobie, for your doubt that I’m a capable Spider-Person,” you say, and he nods at you. “Always.”

You get out your first aid kit and clean your wound up. It stings, and you wince, and the others know that feeling all too well. “Right, well now that we’ve seen this gloomy, depressin’, dark ass world, why don’t we go see an actual fun world, eh?” Hobie says, starting to press some buttons on his watch. “Go to your world? What so I can be blown away with too loud amps and catch on fire because some dumbass thinks they can make a flamethrower with some sort of cleaning spray and a lighter? No thanks,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes. “Not like I want you there anyways, love,” he says. You hate this new nickname he’s picked for you. It’s not endearing, it’s annoying. And he knows that it bothers you. You angrily put your first aid kit down and glare at him. “Fine. But hold on one second.”

You scale your wall and reach into an impossibly high cupboard, pulling out some cat food. Suddenly, the four spiders see two bright green eyes in the darkness of what appears to be your bedroom. You fill up a bowl, and your black cat saunters over to you. You pet his head, giving him a few scritches between the ears, his favorite spot. Hobie’s grateful you’re preoccupied with your cat because he does not need you to see the expression on his face. He loves cats. Especially black cats, they’re a perfect symbol of rebellion. Maybe he’ll come back here one day but only for your cat. ONLY.

“Alright, now that you’ve fed the cat, can we please leave? I can feel my soul bein’ sucked out of my body the longer I stand here,” Hobie says, impatiently, and you roll your eyes. “That’s the ghosts doing that, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

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『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @d1nne @dotheyevenknowmars @f1shb0nez @fisshil @imarealfungi @ineedsomeconfidence @iwillrisefromthefire @jingliuu @jjkclub @khaleesihavilliard @marshallowy @miwagila @naarra* @nikabearr @sillylittleguyinc @sparklyphantom @sxftiebee @weyrrii* @wheeeelys @zero-boxes

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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pupcuck · 5 months

Text

JINGLE BALLS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, daddy-daughter incest, leon is creepy ngl, dub-con at first then consensual, daddy issues, you get compared to your mom lots, creampie, daddy kink

note. HAII sorry for this being late omg :3 umm this is weird and jolty and the plot im not totally happy with but :333 ignore typos or I will cry!! feedback and reblogs always so appreciated :3

tumblr removes fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that these fics contain dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“Pumpkin!” Your dad’s embrace is stiff per usual. This guy - he seriously needs a lesson in intimacy. Can’t go hugging your daughter the same way you do a girlfriend. Dads shouldn’t put their hands below your midriff. They certainly shouldn’t grip your hips and pull you close with such fervour, now you’re tit to tit with the man who gifted you your pornstar rack. And it’s a bit awkward to say the very least.

“Hi, dad.” He backs off, skittish when he hears your tone of voice. Flat and clipped.

“Sweetpea, I’m so glad you’re here,” Leon starts, he’s laying it on super thick, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun.” Oh, you’re exhausted already.

“Mhm.” You nod in disinterest as you toe off your shoes, place them beside his mud-caked boots. Leon is your dad. Your dad is just a guy to you. One that’s around never, you see him seldom and from afar. He’s not exactly awful, but he’s nothing great. A little touchy if anything, and enthusiastic in a way that comes across as disingenuous.

The only thing you really know about Leon is that he’s your dad, he works with the government, and he’s still hung up on your mom. You can tell from a mile away. Looks at her like she crafted the earth itself, mapped out the stars, plucked them from the sky to make him a new moon. Totally whipped for a woman who forgets he exists until major holidays roll around. And you get it honestly, your mom is pretty, fun, and she’s all you’ve got. So you might take after dad in that sense.

You’ve seen the kinda women he brings home. That time you caught him mid disgusting, nasty, abhorrent sex act that you’ve only seen in porn. Had this poor girl’s head tilted so far back, blonde curls like liquid gold running along her back, brushing the swell of her ass, his arm wrapped around her neck - like, was he trying to fucking kill her? Well, she liked it clearly. That’s beside the point, when you saw her face the following morning, her sheepish smile and the slant of her eyes - you got it. Mom. She looked like mom. You overheard him telling her she was too young for him, a college girl, his daughter’s age - only after he came down her throat though. What a creep.

Then there was his girlfriend from a few years back, this chick who popped her gum too loud, bossed him around and got him to pay for a new set of acrylics weekly. It was uncanny the resemblance between her and mom. What next? You? Is it your turn to be pursued by Leon, by dad? The only thing you’ve got from him is tits, busty like your daddy, pretty like your mommy. And he fucking knows it. You know he does.

Leon places a hand on your lower back. Like, way lower back, the spot a boyfriend would touch when he wants to initiate a quickie. You shiver, glance at him through your peripheral as he guides you to the lounge, the wooden floor is so cold you feel it through the fabric of your winter socks. This dude is loaded and he can’t even get heated floors installed? Not even for lil ol’ you? His daughter? The one that resembles his one true love?

There’s a red box that contains a gingerbread house sitting on the coffee table, you groan inwardly. Here we go with the bonding activities, it’s so forced it makes your skin crawl. His Christmas tree is, well, it’s a tree alright, crudely and hastily decorated with a sparse amount of baubles and god-awful paper crafts you gave to him as a toddler. Aw, the sentiment is there though, kinda cute. You’ll cut dad some slack.

By the time midnight rolls around, you realise cutting dad even the slightest bit of slack was a mistake. “Take that off.” You jab a finger into his stomach, met with sinewy, toughened flesh. Woah, dad’s still got it going on. “It’s ugly, and I’m not twelve, dad.”

“Moving fast.” Leon - your dad, biological, held you as a baby, rocked you to sleep at night - wiggles his eyebrows at you. All while dressed in a Santa suit by the way, ‘cause that is one very important piece of information. He looks fucking ridiculous. It’s the same one he used to pull out when you were a kid, back when you actually gave a shit about him, what he thought about you, whether he even wanted you. ‘Cause if your daddy wanted you, why was he away so often? Told mom to jingle his balls once, an unsavoury recurring memory that you’d like to forget.

“Oh, dad, that’s actually really concerning, like, I’m not gonna lie.” You frown at him so hard the wrinkles that form on your forehead become permanent. “Don’t say that to me.”

“I was messing around.” He defends, “Christ, what is up with you today? Got a stick up your ass or somethin’? Y’know, in my day, kids used to be able to take jokes.” Now he’s pouting like a toddler in a sour mood.

“That was not a joke, dad!” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but it happens and within seconds he’s sat on the couch dejected. This fucking dude. Ugh. He’s pathetic. How did he manage to bag a hottie like your mom?

“I just want you to love me, sweetheart.” Here we go again. Leon sighs hopelessly as he slumps back into the cushions, and you can’t take him seriously when he’s wearing a fucking Santa hat.

“I do love you, dad.” And you do. Honest. Really. Like, pinky promise. You love him out of obligation - he’s your dad, and you’re meant to love your dad. Doesn’t mean you like him though. In your very objective-totally-not-biased view, your dad is just a bit unlikeable. A bit of a strange one.

“Yeah?” He lightens up, “You love me?” God, it’s like he gets off on it. Oh, you’re just being mean now. You scoot closer to him, lean in for an awkward side hug.

“I do, dad. I love you.” You don’t have the courage to look at him. Leon’s arm snakes around your waist, and you know what’s coming. How much do you love me?

“How much do you love me?” Called it. Up until now it’s been a harmless question, but when you face him, gaze flitting from his eyes to his nose to his lips, the general wear and tear of his aged face - it’s different. This time you won’t be able to get away with the regular bout of flattery, wax poetry about how much you love him, how you wouldn’t want anyone else but him to be your daddy. When in reality, you’d swap out Leon for any poor sod. They wouldn’t leave you hanging so damn often.

“A lot, dad.” You turn your head to roll your eyes, getting it out of your system proves worthy, now you can plaster your mommy’s smile onto your face, the one he loves so much. “So much, you know that, don’t you?”

“Just don’t seem like it, pumpkin.” Leon gives you a sideways glance, “I’m trying… I wanna make it up to you, y’know? For how much I was away.”

“Dad, you don’t have to do that. I’m over it.” You’re not. But, you’re good at pretending you are. “I don’t need you to make it up to me.” You do. Oh, you so do. You need it to a devastating degree. “Like, I’m not a kid, I don’t want Santa, and I don’t wanna make fuckin’ gingerbread houses, or watch Home Alone-“

“What, so you’re a big girl now?” He tilts his head to the side, there’s an edge to his voice that’s hard to decipher. Don’t know if it’s good or bad.

“Well, I’m not little anymore, dad.” You gasp when he tries to take a subtle glimpse down your shirt.

“I can see that.” Leon pokes his tongue into the corner of his cheek.

“Yeah, and I saw that!” When you go to stand, his grip becomes almost crushing, wanting to hold you in place so badly. For a moment it’s scary, only for a moment, this is just dad. Just Leon. He’s harmless. As lame as he is, your dad wouldn’t hurt you.

“I didn’t do nothing, baby, c’mere, don’t be like that.” Dad pets your head, and it reminds you of your childhood bedroom. “I’m sorry, alright? I never spent Christmas with just you, and I wanted to make it good for you.”

“I know, dad, and I appreciate it, just don’t need you to get all weird about it. Like, we can just— we can just be normal about it. Don’t have to do all this shit, I just want us to be normal.” Normal, huh? Neither of you can do normal, and you’re fully aware of that. ‘Cause your dad is a freak, and you can’t exactly drain Kennedy blood all that easy. You’ll be your father’s daughter even when he’s dead. “Like, I really, I really can’t deal with this whole Santa thing, did you really expect me to like it? I’m not a baby.”

“I just thought it’d be cute.” Cute? What is cute about a grown man in a Santa costume that’s covered in a thin layer of dust, dug out from the boxes he still hasn’t managed to open ten years after the divorce? “Listen, baby, I’m sorry, alright? I’m real sorry, look at me,” Leon cups your cheek, stares into your eyes with his gentle ones, “Dad’s sorry, yeah? I’m just stupid sometimes.”

“You are,” you nod, “but, I’m sorry too.” No, you’re not. Just saying it so he doesn’t drag this on, so he doesn’t call up your mom and tell her you’re not having a good time. Then your mom will be down your throat, your dad’s missed you, and you missed him too, you should be nicer to him, he tries his best, darling! “You, like, went through all that effort, and I didn’t even say thank you, I just got mad at you— so I’m sorry, dad.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, shifts so he can bring you into his chest, cheek squished against one of his fat tits, god, why’re they so big, you swear it’s bigger than both of yours combined. “It’s alright, I know you’re growing up, and I’m sorry for treating you like a baby, it’s just, it’s hard ‘cause you’re my little girl, y’know?” Not true. You’ve always been a mommy’s girl. Dad is an acquaintance.

“Yes, I know, dad.” You blink at him, he melts, traces your cheekbone with his thumb. Thank god he took that dumbass hat off, you couldn’t take him seriously.

“Gosh, baby, you look just like your mama.”

“I know, dad.”

“Crazy, ain’t it?” Leon kisses your forehead, “Only got these from me, and nothin’ else, huh?” Dad gropes your tits. The man that put a baby in your mother, that baby being you, obviously, the man whose name is on your birth certificate— the man who has given you his name, is groping your tits. “Certainly not from mommy are they?”

You shake your head. In agreement though. ‘Cause you can’t deny it, your mom’s as flat as a board. It feels weird, yes. But not bad. Maybe you’ve detached Leon from the title of ‘dad’ to the point where it doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s wrong, so you go to stop him, but he’s unyielding in his perversion.

“You look like your mommy down here, baby?” Dad asks, he cups your pussy through your jeans with his big hand. “Can daddy see?”

You shake your head again. Slowly. This time a flimsy no, one that teeters on the boundaries of a yes. You do owe him, you’ve been acting like a bitch ever since you arrived in D.C. Making a right fuss the moment you stepped through the door. Poor guy put the rather intricate gingerbread house all together by himself, he’s dressed as fucking Santa, all ‘cause he thought you’d like it. How bad can it be? Not like fucking your dad could land the two of you in jail, right? Well, it could, but that’s not the point.

“No? C’mon, sweet girl, dad just wants to see,” Leon’s plump bottom lip juts out, you kinda sit there for a minute, then lay back on the couch. What have you got to lose? You have no emotional attachment to this man. You do. It’s not weird at all. God, it’s so weird you want to claw your skin off. “That’s a good girl.” He butters you up while he unbuttons your jeans, taps your hips so you lift ‘em up and off they pop, jeans thrown to the ground. “Oh, look at her, baby, how sweet, just like mama,” Leon rests your left leg on his shoulder, holds the ankle of your right one to spread you open. “You think she likes it like mommy did?”

“How did… How did mom like it, dad— daddy?” You correct yourself, feel this horrible churning in your stomach. Both nausea and need flooding your shaky body.

Leon presses his wide nose to the bump of your clit through your tight panties, there’s a wet patch that seems to get bigger and bigger the more he sniffs around down there. He lifts his head, rests it on your thigh as he slides them to the side, sticky, gooey arousal stringing apart, sticking to the seat of your undies like PVA glue when he separates the fabric from your soaked centre. “She liked it real sloppy, baby.” With that, he spits on your drippy cunt, runs his finger through your folds, pinches your clit. “Daddy’s gonna give it to you just how mom liked it, alright?”

“Okay, dad,” you tell him breathlessly, hands clasped together as you try to calm your nerves. The warmth of his breath on your puffy clit is enough to make you shiver, he spreads you open with his index and middle fingers, the tip of his tongue traces along the centrefold of your cunt. Then Leon grows agitated by the way your panties insist on snapping back in place, so he has a little wrestle with them and your limp legs, once they’re off he tucks them into his pocket for safekeeping. Santa’s back pocket.

Sweetly, he kisses your clit, sucks on it like he’s getting to the centre of your cunt, blows a raspberry on it - you’re so wet it’s pooling beneath your ass. Leon spreads your cheeks to lick into your cunt, press his nose into it real nice ‘n deep, smacks his lips against your fat pussy, stubble smeared with your slick. Leaking all over your dad’s pretty face, letting your dad tug your clit between his teeth and fuck his tongue into your tight hole. “Should stop shaving.” Is all dad says once you cream on his face, “Your mama didn’t.” Okay, didn’t need to know that, but here you are, dad’s fat cock hard and heavy against your thigh. So you guess fucking him comes at that expense - finding out all sorts of details about their wild sex life. To be honest, you pegged Leon as the kinda guy who knows what missionary is and missionary only, not that you ever thought about that before. He unbuckles his belt, unthreads the prongs from the holes one by one, and drops his red Santa pants. Good riddance.

“Dad,” you whimper when he sits you up, handles you like a dolly. The tight-fitted Santa coat stretches around his biceps when he scoops you up, puts you on his lap, gosh, you’ve never really noticed those. Maybe that’s what your mom saw in him. Big blue eyes and big tits and big fucking arms. This Santa attire is really fucking you up, it’s hard to take him seriously.

“Your mommy’s real good at riding cock, y’know that, pumpkin?” Leon squeezes your ass, you feel him. All of him. His clothed cock grinding upwards into your bare cunt, a toothy grin stretching his lips as he watches the way your lips squish together. Yeah, fat pussy, so what. Get over it, creep. “Best I ever had she was, best fuckin’ pussy,” he licks up the sweat dripping down your collarbones, “but you’re made for me, ain’t you, baby?”

“Yes, dad.” You don’t know what else to say, breath stuttering when he sits you down on his cock. Thick and fairly long in all the ways a dick should be, you suppose. Look at that, giving a review of your dad’s cock. How far you have come. Fucking degenerate cock critic. It sure does feel good, his tip nestled snug against your cervix, pulsing within the silky walls of your tight cunt. Feel every vein, how his tip leaks pre endlessly, how it twitches when you clench around him.

“Baby, you’re such a big girl now,” Dad kisses you smack-bang in the middle. On your pouty lips. The ones that remind him of your mom, same lips that sucked his cock in the marriage bed, same eyes rolling back into your skull when he begins to rock his hips into you. “Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you? Better than mommy.” Almost, he wants to add. You know he does. He’s so predictable.

There are no words in your brain, only able to let out shaky breaths and the occasional yelp as he takes you, grabs your hips and bounces you up and down on his cock. “Fuck, wait, let me— let me-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he’s sliding you off and bending you over the couch. “Better like this.” That’s ’cause you look like mom from behind. Same hair, same hips, same perky ass. Leon fucks you harder, his strokes deeper, knocking his cock into your poor cervix with his brutal thrusts. Your nails scratch at the cracked leather of his couch, unable to help the way you moan for him, it’s so embarrassing, even more so when your hips begin to move on their own, fucking yourself back on dad’s dick.

Each thrust is harder than the last, god, is he trying to go through you? Put you in A&E ‘cause his cock got tangled in your intensities? “Is this… Is this how mom likes it, dad?” You manage to get out through a stifled groan, he digs his teeth into your neck, licks a stripe over the tender skin then tugs at your hoop earring with his teeth.

“Your mom likes it even harder, baby,” Leon snickers, “your mama is a dirty bitch.” You gasp, tighten around him involuntarily, your pussy behaves in mysterious ways. “She liked it when I did this,” his hand comes down on your ass hard, you squeal, almost lose footing and fall face-first into the couch cushions. “And when I pulled her hair, and slapped her tits, and spit down her fuckin’ throat.” Your mom is one nasty bitch, good on her. Personally, you’re new to it all. “You want that?”

“I don’t know, dad.” You say helplessly, thighs trembling when he reaches round with his nimble fingers to rub neat circles into your bud, so you come undone around his cock. Coat the shaft in cream, drip slick down his balls. You muffle your moans into a pillow, painted toes curling against the wooden floor, suddenly thankful for his lack of underfloor heating - ‘cause you’re sweating like a pig.

Your body trembles with aftershocks as he continues to fuck you through it, helps his little girl out by kissing the wet nape of her neck, a big hand on her waist to steady her. Sweat prickles your skin, jolting as he gives one last sloppy push into you, hips jerking as he unloads all he’s got to give and you milk him just right. ‘Cause you know, you’re his kid, made for him. That’s why he fits like a glove. Born to get your cunt bred by dad. You think he says your mom’s name into your hair, but you don’t question it, slumping over in exhaustion.

“Dad, can you just do me a favour and take that off, please? I’m really tired and it’s pissing me off.” You curl up on the sofa, uncaring of the seed that drips out and trickles down your plush thighs.. Leather’s easy to clean.

“Why? I like it. Don’t you think it’s cute, sweetpea?” Normalcy or what the two of you consider normal returns.

“No, take it off, or I’m taking the next flight home.”

“Alright, pumpkin.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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mintkookiess · 10 months

Text

I like you, okay?!

A/N: Fluff fluff just fluff after the whole fiasco with "It's Always Been Her." (I need to recover from it)

Anyways, enjoy!

Love,

Mint

POV: Miles comes into your room at 3 am unexpectedly :3

Tags: Miles Morales x reader, slight cussing, LOTS OF FLUFF, sassy annoyed reader, confessions

Word count: 1k

At around 3 am, your phone started dinging, making you groggily grab your phone from the bedside table.

The sudden light from the screen made you wince. "Why the fuck is Miles texting me, it’s too late for this.” You groaned as you clicked on the unread message from him.

Hey Y/n, can I come over real quick?

You clicked your tongue in frustration, placing a hand over your eyes, and rubbed softly in a poor attempt to wake yourself up before looking back down to type the shortest possible reply that you could muster at the time.

Sure.

After hitting the send button, you huffed, chucking your phone across the bed.

As your eyes start to close once more, a soft stealthy tapping at the window makes you open your eyes again, making you grumble from great annoyance at how your best friend always found the worst times to sneak into your bedroom.

Spiderman or not, this was plain fucking torture.

"Are you ready?~" You hear a muffled voice as the window opened wider. "Oh God, please no." You groaned, throwing a pillow over your face. This was your last attempt to just drown him out, but apparently, nothing is going your way tonight.

You hear the soft padding of feet, accompanied by the familiar thwip sound of his web-shooters, swinging himself into your bedroom with a soft thud and faintly landing on his feet.

"What do you want Miles?" You said with your voice muffled by the pillow. "I know this might be a horrible time to ask, but do you think I could stay for a while?" He asked with a sheepish smile. Miles stood by your bed, awaiting your response.

You nonchalantly wave your hand off at him, eager to just get this over with. "Do whatever you want man."

Miles' eyes glistened in delight. "You're so kind tonight, what's changed?" His stupid ass question just made you want to throw him out the window.

You didn't respond, too exhausted to even think of a sassy remark. It was literally 3 in the morning, you did not have time for his antics.

However, he merely chuckled at your lack of a reaction as his lips curved into his usual smile. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a night owl. What with patrol and all that, but I couldn't go without seeing you. Your eyes have been haunting my dreams..." He trailed off.

"Ah yes, it's me being your sleep paralysis demon telling you to stop bothering me at such an ungodly hour." You replied sarcastically, finally removing the pillow from your face as it started to give you a hard time breathing.

You turned to lay on your side and looked up at him, clearly unimpressed. It was just too late for this shit.

Miles sees this, and suddenly gets defensive, sitting on the edge of your bed across from you. "Maybe if you weren't always so busy with classes—"

He suddenly stopped talking as he realizes what he said. Miles' face slowly turned red and he was internally hoping to all the gods existing that you wouldn't spot it from the darkness of your room.

Ah, maybe I should just jump out of the window. He thought as he took a deep breath in, his fingers tapping against his thigh anxiously. "I like you, okay?!" He quickly said, nervously looking up at you.

"You... WHAT?!" You suddenly yelled, causing you to sit up in shock, mouth agape and eyes widened. What the hell is this guy on about now?! And at 3 FUCKING AM?

"Okay okay, I know. Totally stupid to just jump the gun here but it's so hard to sleep. Sometimes I lose focus when I'm being Spiderman. I spend an awful lot of time thinking about you. Y-You're funny, kind, smart, all the things I like in a person." Miles rambled on, not even daring to stare directly into your eyes for fear of seeing your reaction to his sudden confession.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing. "Is this why you deliberately tried to be my lab partner when I was new at school?" To which Miles' nervous expression became that of a guilty one.

"Maybe..." He admits, his voice sounding even less confident than before.

"Don't you like that Gwen girl from our class? I would've assumed because you two are literally so close." The guy in front of you only shrinks further into himself, feeling his heart sink and his face fall. "Gwen's like a sister to me. She isn't you." He said with a slight emphasis that really sounded more like a whine.

Miles' words are slow but honest. His eyes trail up to the wall behind you to try to keep a brave face, which was slowly crumbling by the minute.

You snuck a glance at him before exhaling loudly. You flip your fingers back and forth, signaling him to come closer. "I guess you can cuddle with me." You mumbled, ignoring the way your cheeks are heating up.

Not even wanting to see his reaction, you place your blanket back over your entire body, laying back down on your bed, facing the wall and away from him.

He seemed surprised, and his face instantly lit up. Miles let out a happy gasp as he grabs your blanket gently, climbing underneath it as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist and snuggles up against your back. He even mustered the courage to bury his nose in your hair.

Miles' heart was beating erratically, rendering him absolutely speechless as he held on to you as if his life depended on it. Well, it was a dream come true for the poor boy. He'd been practicing how he'd confess to you for the last three months.

"You do know that you're going to have to work hard to get my 'yes' right?" You mumbled, trying to use every ounce of energy left in your body to numb the way his arm around your waist made you feel. "I'm fine with that," Miles quickly replied, his words soft and comforting.

"As long as I can be with you, in any capacity, I am content." He chuckled. Shortly after the two of you slowly drifted off to sleep, still in each other's arms. Or more like, you were still in his arms.

Fin.

See more of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

#miles morales x reader #miles g morales #miles morales x you #miles morales fanfiction #across the spiderverse #spiderman #miles morales x y/n #fluff #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader fluff #love confessions #miles morales confession #this is so cute im sobbing

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ncoincidences · 4 months

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All the fics I read this year, part 1: ship I read most this year —

It's James/Lily !! I've read about 80 fics for Jily this year! I've linked them all down below and limited myself to describe every fic in only a line to fit Tumblr's 4066-character limit (I don't think I did any of them justice though ,:) they're all amazing and incredible in their own way). They're not sorted in any order - it's a chaotic mess ,,:,,)

Kindly Stopped for Me* by @nodirectionhome-ao3 - Lily survives AU, an angsty fic with great badass Lily moments!

Lay All Your Love On Me* by @athenasparrow - Jily Hogwarts fic that also has smut :D

The Art of Identification by Athenasparrow - cute one-shot featuring amortentia :D

She Will by @relyingonoldships - ANGSTY! gather your napkins. I have warned you.

The Summer I fell in Love* by @annasghosts - Muggle meet cute + summer love <3

Finding Lily by Annasghosts - unique premise + fake dating for the win :D

Things That Haven't Happened Yet by @kay-elle-cee - SMUT

the silence in the sorrow by kay-elle-cee - secret relationship during war + battle angst

to ache, to hope by kay_elle_cee - unplanned pregnancy that explores both James and Lily's emotions

i'll be fine, i'll be good* by kay-elle-cee - Slytherin!Lily AU focussed on Lily's character + secret relationship

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater - lovely writing and a heart-melting meet cute!

Meet Me At The River by @charmsandtealeaves - PEN PALS JILY, absolutely adorable fic!

Laundry Day by charmsandtealeaves - cheeky fic

Midnight Dip by charmsandtealeaves - ALSO cheeky 😏

Call Me By Name by charmsandtealeaves - feat. Phone Call sex 😏 and strangers to lovers!

Incoming by charmsandtealeaves 'call me by name' but James POV and it's so good!!

Wake Me Up (When September Ends)* by charmsandtealeaves - Hogwarts Jily 7th year coming of age :)

Love Birds by charmsandtealeaves - fluffy ridiculous rom com au where James cannot be separated from his accidentally acquired duck and Lily is a gorgeous vet :D also features insanely cute doodles :D

Something Black and Blue by charmsandtealeaves - what's making Lily Evans so late to her own wedding?

Sugar Quills by charmsandtealeaves - SWEET x

Padfoot's Nose Knows by charmsandtealeaves - indeed sirius can smell the good news from a mile away!

The Exchange Principle by charmsandtealeaves - cute body swap fic!

Nom De Plume by AnnaBtG - !!!!! unique concept! secret erotica writer James needs Lily (his coworker who's totally NOT his muse) to pretend to be his persona but Lily hates his guts...... or does she 😏

Haircut by PetalsToFish - James gets a new haircut!!

Lipstick by PetalsToFish - James bought Lily a lipstick and she's trying it out 😏

WILF by PetalsToFish - Wizard I'd Like to Fuck 😏

Reputation (Wildest Dreams Version) by PetalsToFish - Slytherin!Lily + enemies to lovers fic <3

State of Grace (Never Saw You Coming) by PetalsToFish - Lily never saw James coming..... literally. a car accident meet-cute (no one's hurt tho :))

Prodigal by PetalsToFish - slightly angsty, exploring Lily through her years at Hogwarts from first year

Girl Crush by PetalsToFish - actually Peter's POV centred around Jily

*[The asterisks next to a fic indicate that I haven't caught up to the latest chapter update]

#ciden recs #jily #james potter #lily evans #fic rec 2023 #this was a pain to format

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sleepingnova · 1 year

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imagine miles morales confessing to you that he is spider man after he saves you from something idk I love him

sure thing anon :) I don't know if you wanted this to be a pre - established relationship, so I'm just gonna go on a limb here and do that. sorry this took so long, I had a sudden burst of motivation. it's 1 am, so this isn't proofread

wc : I don't have a fucking clue, how do you check your word count if you're mobile?? I wanna do that 😭

Friendly neighborhood spider - man

pairing: miles morales x journalist reader

summary : being new york's top journalist has its perks, but it always seems to attract the wrong type of attention.

Journalism. It's not for the faint of heart. When you have deadlines to make, interviews to take care of, and people constantly yelling either at you or around you 24 / 7, everything can be a bit time consuming.

That also means you get a lot of attention. Some good, while others..not so much. Sure, its nice to have a free coffee or cake pop every now and then for the articles and the interviews you do; people have always said you have a way with words.

You really don't even know how you got into this situation. The caffeine kicked in, which made you jumpy to everyone and everything, really. Your eyebags were not very nice to look at and to be honest, you looked a mess.

You woke up late for class, you weren't really feeling like getting out of bed anyways but you did it anyway. No makeup, no nice and preppy clothing, just you; and boy did that bite you in the ass. You were 95% sure that all the things you had in life were handed to you because you were pretty. For instance, the guy who hired you literally took one look at you and said "congratulations, you're hired. we could use a pretty girl like you for coffee runs, right sweetheart?"

With balancing college and your career as a journalist, it's not too difficult. So then why'd you end up in this situation? Getting cornered by 3 guys in a dark ass alleyway, and it's 3:05 am.

No one at your job comes close to you when it comes to performance. Every single time. The newest topic of discussion is Brooklyn's number one trending for 7 years straight : spider - man.

"Who was he?" is your focus. The CEO of your job was retiring, and he held a competition to see who would take his spot. He obviously had you in mind, but he wanted to make things fair and you told him you wanted to earn it, not have it given to you.

The challenge was fairly simple: Get an exclusive interview with spider - man and have him answer a couple questions.

You've done exclusives before, not a problem. Until you realized, major problem. He swings around the city 24/7 how in fucks name were you going to catch him? Until an idea came to you. You stayed up all night, then you got hungry, so you left your dorm and walked down the street to the 24 hour convenience store. You liked documenting what you do, so you were recording on your phone where you were going.

After getting some snacks, you left and couldn't shake the feeling you were being followed. You were. By 4 different people. One of whom was none other than the infamous Miles Morales or, well, spider - man. He saw the guys five minutes ago and didn't want to do anything until he knew for sure you were getting followed.

A bit of time passes and miles realizes, he lost you. He hears a muffled shout from down the street so he runs towards it, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

Now your mind comes back to this exact moment. You can't really make out what the guy in front of you is saying, but you think he's trying to rob you, but why would he need two other guys to rob someone? Especially in the middle of the night. You look dazed and totally not scared at all, Miles thinks, as he's literally invisible right in front of you.

You come out of your trance to one of them forcing you onto the ground. You wiggle and worm your way away, but it's not enough. Fear settled in as you realized what they were doing.

"Hey! Let her go." A voice shouts. You reach into your pocket to grab your pepper spray as you see a bunch of webs and hear hard blows hitting, but it's really dark and you can't see in the dark for shit.

You start running out of the alley and back towards your building, you look back and see the three of them running after you. So you run a little faster, and faster, until you're full on sprinting down the street.

'Thank god my parents forced me into track and field.' you thought, as you got closer and closer to the building. As luck would have it, the doors were locked, and your key was in that bag full of snacks.

They finally catch you, and in a split second, you brace for impact, but it never comes. You're in the air.

You look up and there it is. This is the story that'll get you CEO position, you'll be CEO for the rest of your life. A thought pops into your head as he drops you off at his apartment.

'Was my phone recording everything? Oh shit it was.' you think to yourself as you pull out your phone, your eyes widening.

Another thought pops up. 'oh my god, I'm in spider - man's apartment. it's not even that far from my building.' you wonder as you stop the recording.

"you do know you're going to have to delete that footage, right?" he asks as he lifts up his mask and puts something in his mouth.

"I get your job as a journalist is important, but sweetheart, I gotta keep you safe."

You raise your eyebrow, "how do you know about my job?"

he shrugs as he removes his mask.

"Miles? What the fuck is this? Don't tell me you're.. You're spider - man?" You whisper yell as you back up towards his desk.

"The one and only, love. surprised to see me?" he chuckles.

it was then that everything started to piece together. he always bails on plans, he's always late and has sudden injuries. hell, you even saw his suit in his bag once, but you didn't think anything of it.

"wait.. what does my interview with you have anything to do with keeping me safe?" you raised a brow at him as he plops down on his bed.

"think about it, baby. Me swinging around being spider - man gets pretty complicated when there's an article released by my girlfriend about how she got saved, by me. It puts you in jeopardy, because criminals can find you and use you as bait, and because I don't know that you won't put my identity out there." he explained.

"but you know I'm not like that." you replied.

"yes, I know baby. it's just complicated." he said.

you sighed with a defeated look, knowing that your boss wasn't going to be pleased, but it was for the best.

"if it's alright with you, do you mind if I just stay here for the night? in the morning, on my way to work, I can ask for another key." you asked, softly, him catching your disappointed change in octave.

"yeah sure, that's fine." he replied, walking into his room.

"do you have a spare blanket? I can just sleep out here on the couch." you called to him.

"hm? uh yeah, I think I have a spare. unless you'd like to sleep in my room, with me? the couch is kinda uncomfortable, and it gets kinda cold in here throughout the night." he offered, shyly.

"what about your roommate?" you questioned quietly.

"he won't be back for another week or so, as far as I'm concerned, he'll text if something goes south." he answered.

you thought for a moment, then nodded as you followed him into his room and climbed into his soft bed.

"woah, this is way softer than I thought it would be. what softener do you use when you wash your blankets?" you wondered aloud, cuddling all in his blankets and he chuckled.

"uhhh, I don't know. my roommate does laundry. I don't ever go with him unless he needs me to, which isn't often." he responded.

'ah.' you thought.

"aren't you going to spoon me? c'mon miles, please?" you pleaded with the tired, little puppy dog eyes miles swore he hated, because he could never say no to you when you made that face.

"I'm sorry, I have a couple of essays to write still. Why don't you get the bed nice and warm, then I'll be in bed before you know it." he cooed.

your eyelids started to get heavy as you let out a small hum as you started to fall asleep.

when you woke up the next day, it was 8 am and there was a small basket in the chair next to you.

the basket was filled with your snacks from the night before all wrapped up in the bag still, a hoodie and some clothes to wear to class, a water bottle and a nice book for you to read. on the desk, there was your favorite iced coffee and a note with absolutely beautiful penmanship.

you smiled as you read the letter.

[ hello,

spider man here!

I only have time to answer one of your questions right now, so here it is.

Being a hero isn't about being famous or rich, it's about your own morals and how you stick to them. I started the whole "spiderman" thing when I was 14 years old. It was hard, I had just lost a family member and I felt isolated from my family. You wouldn't believe me if I said that under the mask, I'm just an ordinary person, just like all of you, but I am, really.

I chose to be a hero because I believed in helping others. I really have to leave, so I can't say much more.

Remember, anyone can wear the mask.

Until next time,

—your friendly neighborhood spider man. ]

while you knew that you couldn't tell anyone about who was really under the mask, a part of you felt proud that he trusted you with his secret.

should I make another part to this? likes and reblogs are always appreciated :>

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #into the spider verse #spiderman

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kairismess · 3 months

Note

Can I request the miya twins with their lil sis! s/o who may or may not like sakusa 👉👈

hearts' day 004.

their little sister's got a thing for kiyoomi...

"...she stares too much."

was sakusa's initial thought when he kept catching you, the miya twins' little sister, gazing and glancing at him from afar the gymnasium. your brothers were off warming up and practicing for their next game, while itachiyama had just finished up their match.

you thought your brothers, despite how annoying they can be, were two of the best volleyball players in the whole country–until you witnessed one of the top 3 aces in all of japan play before your very eyes; sakusa kiyoomi the ace of itachiyama high.

you had baited breath every time you watched him pull of such cutting edge straights and cross shots, the way he moved on court was so graceful in a way–yet somewhat intimidating... he had this look in his dark eyes that you couldn't quite read, but you were entranced by because of how enigmatic this man appeared to you.

your elder twin brothers were looking for you all over before their game began, and you were still watching the dark, curly haired ace from a distance, your face all flustered and your eyes shining with deep respect and adoration for sakusa.

"hey, now, just whose team are ya supportin'?!" atsumu asked you with a slight flick on your forehead, annoyance written all over your blonde brother's face. osamu folded his arms over his chest and slowly shook his head sarcastically, as if to say he was disappointed in you for running off to watch itachiyama's match.

as you stood among the crowd of inarizaki students, alumni, and fans, you couldn't help but be stuck in that one moment in time, constantly rewinding back to that match where you got blown away by that mysterious ace. when you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you accidentally bumped into someone coming from the men's restroom.

as you apologized, you looked up at him, and before you was... him. he looked down at you with a cold glare, not really saying anything, whipping out his carry-on lysol spray bottle on him a good distance away from you, and walked away. how rude. but he was hot. but he was pretty damn rude.

"um... hey!" you called out to him as he kept walking away. you didn't let his disinterest deter you from speaking your mind, you were a miya after all, you were one stubborn little missy. with a deep breath, you shouted, "you're amazing!"

...

"...thank you, i guess." the boy mumbled from behind his white mask, turning to look at you with the same dark eyes that met your gaze while he was playing his match. you felt your heart palpitate even faster, and a small, cheeky grin curve up your mouth as you ran up to him, complimenting him a mile a minute, nerding out to him how awesome he was and how you wish you could play a match with him, totally forgetting about your brothers' match...

but it's okay, sakusa surprisingly was able to tolerate you for a few more hours, becoming a little fond of your sweet demeanor. maybe in a few years, something would become of this little interaction with you two... just maybe.

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contentment-of-cats · 10 months

Text

There is not going to be a happy ending.

This isn't a Mission: Impossible movie. I'd be happy to be proven wrong. It would be the grace of the universe to be proven wrong. One of the reasons I liked 'Rogue One' so much is that it was honest. Everyone died, there was no happy ending, the leads didn't ride off into the sunset, they never knew if their plan succeeded. It was so fucking honest that people hated it.

Here's the latest:

Searching the area where the banging noises were estimated to be "yielded negative results."

The thing is that nobody knows what noises are native to the area. It could be survivors, it could be a loose piece of the Titanic's wreckage banging in the current. ROV equipment has been sent in and data shared so that it can be used in future search plans.

"We don't know what they are," Capt. Jamie Frederick, the response coordinator for the First Coast Guard District, said of the noises.

If they have all this equipment, all the personnel, all the resources and can't find the source of the banging, that's all folks. There is less than 24 hours of air in there, the noises have not been repeated. If they are alive at all, if the sub is not the size of a basketball on the bottom of the ocean, the search and rescue will shortly transition to recovery.

From CNN about 1:00 ET:

There will be a total 10 surface assets in the next 24-48 hours.

There are two ROVs actively searching.

Several more are en route and will arrive by tomorrow morning.

There are two back-to-back P-3 flights — one is ongoing — which provides a total of 14 hours of continuous on-scene coverage.

Two C-130 flights — one ongoing now — through the day and into the evening.

Five assets are currently searching an area twice the size of Connecticut.

Connecticut is 5,018 miles in area.

The assets that arrive Thursday and Friday morning are going to be recovery, not rescue.

No heat, no backup systems for power or air, no communication, in the pitch-black dark, limited food and water, running out of air, breathing in the odor of shit and piss from the bucket toilet, the stink of unwashed bodies and fear-sweat.

Or.

A catastrophic implosion happened an hour and forty-five minutes into the dive and they have been dead since around 9:00 Sunday morning.

No happy endings, folks. Only horrible or less horrible.

#oceangate #titanic

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hufflegruff · 11 months

Text

Chapter 3: A Knowing Look

Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Summary: In which Sebastian is whipped and literally everyone can see from a mile away that this is more than friendship.

“I have it on good authority that Andrew Larson is after your girl.” Sebastian wanted to laugh, because he must have misheard. And if not, surely that was just a jest. Also, his girl? Hearing it (even out of Leander’s slimy mouth) was both thrilling and petrifying. But before he could reply, Leander continued. “Made a big scene about how he’s going to ask her out today.” Sebastian swore he could feel the Earth’s rotation come to a halt and his head spin. “But I guess if she’s not your girl - it’s no bother, is it?”

Chapter 3: Leander

“Distracted Sallow? Never took you for a bumbling love sick fool.”

Sebastian couldn’t help the groan that crawled out his throat.

Sebastian had his suspicions, but Leander’s snivelling face confirmed it.

The universe was out to destroy him.

His day had already been bad enough. Leander had bested him in a duel in Defence Against the Dark Arts— which only fed his gargantuan ego. Even Professor Hecat was surprised at how atrocious Sebastian’s form had been. Every misstep and poorly spellcast, she made sure to let him know.

So it was safe to say that Sebastian did not have the patience nor the energy to humour any of Leander’s buffoonery.

He didn’t even really know how it happened. It was all a blur once he stepped onto the duelling platform. Then all of a sudden he was face flat on the ground. His robes haphazardly flung over his head. His legs strewn across the floor.

Merlin, how atrociously humiliating.

Especially when he was still trying to recover from his last humiliating incident in the library.

His last conversation with Poppy had made a total and utter mess of him. He felt like mush. All sentimental flesh and no bones. His mind and heart was still in disarray from their last conversation. When she had so brazenly implied that it was only obvious to assume he was courting the Hero of Hogwarts, the thought of actually courting her was the only thing that ran laps around his cluttered mind.

That was probably why he lost to Leander in the first place.

Ever since their encounter in the library, his eyes felt like they were moving constantly in conflict. Half of the time, they couldn’t stop searching every hallway and every nook and every corner of the castle in search of her. The other half of the time (when they finally found her), his eyes could never quite meet hers.

How did he end up becoming this silly bundle of nerves and contradictions?

That was how Sebastian found himself moping in the Transfiguration courtyard, with only the idle castle pigeons in his company. He had spent the past hour glaring daggers at any mythical statues that deigned to throw pitiful looks his way. He even ignored Ominis’ owls. He had been perfectly content brooding by his lonesome.

That was until Leander-the-knobhead-Prewett showed up.

“Piss off Prewett,” a migraine brewed above the bridge of Sebastian’s nose, “Go spew your nonsense to someone who cares.”

Leander ignored his protests, and perched himself comfortably on the bench next to Sebastian instead. All Sebastian had wanted today was a quiet afternoon to sulk in peace. He wanted to claw his hair out at how he had even been robbed of that. By Leander of all people. He was probably the last person on the bloody planet Sebastian wanted to share this afternoon in the courtyard with.

“Shame. It seems without your girlfriend around, your duelling skills turn poorly.”

“What are you on about?” Sebastian bristled.

Poorly? How dare he.

Tough talk from a glorified overgrown ginger twig.

Also, not this again. Not today. It was one thing from Ominis and Poppy. But Leander? If even one other nosy Gryffindor came up to him to imply that he was courting the girl wonder, Sebastian was going to throw himself off the edge of the Astronomy tower.

(But complicated feelings aside... Sebastian was grateful that she hadn’t been around to see his sorry arse get obliterated in class.)

“Come on. No need to be shy about it, Sallow. The whole school knows you’re soft on the new girl.”

Leander gave him a terribly patronising pat on the back. Instinctually, Sebastian shoved him off.

Him? Soft? That was utterly ridiculous. Softness was for babies. For defenceless maidens. And Sebastian Sallow was not any of those things. He was smart as a whip. Tough as nails. Sharp as a blade. Softness was not in his repertoire.

“Well then, you’re even dumber than you look, cause I’m not soft on anyone.” Sebastian replied snarkily.

Leander snorted, “Half of the year’s got bets on when you’ll finally be caught snogging in the hallways.”

Great. Just fucking wonderful. Of all the things Sebastian needed today, he definitely did not need the mental picture of him snogging his friend senseless wreaking havoc in his restless mind. And fuck off. Snogging in the hallways? Give him a little more credit. Sebastian was a raging flirt, but he wasn’t an exhibitionist. He was more romantic than that. If he was going to snog her it sure as hell wouldn’t be in plain view for the entire student body to see.

Not that he was going to snog her of course. Not that he wanted to snog her.

It was just hypothetical. Scientific even.

But bets? Snogging? God this was probably karmic justice. For that one time in fourth year when he had spread a rumour that Duncan Hobhouse and Constance Dagworth had a romantic tryst in the broom closet in the clock tower. It wasn’t true of course. Which is why Constance was furious, and why Duncan (unsurprisingly) loved it.

“It’s all good and well if other people want to waste their own money. Doesn’t bother me.” Sebastian replied, trying his best to sound aloof.

“Really?” Leander asked coyly, “Come on. We’ve all seen the sappy looks you give her.”

Sebastian was itching to hex the arrogant look off his face.

Genuinely, Sebastian couldn’t believe how many times he had to defend the status of their friendship this week alone. What business was it of others to speculate on such things anyway? Had Hogwarts, with its endless puzzles and mysteries, become so boring that Sebastian’s private life was now the talk of the town?

“Oh relax. Don’t get your knickers in a twist Sallow,” Leander snickered, elated by Sebastian’s foul mood, “I was trying to do you a favour. I have information that might be of interest to you.”

Sebastian leant back further on the bench as his posture gave up. He was tired. He’d spent the better half of the week overthinking. He didn’t want to talk to Leander. He just wanted to laze in the sun and wallow.

“I can’t for the life of me imagine you telling me anything of use.”

He was positive that Leander had not a single wisdom to impart onto him.

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two.” Leander said, as if he’d just said something utterly hilarious but he wouldn’t say why.

“I’d be surprised if you could even string a sentence that could impress me.” Sebastian retorted. He might’ve lost their duel, but he wasn’t about to lose this battle of words.

But then Leander pulled a fast one on him and said her name.

“It’s about her.”

Of course it was about her. How could it not be about her? But simultaneously, how could it be about her? There was nothing that Leander could know about her that Sebastian already didn’t. The Gryffindor was more than likely baiting him, trying to rile him up.

Which is why he should’ve obviously left it — curiosity never did no cats any good. (But Sebastian wasn’t a cat. And never knowing would’ve likely killed him just the same.)

“Enlighten me,” Sebastian said dryly.

He could tell that pleased Leander immensely.

Haughtily, Leander leaned towards Sebastian and whispered, “I have it on good authority that Andrew Larson is after your girl.”

Sebastian wanted to laugh, because he must have misheard. And if not, surely that was just a jest. Also, his girl? Hearing it (even out of Leander’s slimy mouth) was both thrilling and petrifying.

But before he could reply, Leander continued.

“Made a big scene about how he’s going to ask her out today.”

Sebastian swore he could feel the Earth’s rotation come to a halt and his head spin.

Predictably, Leander was looking at Sebastian awfully smug. Like he had spent years since their first day at Hogwarts mining into the depths of Sebastian’s subconscious with cheap insults and backhanded duelling tactics and finally struck gold. He had found the thing that unnerved him most. Unravelled him into a mess of emotions.

Her.

“But I guess if she’s not your girl - it’s no bother, is it?”

It was no bother. Logically, emotionally, in actuality — no bother at all. Not a single fucking one.

So why did it feel like someone had just flung him mercilessly into the black lake? Tied to an anchor pulling him down into a cavern of endless despair? Like someone had grabbed him by the throat and was choking him with intent to kill? And why did he have this sudden, insatiable urge to beat Andrew Larson into a miserable pulp?

She was not his girl, by any means or definition. And as Sebastian had previously clarified, he was not soft on her either. So logically, if some guy wanted to throw their hat into the ring to court her, there was no issue.

But when Sebastian genuinely tried to picture it: Larson making her laugh; putting his gangly arms around her shoulders; staring deeply into her eyes - it just felt wrong. It felt unnatural. It felt like the ground was flipped on its head. It flooded bile in the back of his throat. It didn’t make sense. None of it. And what could a simpleton like Andrew Larson even offer the girl wonder anyways?

Sebastian had never thought much of Andrew Larson before. And that was exactly it. He wasn’t much to think about at all. No redeeming qualities of note. So what made him think that he was worthy of her? She was the Hero of Hogwarts for Merlin’s sake. She was strong and lovely and unyielding and a tempest and way out of his league.

Sebastian was definitely angrier than rationality called for. But even just the thought of Larson’s weasley little hands touching her made his blood boil.

And when blood boiled, it eviscerated everything.

“It’s none of my business.” Sebastian practically spat with his fists clenched.

The words came out more brusquely than he intended (but less than he truly felt).

To his credit, Leander was surprised, “What? Don’t you want to know where and when he’s going to do it?”

“What fucking for?”

Leander looked at him condescendingly, “Well I don’t know, to save her from Larson’s grubby hands or something?”

“You and I both know she doesn’t need saving,” Sebastian affirmed with an eye roll.

“Come on Sallow. You’re having me on. I know you’re just dying to put that Ravenclaw in his place.”

Sebastian would love nothing more. But he didn’t want to give Leander the upper hand.

Leander scoffed, “Fine whatever. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you. I was trying to help you out of the goodness of my heart. Don’t come crying to me when you find out that she’s decided to try going out with Larson.”

Almost dramatically, Leander made his move to stand up and go. But it was all for show of course. He just wanted Sebastian to beg for his help.

But Sebastian wasn’t paying him any mind. Too busy caught in the storm of his own emotions.

Because the more he thought about it — the more he took a mental magnifying glass and really, really scrutinised the damn feeling — the more he was inclined to believe that perhaps he was soft on her.

For starters, he was always worrying about her. Whether she was safe on her adventures. Whether she’d eaten breakfast. Whether she was tired from the weight of being so depended on. Was that softness? Whenever she looked at him, he felt terrified. Like his heart would race out of his chest from the sight of her. Was that softness?

Was softness meant to feel this anxious? That didn’t sound right.

It didn’t sound at all like the romances that maidens sang in their folk songs. They made it sound so easy. Nothing about his feelings for her ever felt easy to understand. For Sebastian, there were no butterflies or angel songs or clouds parting or hippogriff rides off into sunset. It was nothing like that. It always felt urgent. It always felt like endless running and scalding fire and falling off the edge of the universe all at once.

Like she was her own blinding force of magnetism pulling him towards her, off the edge of an unknown precipice. And Sebastian didn’t mind at all. Hell, even if she didn’t tug him, even if she protested — he would’ve marched right up to her, grabbed her hand and jumped off the edge with her without a second thought.

Maybe… in its own complex and twisted way, that meant that he was soft on her.

(And maybe that was the most terrifying thing about it all.)

God. That meant that he couldn’t let Andrew anywhere near her.

With renowned vigour, Sebastian pulled Leander by his robe and demanded.

“Tell me.” Sebastian finally.

Leander stopped his pacing. Check and mate. Hook, line and sinker. He knew that he would cave; Leander had him right where he wanted him — and the fucker had never looked so delighted with himself.

“I knew that you’d need my help.”

Like they had a mind of his own, his legs moved first.

First they walked briskly, and then suddenly they were sprinting at reckless speeds towards her. God knows why, because he surely didn’t. Sebastian was so single-minded in his run that he didn’t hear the complaints of the castles sleepy paintings, nor Imelda Reyes yells to slow the fuck down, nor the screeches from the gaggle of first years running from the madman he must have appeared to be.

He was running headfirst into … god knows what. On the precarious word of Leander Prewett. On the word that some other guy had thought he was foolishly worthy to ask for even a slither of her attention.

The running was endless. It was stairs and narrow arches and stretches of hallways. But he wasn’t going to stop. Not even a radical force of nature could stop him in his path. Tunnel vision would get him to that greenhouse; Sebastian’s blind faith would make sure of it.

Because now that he finally could admit to himself that maybe he was soft on her. That maybe their friendship was dearer to him than most other friendships. That maybe all of this was (at most) a crush — he couldn’t let Andrew Larson derail everything before he even started.

Not that he had a solid plan or anything.

Which was abundantly clear to him now that he found himself standing in front of the towering doors that led into the greenhouse. He was out of breath and logical reasoning. If he did see them... What would he do about it?

What could he do about it?

But with no time to waste, Sebastian guessed he would just have to find out.

So he pushed open the doors.

And once he stepped into the greenhouse, Sebastian couldn’t help but grimace. Of course someone as mediocre as Andrew Larson would pick somewhere as basic as the Greenhouse to try to court the girl wonder. He probably thought that he could woo her with a flower or two. That if she didn’t have any feelings for him to begin with, she was a simple enough girl that a bouquet was enough to sway her with his affection.

But he would be wrong. Because she wasn’t the kind of girl that would go on a romantic dalliance with a boy she hardly knew. With a Ravenclaw no less. She was too smart, too witty, too compelling to be wasted on someone like him.

She had always been better suited with Slytherins anyway. At least they had the cunningness to match her endless ferocity.

(Or — as Sebastian tried his best to avoid saying — she was better suited with him.)

From a distance, he could hear quiet chatter.

And when he looked, between the restricted view of foliage, Sebastian felt a pang in his heart at the sight of them.

They were standing in a secluded alcove of the greenhouse light. She was drenched in sunlight and surrounded by all things flora — and even in these distressing times, he couldn’t help but think that she looked bewitching.

… And beside her was Andrew.

All he wanted to do was run up to her and pull her out of his orbit. The itch in his fingers to reach out to touch her was stronger than ever; her gravitational pull was overwhelming. But she would’ve probably hated him for it. The girl wonder would never fancy herself a damsel in distress.

But maybe she would forgive him if he said that he was saving himself. From the grief of watching someone try to claim her as their own.

Nevertheless, Sebastian refrained and casted a quick disillusionment charm. Staying stealthily behind this fern planter would have to suffice.

As he tip-toed closer, Sebastian heard Andrew’s pompous voice ring out:

“... I mean, it’s no secret. I think you’re absolutely incredible. And stunning. So I was wondering if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to Hogsmeade next weekend?”

When he heard Andrew speak, all Sebastian could see was blinding red. Gone were the lacewing flies in his chest. They were replaced with a feeling more feral and bitter and grotesque.

In the air sat a thick, heavy pause. It was silent. With fear and anticipation frothing at the base of his throat, Sebastian gripped his own hands in wait. So hard that bruises were probably blooming.

Surely she was going to reject him… Right?

“I’m…” She began tentatively.

Just as Andrew leaned in expectantly (patronisingly even), Sebastian leaned in uneasiness. The tension was palpable. Sebastian could taste it in the air, weighing on the crease of his brow, splitting cuts into the skin of his lips.

Surely she was going to say no… Right?

Finally, she replied, “That’s a very lovely offer Andrew, but I’m afraid that I can’t take you up on it. Thank you for thinking of me though.”

After she had spoken, Sebastian let go of the shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding in.

The world wasn’t in peril anymore, he wasn’t seeing red. Her words were like oxygen to his battered lungs; he could finally breathe again.

Her voice had sounded perfectly diplomatic. Polite and wonderfully neutral. No hint of derision, with just the right amount of compassion. And Sebastian couldn’t thank the heavens enough for it.

Thank Merlin. Thank Salazar. Thank any and all of the Gods that looked down upon him.

But almost comically, Andrew’s face quickly sour. Just a second ago, the Ravenclaw had been brimming with bravado. Now he looked like an embittered spoiled child who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. Sebastian could tell that this was clearly not the way that Andrew had hoped that this would go — and he had never been more ecstatic for someone’s flagrant misery.

Sebastian had a feeling that he wouldn’t take the rejection with grace, but he hoped that the Ravenclaw would have the sense to not make a scene.

“Come on. It’s just one butterbeer. Can’t hurt, can it?” Andrew sounded almost annoyed.

From his hiding spot, Sebastian almost laughed. What nerve did this dunce have to be annoyed? It seemed that the girl wonder felt the same.

She forgoed diplomacy, and raised her brow disapprovingly.

“Well, I’m sorry. But I’m simply not interested.”

“Well you’re not taken are you?” Andrew had the gall to retort.

She hesitated. Only for a brief moment, but significant enough for Sebastian to catch it. He couldn’t help but wonder — why did she stop?

“No. I’m not.”

Andrew went to grab her wrist, “Well then the least you could do is not reject a man’s kind offer to take you out.”

Sebastian bristled through gritted teeth. Watching Andrew touch her was the last straw. He never thought twice about him until today, and now Sebastian hated him with every agitated fibre in his being. The nerve of this idiot. How dare he. Adrenaline spiked into his veins and before his brain had time to think, he was ready to punch the living daylights out of him—

But then she wrung her hand out of his grasp, and raises her wand at the ready as an act of defiance. When she glared at him, her eyes were ice cold and pure venom. Sebastian had never seen her so furious, it was almost impressive what Andrew managed to incite out of her.

“I don’t need to do anything. I don’t owe anyone anything. Especially boys who refuse to take a lady’s refusal with grace,” She snapped back.

Sebastian retreated, and stood down. She was comfortably standing her ground and he wanted to jump for joy. He had never been more enthralled by her than in this moment.

Andrew snorted. Which Sebastian could tell displeased the girl wonder even more.

“I think I should go.” She said brusquely.

But before she could, Andrew rudely brushed past her shoulders, and muttered indignantly, “Whatever. Don’t bother. I’ll leave.”

When Andrew began to storm off, she was left in the lurch to watch the belligerent boy walk off in bewilderment. She stared agape, as if she was unsure whether or not to dignify his rude behaviour with a response.

But Sebastian wasn’t about to let him off this easily.

Just as Andrew started to stomp his way up the steps past the pond garden. A wicked idea struck Sebastian. As quickly as the idea came to him, he lifted his wand and pointed at the Ravenclaw’s feet.

“Impedimenta,” Sebastian whispered.

And almost as if he was moving in slow motion, Sebastian savoured every delectably humiliating expression that flickered on Andrew Larson’s face as he fell off the cobbled staircase; face first into the depths of the greenhouse pond.

Splash!

In less than five hours, the entire school had heard all about Andrew Larson’s failed attempt to court the girl wonder. The highlight of the tale was of course, his ungraceful dive head-first into the greenhouse pond.

The rumours first started when the Ravenclaw was seen storming out of the greenhouse annex drenched silly, with a nest of foliage poking out of his unruly hair. He had left a squelchy trail of footsteps behind him, and a flock of Gryffindors girls in speculating hushed whispers.

But then the details became public knowledge; and how that came to be would forever be a mystery.

When Ominis had first found out, he asked Sebastian if had heard the news. Ominis eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing more when Sebastian shrugged in response. He clearly suspected that Sebastian knew more than he was letting on.

At the dinner table, Ominis mused, “I wonder how they found out.”

Sebastian replied, “Yeah. I wonder.”

After expertly deflecting all of Ominis’ questions. He excused and made his way On his way back to the Slytherin common room, just on a corner leading up towards the grand staircase, he bumped into her.

“Oh, Sebastian!” She said warmly.

Hearing his own name come out of her mouth, Sebastian felt his heart literally skip a beat. Which was preposterous, because what business did hearts have skipping at all? Vital functions shouldn’t malfunction at the mere mention of a name.

Sebastian had thought about nothing but her in the last five hours; it felt like he had experienced a lifetime of emotions in that short span of time alone. There were so many words and feelings that he wanted to say to her. So many revelations and just as many answered questions.

“Hi.” Sebastian said.

But that was the only thing that he managed to get out.

“I feel like… I haven’t seen you in a while,” She said.

It had been ages, Sebastian wanted to scream. It had been a week since they had properly spent any time together; since the last time they were in the library. It had been disgustingly too long — but how could he tell her that without sounding like an utter desperate fool?

“It has been a while. I imagine you’ve been busy.”

“Mmhm,” She said absentmindedly.

Her eyes briefly glazed over, as if she was contemplating saying more to him. Sebastian had a feeling he already knew what was weighing on her conscience.

“I heard about Larson.” Sebastian said.

A light blush dusted on her cheeks.

“Oh… You heard about that?” She chucked slightly nervously. In an attempt to hide her discomfort, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, which stubbornly kept falling loose. Sebastian had to tell himself not to reach out and tuck it out of the way for her.

“It’s all anyone can talk about.” Sebastian conveniently left out the part that he had actually been there to witness it all.

She grimaced.

“Oh, it’s nothing newsworthy, I just told him that I wasn’t interested—”

“Good.” Sebastian interrupted (much too) abruptly.

Her eyes shot up to his, startled by the suddenness of his reply. Like a deer in headlights, he looked just as bewildered by the sound of his own voice. Fuck, did he really just say good? He cursed himself for how overly eager that must have sounded, and hoped that she didn’t read too much into it.

“I mean… it’s good you spoke your mind.” Sebastian clarified quickly.

She looked at him dubiously, with inquisitive eyes. Sebastian felt a chill run down his spine. He must have said too much with so little, because she was looking at him rather intensely. He couldn't help but wonder if she could now see through him, peering into his mess of his thoughts and emotions.

Was she looking for an answer to something in particular? And did she find it?

But if she did, she didn’t reveal it.

“Right.” She finally said.

Then slowly, but surely, a smile grew on the edges of her lips. Like a soft patch of shade on a blistering summer day, it soothed his temperamental chest.

When Sebastian had tried to picture her and Andrew together, it all felt wrong. But right here, in this moment just between them, when she was looking straight at him, all felt right in the world. Like peace was at his footbed. Like his contentment was in the palm of her delicate hands.

Sebastian couldn’t believe that he ever denied being soft on her.

And he couldn’t believe it took so many people — including Leander for fucks sake — to see it.

“Join me tomorrow at dinner?” Sebastian said, before hurriedly adding, “And Ominis of course. Feels like it’s been a while”

She smiled and said, “Sure.”

This time, Sebastian didn’t fight the smile on his face, “Great.”

And in that moment, Sebastian did genuinely believe all was great. ——

Notes

This chapter was so fun to write but also it took me WAY longer than I thought it was going to. It's also wayyyy longer than chapter 1 and 2, so I hope you guys enjoyed it.

I apologise for the Leander slander. But tbh in some ways he's team SebxMc! So maybe we're all actually pro Leander

I also apologise for the Andrew Larson slander. tbh don't know a thing about him, so he probs doesn't deserve such hate. But oh well, the things we do for romance.

Shoutout to @wt-fxck @ithinkweallsing @mysticrose1210 @eleanorstaghart @deliciouslyferal @oliviajdjarin @80strashbag @radical-ghostface @tlnyjoong @fall727 @lololpiz @ssimpy for all your lovely comments and reblogs!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!

#Sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow imagines #hogwarts legacy

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hoodzgyal · 9 months

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Dick literally can’t even handle not being able to see or touch you for a few days because he gets extremely pent up + kind of mad at you for not being with him (hes aware it’s irrational, but he can’t help but get in his feelings sometimes) so he ends up filming himself jerking off/riding a toy that he totally didn’t steal from you and sending it to you at some ungodly time of night. He ends up cumming so many times that, by the time you get to the last video, he’s shooting blanks, tears r dripping down his cheeks all while he’s going on about how bad he needs to be in you and that he wish he wishes he wasn’t wasting so much cum that should be going in you.

OHHHHH OH OHHH EDNRGSINRGJNEG I WANNA SIT ON HIS FACE OMG ??????

uh… uhm uhm umm mmmm like. think ab it ??? he sends u a series of videos at like 3 am in the middle of his work trip, hundreds of miles away. in the darkness of the hotel room, you can see that he’s bouncing on your pink dildo, pathetic whines and cries falling from his lips. he gives his cock messy, fast strokes, already lubricated from cumming earlier. there are tears in his eyes are he steels himself, trying to speak into the camera through all the stimulation he’s putting himself through.

“baby i- ah… fuck,” he whines, trying to keep quiet, “miss you so bad, baby… need you, all of you right now.”

the series of videos ends with him cumming so hard he cries, whining about how he misses you and and can’t wait to get home. he also weakly laughs about how he knows that you’re watching and you oughta go to sleep ‘cuz he knows you have work in the morning. need him so bad, its not even funny.

#— evie speaks #— evie’s boytoys !#video vixen!dick grayson ??????????#MMYYYYYY GODDDDDDDUGHHHHHH #dick grayson x black!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson smut

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katsu28 · 10 months

Note

hii my love i hope ur okay <3

uhhh Sunflower - drunken rambling about their adoration ; with tasm! peter if u want to bcos he’s my babygirl djfjjs <3

— ivy <3

@inkluvs i adore u and peter <3

sunflower: drunken rambling about their adoration, tasm!peter parker x reader, 0.9k

You didn’t even know Peter could get drunk, honestly. Something about a higher metabolism from the spider bite allowing him to burn off alcohol fast enough so that he never actually got drunk no matter how much he drank.

That assumption was quickly struck down when you heard knocking at your window at almost one in the morning, right when you were about to go to bed.

It wasn’t uncommon for your vigilante boyfriend to swing by your place after a night of patrolling, always telling you that he wanted you to be the lasting memory at the front of his mind before he fell asleep. In a world full of bad, you were the good, and that’s what he needed to remember.

Sometimes he was so tired he even stayed the night, passing out curled around you with his face pressed against your neck. Those were the times when he disappeared early before you woke up in the morning, only leaving you a messily scribbled note telling you he’d see you later. You kept those notes in a box on your desk and looked at them whenever you missed Peter a little too much.

This time, however, you were surprised to see that he wasn’t in his suit like he usually was, just sweatpants and a hoodie under that battered army green jacket he always wore, still crouched on your fire escape rapping his knuckles against the glass with the dopiest grin on his face.

“Peter? What—what are you doing here? Where’s your suit, someone could’ve seen you!” You were hurling questions at him at a mile a minute, but he just blinked slowly, swaying on his feet a little bit.

“You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you?”

“I mean it.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No, I’m…maybe. Just a little. Like, this much.” He held his thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart, snickering.

“Yeah, sure,” You snorted, helping him through the window so he didn’t topple over into the room. As soon as his feet were planted on the ground, he kissed you, slipping his hand around the back of your neck. Peter tasted a little bit like beer, but you didn’t really mind, not when he was kissing you this deeply. “What was that for?” You panted as soon as you pulled away, bracing your hands against his chest after his kiss had stolen the breath out of yours.

“Because you’re pretty. Because I love you.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Not a lot.”

“Here, drink some water.” You went to grab the water bottle from your bedside table, but a web stretched past you before you could reach it, hitting the metal with a thwip and whipping it back into Peter’s hand.

He took a large swig from it, snickering when you gave him a pointed look. “I’m not drunk, see. I totally nailed that.”

“You’re so cool, Pete.” You hummed idly, tugging him out of his jacket and tossing it off to the side, guiding him towards your bed. He stumbled over his own socked feet a few times, but you were there to steady him.

“Have I told you how much—how much I love you?” He hiccupped, flopping onto the mattress with no real strength behind the movement. You made a noise of acknowledgement, busying yourself with getting Peter’s sneakers off instead. “I love you so much it hurts, right here,” He jabbed a finger against his chest, right above his heart, letting out a small ‘ow’ with the force of it. You stifled a laugh, plucking the glasses off his face and setting them down next to your alarm clock. “You’re so smart, and—and sweet, and kind and…pretty. Did I say pretty yet?”

“Yeah, I think you might’ve mentioned it.” Your mouth quirked into a warm smile at his drunken rambling. Even drunk, Peter knew how to make you feel loved beyond words. You switched off the lamp beside you, shrouding the room in darkness. The only light was the moon outside, and it washed over the softened angles of Peter’s face almost angelically.

“Oh. Really? I don’t remember that.” He frowned, scratching his cheek aimlessly. Then he shrugged, picking up the edge of your blanket and shoving his lanky self under it, shimmying around until he was satisfied with his comfort. “Anyways, we’re atoms.”

You had to stifle a laugh at his blunt statement. “What?”

“Y’know, like, atoms? How they’re…what’s the fucking word, what’s the—oh! Attract! How they’re just, like, super attracted to each other.” He held one hand up above him, then the other a few inches away. “If this hand is you, and this hand is me, we’re like atoms. Attracted to each other.” He smacked his hands together, linking his fingers through each other. “You’d be a pretty atom.”

“Pete, atoms repel each other once they get close enough.”

Peter’s mouth dropped onto shocked ‘oh’, eyes widening. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that you and—you and me, we’re meant to be together.” He turned his head to look at you, nearly going cross eyed at your close proximity. “Oh, hello! C’mere.” He pulled you into his arms without a second thought, tucking his chin over the top of your head and sighing contently.

“I love you, you nerd,” You said softly, pressing a kiss against the hand closest to your face. When Peter didn’t respond after a few seconds, you furrowed your eyebrows, craning your neck to look up at him only to see that he’d already fallen fast asleep. You weren’t surprised, he’d been under a lot of stress lately and probably hadn’t been sleeping much because of it.

All you could do was hope he’d sleep well here with you.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker fic #andrew garfield

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chihuahuawashere · 7 months

Text

Crews reaction!!!

Nami: she was happy at first because she was the first one to see this slow love burn go down but after walking in on them a couple of time she was fed up and start making rules and when or where your allowed to make out on the ship

Ussop: didnt have a clue about the slow love burn the only way he found on was walking in on them tongue WWE wrestling on another in the dark in the boys quarters. And immediately got traumatized couldn’t eat for a couple of days and refused to talk about what he saw

Sanij: thought he heard Luffy in the kitchen at 3:00 am got mad ran over there and found Zoro and Luffy food making out. Sanji kicked their asses out of the kitchen wasn’t able to look out food normally again. And is pisssd that Zoro is getting more action then he is.

Robin: saw this coming from a mile away and finds this all amusing

Chopper: had to sit them down to give them “the talk” and how to properly use protection and did the Sex Ed this we all had to sit through in Middle School

Franky: has done freakier things in his like and completely supports their relationship but hates how loud they are at night sometimes “totally not super”

Brook: seen and done everything in his life as well so he’s not surprised but starts playing ‘careless whispers’ every time they make out and the crew is traumatized by this song now but Luffy laughs every time he hears it

Junibe: one of his first day on the crew he walked in on Zolu getting down and dirty in the bath tub and walks into the kitchen with horror in his eyes and the whole crew KNOWS that looks and say “welcome to the crew”

#one piece #roranoa zoro #monkey d luffy #one piece zolu #zolu #straw hat nami #one piece luffy #one piece zoro #op sanji #usopp #nico robin #op franky #op brook #op jinbe #tony tony chopper

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molly-ghuleh · 9 months

Note

Hi pretty, i want "i think i deserve a kiss" for the prompts with Cardinal Copia, pretty please ? i love you, you're amazing!!!

Kiss Prompts: "I think I deserve a kiss"

Cardinal Copia x reader

SFW! Contains: assistant trope, overworked trope, sickeningly sweet fluff, pining, suggestive if you squint, the titties and beer mug

Thank you for requesting my lovely!!! <3

Kiss prompts

The Cardinal's office is bathed in soft light from his various mismatched lamps. The Sun had set hours ago, but there was an important deadline that had caught up with the two of you. You, as the Cardinal's Clergy assistant, dutifully sit at your little desk in the corner of his office as Copia hunches over his own in the center of the room.

"What time is it?" You ask softly. You're sure it must be past midnight by now. This damned budget report from Papa's most recent tour is due on Sister Imperator's desk by the morning, and that woman wakes up unfathomably early.

Copia pulls up his cassock sleeve to glance at his watch. "It is, eh, twenty-three past midnight," he says. His voice is gravelly with the lack of sleep.

The two of you had been awake since six that morning with the sole intention of compiling every expense report under the Ministry's roof. Receipts, invoices, and account statements litter Copia's desk. He dictates each total to you and you type away on your laptop, entering the data into a mile-long spreadsheet that makes your computer run hotter than the fires of Hell.

Judging by the way Copia runs his fingers through his hair, there's still a ways to go--you'd learned to read his body language during your tenure as his assistant. You sigh and stand from your chair. Your back pops in a concerning manner, but you're far past caring. "Time for another pot of coffee?" You offer. Even if he says no, you'll make one for yourself if only to stretch your legs.

"You are far too good to me," Copia utters softly, looking up at you. His hair falls over his forehead from how often he'd ruffled it in frustration. His biretta had long since been discarded. The top few buttons of his cassock are undone, making him look delightfully unkempt.

You want to run your fingers through his hair.

"Maybe I just like coffee," you tease back, lips quirking with the sarcasm. Being tired makes you sassy. It's something that the Cardinal has said he likes about you. It makes working late more fun, he'd said, and that phrase had fuelled your hopeless little crush for months.

He simply huffs a laugh through his nose and you exit his office, mugs in hand, your slippers (which you kept under your desk for nights like these) scuffing along the tile of the dark corridor. The kitchens are a short walk from the Clergy's office wing. You're surprised there isn't a groove carved into the floor tracing your path from Copia's office to the coffee pot with how much caffeine the two of you manage to consume.

Despite late nights like these, the work is rewarding. You're on good terms with most of the Upper Clergy (you never know where you stand with Sister on any given day), you have special privileges to the Clergy break room, and you get to spend your days with Cardinal Copia, pining after him like some lovesick teenager.

At least you have your hand.

You rinse out the used mugs while the new pot of coffee brews. You prepare yours how you like, and make his with the attention to detail of a coffee shop barista who subsists on tips alone. Copia likes it lukewarm and sickeningly sweet. He would prefer a latte of course, but you don't have the time nor the energy to make one, so he'll have to settle for half-coffee-half-creamer and an unholy amount of sugar. Still, you smile, because you know exactly what he'll say when you place the mug in front of him, and you know exactly which witty retort you'll think in your head.

You make your way back to his office, bumping the heavy wooden door open with your hip while you hold one mug in each hand. His favorite is a plain white ceramic mug with the words 'rat dad' in bold black letters--a gift you'd given him after a year of working as his assistant. Your mug is a hand-me-down from him, his second-favorite, which says 'titties and beer' and which you're pretty sure Terzo had given him as a joke.

"Here," you say softly as you place his mug in an open space on his desk.

Copia sighs in relief and looks up at you. "I don't deserve you, tesoro," he says. He immediately takes a sip of the coffee and hums.

And your witty retort: "Yes, well, I think I deserve a kiss," you think as you turn to move towards your own desk.

The sound of Copia sputtering and coughing behind you makes you jump. Your tongue tingles with the sensation of recent words. They practically echo in the relative silence of his office, and immediately you realize your mistake. Your heart plummets.

You get sassy when you're tired, but you also tend to say what you're thinking.

"You, eh, you-- what?" Copia stutters. You can barely bring yourself to look at him out of sheer embarrassment.

"N-nothing!" You respond, too quickly and too high-pitched. He'd heard you, and you know he heard you, and he knows that you know.

You sit in your desk chair and pretend nothing happened. The monitor of your laptop does nothing to hide your deep blush or the line between your brows.

Copia's office is silent for a few moments, until his chair squeaks in the familiar sound of him standing. You brace yourself to be reprimanded, to be told that it is wholly inappropriate to say such things in front of your boss, or to be fired completely. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Instead, you see the deep red of Copia's cassock at the edge of your little desk, and he clears his throat. You swallow dryly and meet his gaze, absolutely mortified. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down the back of your neck. Stupid, stupid--

"I- I think you may be right, tesoro," Copia says, his voice shaking slightly. His lips quirk up at the corners which makes his mustache twitch. "We have, eh... danced around it for too long, yes?"

Oh, sweet Lucifer take me now.

Copia braces his hands on your desk and leans forward, bringing his face inches away from your own. You can feel his warm breath ghost over your lips. "I think you are long overdue for a kiss, dolce. Many, in fact."

Before you can say anything, he places his lips so sweetly against yours. His mustache tickles your top lip and his nose bumps against yours, but it doesn't matter. You're kissing him, and it's real, and it feels good. Where your heart had sunk before, it practically leaps out of your chest, hammering against your sternum. You lean into the kiss.

Copia pulls away far too soon and you chase his lips, but your cursed desk gets in the way. Instead you stare at him dumbly. Are you drooling? You might be drooling.

"The budget report, tesoro," Copia gently reminds you. Right. The budget report. "But, I plan to kiss you again and again once it is done, si? You, eh... deserve it."

#cardinal copia #copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader #ghost #writing prompts #kiss prompts #ghost band x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #baelzbu

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kachowder · 1 year

Note

I am already in love with the pink lemonade cowboy 🥰😍

Vampire!Cowboy! Yandere x GN! Reader

——————-(<3)—————

A/n: I do not condone yandere behavior, this is purely fictional. This will be a short series. If you want to see what our yandere looks like you can see him here <3 also this technically isn’t a slow burn but the juicy stuff will show up in part 2

Part 1

——————————————————-

The rain thudded dully against the roof of your old rusty car. Your windshield wipers squeaked across your windows, flinging off thin sheets of water that blurred the dark road in front of you. Puddles reflected in your single headlight.

You’re grandfather was a cruel man.

As sweet as honey, you loved your grandfather dearly. He was always especially generous on the holidays.

But he was cruel. Because while he was on his “retirement vacation”, he left his massive farm in your care.

You! The grandchild who hadn’t done a lick of farm work in their entire life! Hell the closest thing to a farm you’d ever been to was a petting zoo when you were- what 6??

How were you expected to do anything remotely useful! In fact you were 90% sure that these crops and animals would be dead and gone within a week under your care.

But ohoho! Lucky you! You grandfather has a helper on the farm! A complete Fucking stranger who you’d never met before was going to be sharing a house with you for the next 6 weeks! Thank you grandpa! Love you SOO much!

You did love him. But you were irritated and you felt like you had a right to be so! He dropped this bombshell on you, not even asking if you had any plans!

Which you didn’t but that wasn’t the point!

Plans could’ve popped up at any moment!

With a very stressed sigh you pulled your beaten up car into the drive way of the rustic red farm house. Your engine wheezed with exhaust as your wheels rolled to a bumpy stop on the wet pavement. It took about 5 hours to drive to where your grandpa lived. Which meant you couldn’t just stay at your house and visit everyday to water the animals and feed the crops or whatever.

You physically had to stay here.

I mean it was a paid vacation but come on! You’d rather be working at the café than on a farm! At least you knew what you were doing there!

You let your head fall softly against the steering wheel, sighing again at your circumstances.

“Whatever. No use in complaining now.”

“Probably not kid.”

“Holy Sh-!”

The violent sound of your car horn scattered birds and animals for miles. Though there were few to begin with in this dreary weather. The stranger who had peered through your open window winced, covering his ears with a snarl.

“Oh shit- i am so sorry you just- actually- no what the fuck you scared the shit out of me!”

Typically you weren’t one to point fingers but you were in a particularly bad mood today so you felt that it was justified. Plus he did scare you!

The strangers lips twisted into a grimace, and you felt your body sending various warning signals when his turquoise irises narrowed down on your figure. Jeez this dude had a judgmental stare. You prayed this guy wasn’t your grandfathers “help”.

The mystery man clicked his tongue. “You the old mans grandkid?”

Fuck

You glared deeply at the totally not gorgeous cowboy, “..and I suppose you’re his “helper”?”

The stranger didn’t seem to take very kindly to your attitude, what with the way he leaned his head a little further into your car window to stare you down.

You had half the nerve to try and close it on him but the dumb thing was a window crank and you wouldn’t have gotten it up in time anyway.

“The names Micah. Your pops calls me Mickey. It’s either Micah or Mic to you, kid.”

Asshole!

“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age Mickey.”

He didn’t respond to that, merely pulling himself out of the car with a deep exhale.

He backed up slightly from the vehicle, you assumed to wait for you to get out, but when he lifted his boot up you got a little more worried

“Hey what’re you-“

With a sharp kick, Mickey smashed his boot into the lower side of your car door causing it to shoot open like a spring lock. Aka causing you to flop out onto your ass with a loud cuss.

Crying out you scowled deeply at the cowboy who didn’t even bother to send you a snarky look in return.

You could feel the water drizzling through your hair and clothes.

Looking painfully disinterested, the redhead(?) began walking away from your slowly soaking form. Leaving you to bring in your luggage. In the rain.

“I thought cowboys were supposed to be friendly or something..” you growled somewhat pitifully into the empty cold rain.

Glancing down at your wet knees you sighed, beginning to pick yourself off the ground, in hopes to spare a little of your own dignity.

Though it was for not when you felt your non grippy shoes slide against a stray patch of mud.

You didn’t have time to do much more than gasp when you felt yourself fall forward, only to land into a surprisingly secure and- kinda cold, set of arms.

Your breathed deeply for a moment, pulling back to stare at Mickey, who’s own eyes peered down at you from the brim of his now spotted hat.

You didn’t want to acknowledge the size of his forearms, or how you could feel practically everything under that flimsy wife beater he wore despite the weather.

You swore you heard him mumble something along the lines of “city folk”, but you became too distracted when noticing the purple spotted umbrella that now shade the two of you from the rain.

“Oh..”

You think you finally saw a small smile on the cowboys lips.

“Still thinkin I ain’t nice?”

You flushed, mostly in embarrassment at the fact that he heard you.

“Ah dip, you heard that?”

His laugh was fucking hot dude.

“You’d be surprised on how much I can hear, Kid.”

“Creepy but okay.”

Mickey laughed again though a bit shorter this time before propping you back up. You swore you heard a deep inhale, but you weren’t sure due to the sound of rain pelting the umbrella and car.

“Why don’t you head inside. I’ll grab your luggage.”

“Oh no, I can take care of it-“

The man glared at you, though you felt it was considerably less hostile than it had been originally.

“Just get in or else the foods gon’ get cold.”

Food?

“Say less!”

You had half a mind to be embarrassed when Mickey laughed at the sight of you practically skipping up to the porch and through the rustic door.

—————————————-

There was a loud and aggressive knocking at your door.

You decided being cruel was a country thing.

Because while Mickey had been sweet enough to make you dinner last night and breakfast this morning, he also rudely woke you up at the ass crack of dawn and kicked you out into the field to help with the chores.

Now mind you, typically you were a morning person! A go-getter of sorts! But the sun wasn’t even awake yet! So why were you out here picking peas, tomatoes, squash, peppers and so on, when you could be sleeping peacefully, cozied up in the slightly itchy and heavy wool sheets of your guest bed! Something about “the morning dew” apparently.

You weren’t even sure how Mic got in your room after you didn’t respond, seeing as you were once again, 90% sure you locked the door. Then again, the food he made practically sent you into a coma once you were done.

You weren’t sure if it was coincidence or not, but Micah had made all your favorite foods that evening. You wanted to assume your pa had told him, but you didn’t believe for a second that, that rude cowboy would go out of his way to make your favorite foods for you.

Especially considering he didn’t eat any of it.

All he had was this weird cup of, what you could only assume was wine or cranberry juice and a few pieces of a steak he popped in the oven.

This guy was weird.

“Hey kid! You done pickin or are your city hands to sensitive to finish the job?”

Speak of the bastard and he will come! Unfuckenfortunately

Your scowl was probably noticeable from a mile away, and especially from where the tall country man stood, given his smug grin as he walked over to examine your work.

He whistled mockingly, freaky blue-green eyes scanning your baskets.

“Not bad, for city folk anyway. But here.-“ crouching down in front of you the, ginger(?) reached his rough hands out and softly pulled the baskets from your arms.

“You wanna keep your herbs separated from each other. Some of them are harder to tell from others and you don’t wanna go mixin them up.”

You watched quietly, mostly in your own mental brooding, as he carefully separated the different herbs and spices from each other. His hands were large, but you noticed how precise he seemed to be. He had to have been working here quite sometime, cuz you couldn’t tell much of a difference between half of the things he was organizing.

“There we go.” His voice was soft this morning. Blending in with the sound of the faint winds, and the after rain dripping from the gutters and into the soil. It was still too early for the birds to be chirping. The sun still had yet to rise but the stars gave just enough light to see the gentle gaze the farm boy had set on you.

This moment of silence was odd for you. Especially given the two of you bickering since your arrival yesterday. This guy before you made no sense. Like a switch, he was harsh and snappy, and then gentle and calm. Caring almost. At times he almost acted like he’d known you for years. Though that seemed to mostly happen when he was doing something around the farm.

Caught up in your own thoughts, you missed the way Mickeys eyes were burning into you. They moved languidly over your figure, taking in your attire, dressed more warmly for the morning chill. Nearly every part of you was covered.

Except your neck. You had forgotten to pack a scarf apparently.

The pale man’s jaw clenched tightly, his shoulders tensing before he scowled and stood up, interrupting the once peaceful atmosphere.

“Get up. We still have work to do.”

His tone was cold and biting like the morning. Your breath came out in foggy puffs. But his didn’t. At least you couldn’t see it from where you were.

You watched with furrowed brows knit confusion as the cowboys boots carried him into the farmhouse, right as the first rays of the sun stretched over the country side and bled into the fields.

What was his deal?

For the rest of the day, Mickey seemed to be adamant about being as big of a thorn in your side as possible. Barking at you to hurry up. Scowling at you when you slipped or did something even slightly wrong.

Perfectionist asshole.

He also seemed to be avoiding looking at you.

At least directly. Every time you turned to yell at him, or glare, his back was always turned or his head was to the side, seeming adamant on not meeting your eyes.

Moody much?

The only time he did look at you was when he thought you weren’t looking. ‘Specially when you were moving heavy objects and you had to take off your jacket so you wouldn’t drown in your own sweat.

To some extent you prided your self on your work. You weren’t lazy by any means, and actually considered yourself a fairly hard worker, if the muscles of your forearms were any indication. You weren’t ripped. But it was something right?

You assumed that Mic agreed, though granted he could’ve just been comparing yours to his own massive forearms. But with the way his eyes were trailing all over you and zoning in on your barren arms and shoulders, You were almost flattered!

Almost. If the same guy who was checking you out wasn’t also being bloody ruthless with the chores. You got a few scrapes and bruises by that time noon, and you practically fell into the rickety kitchen dining chairs.

“Holy fucking shit I’ve never moved that much in my entire life..” a pain groaned poured from your lips as your aching muscles strained with your body heaving itself upwards.

Mickey let out a soft scoff at the sound, though still considerably gentler than he had been all morning, as he placed a very aesthetic sand-which In front of you.

Your stomach growled particularly loud at the sight, and with new found energy you picked up the scrumptious food with a grateful thanks and began eating.

Mickey, once again, without a lunch of his own opted to watch you openly instead. His belt buckle jeans pressed into the kitchen counter top, muscular arms propping himself up against it.

He watched quietly, and you would’ve been freaked out if you weren’t so damn tired.

“There’s still more to do. We haven’t gotten to the animals yet. And the roof on the barn needs leak repairs.”

You choked.

Hacking violently you smacked your chest before unlodging the piece of fresh bread from your throat.

Gulping water quickly you exhaled and turned to look at the cowboy in what you hoped was a glare, but was more accurately a very pathetic frown.

“I-!” You opened your mouth to argue before closing it softly with a tired sigh.

You’d complained enough today.

Mickey had been doing this kind of work for who knows how long, and he was going out of his way to accommodate your pace, though not by much, and was even making you food. It felt rude to comparing at this point.

You just hoped that if you died from exhaustion Mickey wouldn’t use your body as fertilizer.

So with a resigned groan you sat up after finishing your delicious sandwich. “..Yeah, okay.” You mumbled, getting ready to move to the trash can and toss out the crumbs and paper, but a large pale hand forced you back into your seat, without much pressure given how tired your body already was.

You gazed at Mickey curiously.

The tall cowboy looked down at you firmly, his expression odd as he scanned your bruises and sweaty face. Sighing completely inaudibly before reaching into his back pocket and placing a tube of some kind of muscle cream and a pack of wraps.

“Go upstairs and run yourself a warm bath. You stink and the water will help relax your muscles so they wont hurt as much tomorrow. You can spend the rest of the day doing whatever you need to do, but I expect you down here and out at the gate by 5 to bring in the cattle. Got it?”

You were stunned. The smile that worked its way on your face seemed to embarrass the farmer slightly as he turned away from you with folded arms and a grumpy frown.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m only letting you off because at this point you’ll slow me down more than anything. I don’t need a clumsy city kid messing up my work.”

You chose to ignore the bastards insults in favor of gently placing your arm on his lower bicep.

“Thanks Mic.”

You missed the deep inhale and weird glow of the cowboys eyes that followed you up the stairs and into your bedroom.

“…..”

It was good to see you hadn’t changed much.

#yandere #yandere cowboy #yandere vampire #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere oc #Micah/Mickey oc #part 1

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credince--writes · 9 months

Text

Deep In Those Woods 6

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

AO3

Masterlist

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N:

DID SOMEONE SAY WORLDBUILDING AND SEXUALLLLL TENSION?

I did :)

Sorry I've been gone so long my appendix fucking exploded

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756

Keegan stared, mouth opening and trying to speak but nothing coming out- his mind rushing a million miles a minute.

"Because you owe me?" You teased.

He releases a breath. "Yea, Princess. Because I owe you."

You were angry, rightfully so-

You felt you were further past this, but at the same time, you really didn't know each other at all did you?

You knew he muttered in his sleep, softly, and only when he felt warm. He never mumbled when he was cold, he'd curl in on himself

You knew his eyes reminded you of the clear, blue waters of the creeks and rivers that passed over the rocks here.

You knew that even though he'd never say anything, he liked having extra carmelized onions in his food.

Or that he still wouldn't complain, but was always hesitant to eat scrambled eggs for some reason.

"You need to sit down." You all but hissed out, shooing him out of the kitchen and back down onto the couch across the room.

"And you..." Keegan sat down, leaning back into the cushion of the couch and letting out a sigh of relief, the stabbing pain in his side subsiding as he leaned back and relaxed. Trailing off, the glanced out the window, dutifully ignoring the light red tinge of embarrassment that dusted onto his face understanding that yes, you were right about his exertion.

He needed to dial it back if he ever wanted to get better.

He'd been hurt worse before, he argued, he shouldn't be complacent in a stranger's home just because it was warm.

Just because there were rare occasions where your hand would grace across his skin, his eyes would flutter closed and he could almost forget about how horrible of a man he really was.

He was destined to be buried face down in the Earth, pointed back home in some strange, cold, and hostile land. Not being doted on, and soaking it up like a greedy sponge.

What the fuck is he doing?

He has been MIA for who knows how long- he couldn't keep track of the days in his concussed stupor, but he knows it was more than two weeks minimum of time he'd lost total.

Keegan was angry with himself for letting the time get away from him- but from the dark splotching on his skin he knew that if he had just tried to push it he would've died under the ferns and moss.

That was, if he ever would've managed to get himself out of that creek.

A horrible little part of him knew he wouldn't have.

He needed to get his radio working- he needed to get intel back to base- the fact that there was four unmarked settlements they didn't even know about was concerning. How old was the information they'd sent him out here for based off of?

What he needed was-

“Soup.” You said, almost sheepishly as you sat down next to him, readying yourself to raise the spoon to his lips. His cold blue eyes narrowed on the bowl, forcing him to sit up and reach his hands out to pull it from your grip.

Your cheeks burned, turning your head away and sucked in a deep breath trying not to immediately turn back and react, glance down at his waistband, and argue. Biting your tongue and waiting just a millisecond you gather your thoughts you turned your head back to look at him, the amusement clear in his pale blue eyes.

You quickly stood, excusing yourself and walking outside to take a breath.

The feeling of your warm hands brushing against his chest when you thought he was asleep, selfishly keeping his breathing even to lure your little hands into touching him.

No.

He had pieces of why he'd been sent, he knew the mission. He just lost bits of time to the adrenaline and blood loss as he staggered through the woods and eventually toppled into the creek.

He'd left from Santa Monica nearly two months ago, he knew that. The plane ride, the rinky dinky bush plane if it could even be considered a plane.

It had two wings in flew, he mused to himself, of course, it was a fucking plane.

The heavily wooded areas of the northern segment of the state, while not ravished by the attacks of ODIN had fallen victim to the infestation of Federation soldiers. It was a guerilla war, in the street, woods, the rivers. The cities fell first, but the remote areas were controlled by farmers withheld.

Infrastructure was destroyed, bridges were blown, and entire counties were islanded in a matter of days.

And since they held no real value in the war, they were left alone.

Until five months ago.

The intel was solid, they'd moved in from the coast suddenly, surging into the few remaining skeletons of cities and overwhelming what little military a civilian presence was left.

The question was why.

Nuclear Power.

A small, barely on-the-map city and it's nearly forgotten nuclear power plant was guarded with the minimal military presence that remained in the area. And clearly, the presence wasn't enough.

The rods in the plant could be deconstructed and turned into dirty bombs that could, and more than likely would, wreak havoc on the few remaining 'unscathed' cities of the country.

Keegan called it one of the worst oversights possible-

all they had to do was remove the fucking nuclear components/

But alas, the bridges had been blown up.

Was the justification.

He lived in the woods, deep behind the cover, and stalked, much like the wildlife rampantly taking back over the land. Lurking in the shadows and observing trying to confirm if the plant was being used to convert for weapons of mass destruction.

Or, even more plausibly, to turn the city into one of their most efficiently functioning bases on American soil.

He volunteered himself for the mission, needed some way to escape after the last absolute shit show of a mission that ended with both Hesh and Logan getting hurt. He knew he couldn't have prevented it- it's just something that happens on the job now, but it still melted into his flesh like acid.

He needed time to be alone, time to rethink the events that had happened. What better way to have plenty of time to think than to volunteer to sit in a glorified damp hole for God knows how long and simply wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It started to become clear that at least for now, the power plant was to stay to its intended use- holding the old employees at gunpoint to ensure that the plant stayed maintained.

He waited some more.

Until the crackling of his radio, quiet in his ear but so loud compared to the silence he'd become accustomed to over the last few days. New intel on a location nestled deep in the woods, five miles from his current vantage point staring down onto the plant.

Well, that's where it went to shit.

The hike wasn't the bad part, neither was the rain, or the mosquitoes, or the run-in with the bear. He could manage all of those things, but he wasn't prepared to see the base. The dingy little thing if it could even be called a base.

He could argue with himself and say he'd stayed in worse, but that was beside the point.

It was the people.

Of course, there would be the locals, they wouldn't be able to sustain the base without their (forced) help of them. He knew that, that was usually how those bases went. Either the locals would be killed on sight, or be forced into laboring for their invaders.

He just never got used to how skinny and hollow they always looked.

So when it was one of the Prisoners who saw past the camouflage and alerted the soldiers, barrels turning and pointing dangerously close to not twigs and leaves- Keegan decided he needed to move.

And he was moving, running- fleeing, for three days.

The delirium of exhaustion caused hallucinations of sounds that weren't really there- soldiers that weren't really there. Getting the drop on him in ways they shouldn't have been able to.

He'll blame it on the exhaustion.

But it seems like some of these soldiers knew the land better than a non-local soldier.

They'd started to convert.

And he ran, until the blade of his knife was dull and blood splattered on the ferns and leaves beneath him. Until his legs gave out from under him.

Until he tumbled into the sweet, cold fresh water of your creek.

Until he felt the first brush of your warm flesh against his.

Maybe he was still delirious.

#Call of Duty #Keegan P Russ x reader #Keegan Russ x Reader #Call of Duty Ghosts #Deep In Those Woods

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