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fauustic · 1 year

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afraid of what i can do

(implied afab) gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

smut. angst. comfort. as miguel grows more intimate with you, his insecurities catches up to him.

warnings: explicit smut. biting, marking, blood discussion. discussion of insecurities and the comfort that follows.

word count: 4238

A scratch of vinyl briefly interrupted the easygoing atmosphere settling upon the living room as the news station echoed softly throughout the apartment, flowing into an easy-going harmony of domestic bliss. It was nearing time to rest, you decided.

On nights like these as the pink hues of the sunset faded into a canvas of cobalt blue, a light smile dusted your features as you waited for your husband to return back home. The apartment you conjured into a humble, chaotic mess of your love became a safe space for the both of you, as the smell of desserts you'd painstakingly learn the recipes of just for Miguel to try with a puzzled curve of his brow and a displeased curl of his mouth, wafted through the kitchen and met your nose.

You missed Miguel, as you settled into your nighttime routine and slipped on a shirt of his. Sometimes you imagined him getting ready for bed with you, just like any other couple– and falling asleep with him in your hold, snuggled within your embrace like you were the one who protected him. Miguel loved being the smaller spoon no matter the circumstances, after all.

After you had brushed your teeth and even prepared his own toothbrush, you shuffled throughout your shared space to double check if you had finished all the chores to just try and make his life a tad bit easier.

Dinner has been prepared, a comfort food of his that he made sure you knew he craved when Miguel was stuck working at his headquarters: Cocido de Garbanzos; a delicious stew that had bursts of flavors with a variety of all kinds of things, vegetables and pork and chorizo and garbanzo beans and–

You chuckled with Miguel in mind, remembering his panicked sputters of what ingredients were needed and how you weren't preparing anything correctly, it was something Miguel had taught you to make with little snaps to your skill whenever you had messed up– but you knew he loved the time spent with you and the effort you made trying to learn something important to him.

The window leading into the living room was open for an easy entrance, a reminder that he uttered frantically whenever he would wake you up in the early mornings while he got dressed for work. "Remember, mi cielo. Keep that–" he pointed towards the living room before sliding his hands together in a lighthearted plea. "Open, keep it open. Ever since you forgot that one time I am haunted."

Lastly, you wrote a note next to his meal. A simple, "glad you're home safe. I miss you."

The clean, fresh scent of laundry intermingled with Miguel’s smell embedded within his shirt welcomed you within the bundle of blankets and pillows that made up your shared space. Rest came to you like bees to petals on a warm summer day, drifting you off to rest after such an eventful day.

The next thing you remember is the touch of your husband, a pained groan escaping his lips as he slipped underneath the blankets and settled in between your legs without a word. His presence brought a wave of reassurance as he wordlessly clutched onto you like if Miguel let go, he’d wake up from a dream that’s carried him away and altered his very being.

"Long day?" You cooed into his damp hair, petals of water seeping into your cheeks as Miguel's face met your chest with a huff of relief. Sleep riddled your voice as you giggled, his deep inhales grazing your skin underneath one of his shirts. Miguel's shoulders tightened under the touch of your fingers, shaking in pleasure as you kneaded the soreness that plagued his muscles.

His hold wrapped around your ribs that rivalled the touch of handling a doll, meeting at the small of your back as he trapped you underneath him delicately. Miguel's chest rumbled lowly as his scarlet eyes fluttered shut, snuggling closer to your warmth. "You have no idea, mi conejito." He chuckled tiredly before pushing himself up, meeting your eyes with a tired curl of his lips.

You frowned, brushing your index against his freshly split eyebrow. He must have patched himself up while you were sleeping, and the thought of Miguel washing off blood from his wounds and bandaging himself in the silence of his mind made your heart practically shatter in a million pieces. The wince he barely covered up only made you feel more guilty.

"My love, you should have woken me up when you got home." You tutted faintly, speaking to him with so much patience that Miguel couldn't help but melt against the kiss you planted on his forehead after your light scolding. "I'm always here to make things easier on you."

As you took his face into your hands and danced your thumbs around his cheeks, heat met your touch as if he was slightly embarrassed by the way you spoke to him. So tenderly, treating him with the affection of a fragile thing.

"Didn't want to wake you up," he smiled lazily, fangs meeting the plush skin of his bottom lip. "Looked so cute in my shirt, laying in our bed.. baby, I couldn't bring myself to ruin such a beautiful thing." Miguel's words oozed like honey as he pecked you on the lips, short and sweet. A glimpse of the dark circles underneath his tired gaze showed through the darkness when a flying car whizzed by the window of your apartment.

Sliding your grasp up to his curls, you pulled at the dark brown locks peppered with grey. An airy groan escaped his lips as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. "Are you getting enough sleep, honey? I know the city's not going to clean itself, but big tough Spider-Man can take an off day every now and then. Maybe take the advice of those silly coworkers you–"

Your lighthearted mumble, a genuine concern blanketed with a joking tone, was cut off the moment his lips clashed into yours. The abrupt kiss had taken you off guard, allowing him to swipe his tongue into your mouth with ease. Miguel's arms unraveled around your form only to allow his hands the freedom to knead into the flesh of your hips as his tongue fought against yours. He was surrounding you entirely, looming over your form as his touch explored your skin with desperation, a neediness you haven't been exposed to in weeks. The scent of praline flooded your senses as his shirt bunched up, his mouth still greedily taking everything you had to offer. He moaned into your heavy breaths, fangs sinking into your bottom lip as he caged you underneath him.

A gasp erupted from your throat as the calloused pads of his thumbs trailed up underneath his shirt you adorned, painstakingly slow. You almost broke the kiss to tell him to stop distracting you from worrying about him, but he beat you to it.

Miguel ripped away from your lips, a string of saliva following his movements as he brought his forearm to his chin, wiping away your blood and the entanglement of your spit.

"Don't need to have you cracking jokes about those guys I'm stuck with all the damn time. Malditos idiotas." He breathed deeply, his lips– smeared with blood– curving into a sneer at the thought. "Especially due to the fact all I have on my mind is you, and you're thinking about someone else?" His palms cupped your breasts, one hand pinching your nipple sharply as his jealousy was made present. "That's not very nice, cariño." His other hand kneaded into the flesh of your chest, claws threatening the softness of your skin. Miguel was slowly losing his composure.

"Miguel–" you choked out as he straddled your leg, knee planted against your thigh as the other pushed lightly against the newfound need pooling onto the sheets, wetting his skin. His breath hitched as he dove back down, meeting the crook of your neck with urgency. A rip sounded throughout the intensity, startling you as the cold air met your skin.

"I need you," he murmured into your shoulder, marking your skin with hickies like his life depended on it. Miguel's lips danced around your flesh, not missing a single inch of skin as his fangs desperately sought purchase into your shoulder. "can I bite you, baby? Please, please let me bite you," He chanted as his words grew muddled with his mouth reconnecting with your shoulder, warm huffs meeting chilled goosebumps. You could feel his quivering lips, drool dribbling down and framing the curve of your breast.

You moaned, pushing his head impossibly closer to you in a lust-ridden frenzy. "Yes, god yes. Anything you want." You bared your neck, clawing at his messily styled curls that always awarded you with a throaty growl of his. Without another second to spare, hot pain followed with an explosion of pleasure racked through your entire being– rendering your mind useless as all you could think about was: Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.

Legs shaking, the tension you didn't even realize churning within your core snapped as his tongue swiped at the blood threatening to spill from where he pierced. "Miguel, oh my god– I'm, I'm coming–"

A low rumble of something akin to a purr accompanied your hazy rambles, your fingers mindlessly tangled within his curls and pulling hard. His length, confined to the fabric of his boxers and hovering over your thigh, grew impossibly harder as your squirms rubbed harshly against his cock. Miguel whimpered, detaching himself from your shoulder with a long kiss to the wound, just to nibble on your perked nipples as he grinded into your thigh like he's just as high as you from sinking his fangs into your flesh.

"Missed you, mi alma." His lips met yours in a much softer kiss as your body felt worn and blissful all at once. Tongue lazily fighting with yours', the flavor of his spit and your blood intertwined. Miguel lapped thoroughly into your mouth as he had created the loveliest wine. "Been needing this for weeks. Te amo mucho, love you so much it hurts." Miguel breathed into your drooling lips as his claws delicately met your thigh, your skin slick with his precum as he adjusted his position in your legs.

"My everything," He hissed through gritted teeth, tainted with your blood and spit dribbling down his chin. Miguel kicked off his boxers with endearingly cute frustration, brow curling up in irritation as he finally unclothed his achingly desperate erection. Slapping against his stomach, Miguel almost cried out in relief as a bead of sweat dripped from the stress lines on his forehead. "I need you, need you need you– please–" he whined as you heaved for breath, finally coming back to your senses. Miguel melted like putty into your hands as you finally returned your touch to his burning flesh, wiping away the needy tears littering his cheeks.

The stark comparison between the Miguel you found yourself holding hands with gingerly when in public, his expression as stoic as ever while he held onto your grasp like an anchor in crowds of people and the Miguel behind closed doors, desperately taking and grabbing any form of affection he's offered with an obvious craving for attention– the realization would had made you burst out in a puppy-love ridden giggle had he not pull you into another kiss.

"You can have me, baby." You sighed heavily, bringing your shaky hands to your hips in an attempt to remove the short sleepwear you wore to bed– but Miguel had different plans.

You could make out the light shake of his head in the darkness, the dim luminescence you kept on for his arrival peeking through the crack of the door to the bedroom. The consent you gave him, something he asked for every time the two of you fell into the heat of intimacy, altered the dynamic between the both of you the moment the words "yes, take anything you need, all for you" were uttered.

Miguel brought his index to your stomach, tracing shapes into the softness of your skin like a flurry of fluttering kisses as his elbow met the soft sheets, grazing the flesh of your rib. He held himself up, surveying your expression with a certain coolness where you would have never assumed he was crying for any form of your touch moments ago. Every hitch of your breath would encourage him to brush the same pattern, a slight smirk accompanying his lips when you'd pant out his name like a worshipping plea.

"Please, Miguel," you grabbed his wrist, encouraging him to soothe the aching bundle of nerves that uncomfortably stuttered against the shorts in every thrust against the air. "Not fair, baby– ah, please– would do anything to have you inside me–" tears welled up, clouding your gaze as you struggled to hold his amused stare. You couldn't help the pout that painted your features as he leaned forward to take your swollen lips between your teeth, furthering you into a puddle only for him.

"Just love hearing you beg," he purred, brushing his fingers further down until it finally reached the fabric of your drenched sleepwear, barely grazing your folds before cupping your entrance entirely. You leaned your head back in ecstasy, choking up as the embrace of your pillow welcomed you lovingly. "I can get drunk on it." His knuckles found its way to your bare clit, teasingly swiping the puffy flesh before you bucked into his hand, an airy chuckle clashing against your incoherence and breathy pants.

To him, it was the best possible harmony his ears could ever be blessed with as his middle finger finally slipped into your entrance with ease. Your walls clenched around his digit with hunger, bucking your hips into his palm where he matched your pace with fascination and praise. Your tears met the crook of his neck when you pulled him into a tight hug, as Miguel somehow managed two more fingers– your teeth meeting the flesh of his shoulder while he stretched you open and plunged into your heat with an animalistic huff.

Miguel heaved for air, trying to calm his nerves before he lost control– a single breath out of line would have him accidentally clawing down the trust you granted him. The power in his hands has him shivering, muddling your wrecked cries as he rocked against the spot he knew that had you crumbling in his hold. Your climax brought him out of his daze sparked from the humming reminder he locks away in the shadows of his thoughts, how you could break so easily in the clutches of his jaw.

Your fucked-out smile caught his eye and drew himself out of the dread plaguing his mind as his instincts craved to sink his teeth into your flesh once more, a wobble of his lips instantaneously had sobered you up in a fumble of limbs and soft groan of pain from digits still buried inside you.

"What's, what's wrong honey?" You whispered into the air, blanketed with the smell of sex and sweat. You guided his wrist, sliding his fingers out from the warmth of your core, an exhausted yet concerned frown etching your features. Your flesh ached with the familiar pain from his marks as you leaned forward, caressing his jaw as you lured him out from whatever insecurity consuming him. "I'm here, what's the matter? Did we do something that you didn't like?" Your words came out faintly, testing the waters when Miguel's hard downcast gaze stayed fixated on something between the both of you that weren't there.

You guided his hand, slick with your cum, to the curve of your waist as you took the other in an intimate entanglement of fingers. You kissed his knuckles tenderly, whispering sweet nothings as he collapsed into your chest, your chin meeting his hair as you rested your eyes.

Miguel was prone to having moments of getting stuck in his own head, something you grew accustomed to as time went on between your relationship. You accepted it with open arms, just as you acknowledged and eased his worries when he finally came forward about being the masked hero that consumes the media. Just how you acknowledged the aspects of him that deemed him irreparably monstrous, the fangs tainting his smile and the retractable claws threatening to dig into anything the moment he loses composure. You had to admit you were startled that it would happen so abruptly in the heat of a moment, but you understand.

You knew his enhanced senses made him easier to overwhelm, so when the thought raced through your head guilt infested inside your brain as you tucked your arms underneath his arms and brought him into a tight hug, something you knew he loved because it helped him ground himself. Miguel's breathing swallowed, nuzzling into the hickies on your breasts that he had etched minutes ago. "I'm.. afraid." He confessed as you swept back his hair in the way you knew he loved.

Humming in acknowledgment, you brought the blanket pooling around your entangled legs over the both of you. Miguel’s brows furrowed and his lips curled into a pout, smeared with the intertwined concoction of your blood and sweat. He was never one to share his feelings, so you took the time between his silence to braid the long curls– something he grew to love from his brief, unspoken paternal experiences. Miguel had mentioned it once in the quietness of your embrace after he had a much more severe shutdown, and you’ve held the knowledge very dear to your heart

“Afraid of what I could do to you,” He heaved, tears painting your blemishes like watercolor overlaying on canvas. The glint of wetness met the dim luminescence peeking into your bedroom, enriching the growingly red marks littering your skin like a work of art. “For a moment there, I could imagine myself– sinking into your flesh and never letting you leave.” His gaze met yours as he resituated himself, “and I want to. I feel like I need to, and one day if I just let go–” Miguel ripped his intense gaze just to be guided back to your own with your hand meeting his jaw. You said nothing but smiled, as he greedily took the opportunity to nuzzle into the palm of your hand. "I mean it when I tell you that you're my everything, the air I breathe–" the pads of your thumbs met the bags underneath his eyes, swiping away fresh wetness. Miguel hasn't cried in front of you in a long time, the occasion rare and unexpected. But you welcomed it easily, giving him the attention he needed and wanted. "I can't lose you too, mi lucero del alba. I'd lose myself."

You tutted softly for the second time that night, resting your forehead against his as he desperately choked down any air he could afford. His hold on you tightened almost suffocatingly, his bare body cuddling into yours's without a second thought. Forearms tucked around your waist, your hands wandered soothingly over his trembling form.

"You should have talked to me about this before pouncing on me like a rabid animal." Your words rang throughout the air, a silence looming over the both of you before he heartily chuckled– a heart-wrenching, choked huff that had you giggling in relief.

"I couldn't help myself, te ves deslumbrante. You're too gorgeous for this world, and I have you all to myself. Unbelievable." Miguel brought his lips to yours, trapping you underneath him with his forearms all over again. "I thought fucking my problems away would work," it was meant to come out as a joke, a small quip he allowed himself to murmur into the air– but you knew better. Miguel definitely thought it would work, as you drowned each other with kisses.

"Maybe let me lead next time," you whispered into his ear, trailing your fingertips down his abdomen. Miguel hissed, bucking into the soft plush mattress. He brokenly groaned into your neck, his unsheathed claws digging into the velvet flesh of your chest.

Miguel cried out, baring his teeth as he breathed in deeply– a subtle attempt in calming himself. "I don't want to hurt you, cariño." His doubts of himself came out in a huff, if you hadn't been paying attention to every move he made you would have easily missed his worries.

You sighed. Heart clenching and threatening to burst within the confinement of your rib cage, you guided his lips to yours for the millionth time that night. The entanglement of lips was slow as Miguel's breath hitched, your tongue slipping into his mouth. Metal flooded your senses, your basic human instincts buzzing alarmingly in a fit to tell you "run, go away, dangerous," but you never budged.

Accepting Miguel and everything that came with, you held onto his face like he was the only man in the world, treating him with a certain gentleness he's never been exposed to before you. His entire being craved your acceptance that rivalled the need for water and food, as if he didn't have you Miguel would turn into a shell of what he was just like before.

The both of you kissed sensually, taking the brief moments to breathe just to inhale one another's air like you were each other's life-source. Your smile met his unsure wobble of his lips, the salty wetness of his tears mixing with your lips. "I can handle it." You murmured as his cheek desperately pushed against his palm like a cat, a low rumble accompanying his small sobs.

"I can handle you," you told him as if it was fact, like your words were law and there was nothing else to worry about.

"You'll fail." He responded weakly, the trauma he kept locked away resurfaced with each kiss. Miguel looked as broken as you first saw him, an image of the first time you saw him cry after months of dealing with his snippy stoicism flashing within your mind.

"No, no. Not when it comes to you. I'll flip this entire city over for you."

A fragile smile, one that replicated the curve of glass, peeked through his blood-ridden lips. "That's my job, mi conejito."

You flicked him on his forehead, a laugh filling the careful atmosphere. "Well, you better be careful. I heard there was an opening." A growl interrupted your laughs, just for you to giggle tenfold as Miguel began tickling the blemishes littering your form with delicate claws. "Can't happen, baby. Don't want you getting hurt."

The laughter died down as Miguel's tickling came to a stop, his bare physique settling over you like a blanket while he held himself up just a fraction. His damp curls, slick with his sweat, tickled your neck as he used your chest like a pillow. Miguel's breathing finally grew softer and more serene, a soft snore filling the bedroom as you laid there. "My love," you began and Miguel hummed mindlessly. "We need to shower, I can't sleep with my cum on my hip as well as everything else seeping into the–"

"Okay, okay– cállate. There's no need to be gross."

"No need to be a big baby, you can handle my honesty." He huffed fallen strands of his curls from his forehead in faux annoyance at your counter. "I'll clean you up," you offered with a light smile, a warm, fuzzy feeling blossoming in your chest as he scooped you up in his arms. "Let's take a bath together."

"Don't start that again, I told you I'm no child–"

Your unstable legs met the plush velvet of the bath mat, "I want to lay in your lap as I wash your hair."

"...'

You knew you won when he settled you on top of him in the tub, beginning to fill the little area with warm water– something he preferred and you simply just adapted to it. As you lathered his hair, his eyes fluttered to a close and a deep purr rumbled from his throat. Miguel's lines indented within his features relaxed as you massaged his scalp, his hands finding purchase on your ass.

Yet the heat of the night was over, the touches the two of you shared were nothing more than sweet. Miguel simply enjoyed the feel of his body against yours as his chin met your shoulder, your fingers meeting the nape of his neck while his entire being surrounded you.

"I'm proud of you." Was all you said, nestling yourself against his skin while you washed away the sweat and blood and cum between the both of you.

Miguel grew rigid before sliding his grasp to your waist, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. No words could be mustered, but by the way his muscles contracted and tightened, he appreciated the small praise as a fraction of a sob escaped his lips.

As the two of you settled into the comfort of the bathroom, allowing the warm water run just how he enjoyed it with the smell of bubblegum soap and praline flooding the apartment, Miguel held onto your form like you were threatening to disappear. And you let him, as you kissed his marred skin with unfiltered love.

#im addicted to turning everything into a form of angst #i thought it was going to be fluffy but i lied #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara comfort #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse x reader

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scatorcciogf · 2 months

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hear me out.. angsts/fluff fic with nat. R comforts her after her dad di3s!!? She tries to push r away but ultimately gives in.

¬ warnings: cursing, depression i guess? mentions of death/suicide and past abuse, established relationship between reader and nat + gn!reader

you've only been with nat for a few months now, but you already feel like you know her to her core. not because she talks much about herself — god knows how difficult it is to get her to open up — but because you've gotten good at reading between the lines when it comes to her.

she oversleeps when she's feeling down. she bites at her lip when she's bored; she bites her nails when she's anxious. she provokes and picks fights at school when something happens at home. she plays more aggressively at practice when she's feeling insecure. she tries to get into your pants when she's frustrated.

you don't know what the hell it means that she hasn't been to school in three days and won't pick up your calls.

you assume she's just sick the first day — but you still find it weird, considering she was fine when you saw her yesterday. you get very concerned on the second day, especially when nobody picks up the phone five times in a row. you're worried sick the third day, and you decide to pay her a visit.

as you walk to your car, it does strike you as a possibility that she is just sick, and that you're being dramatic, but you can't risk it. if something happened to her—

"hey, uh..." you hear lottie's voice as she stops you in the parking lot, her hand on your shoulder. "i heard about natalie's dad today. is she... how is she?"

her dad? "what are you talking about?"

her expression shifts from one of concern to one of realization. "you don't know?"

"nat!" you shout, banging on the front door of her trailer. "nat, come on! open up!"

you've been trying to get her to let you in for a few minutes now, getting more desperate as time passes. your hand started hurting sometime between the third and fourth time you knocked, but the pain seems insignificant compared to the possibility that you'll finally get to talk to her.

"nat! baby, please. please, i need to see you. i need to make sure you're okay. please."

there's a sound on the other side; someone walking to the door.

"nat?" your voice is softer, gentler.

she doesn't respond right away, and you assume she won't at all. you're about to call out for her again, when you hear her unlocking the door. when she finally opens it, you're faced with a starved body and the most tired eyes you've ever seen.

"oh, honey."

she's still silent when you pull her in for a tight hug. she remains still for a moment too, until she weakly hugs you back, her face buried in your shoulder. you don't let go until she moves away first, minutes later, leading you to her room.

you wouldn't say she's a very neat person in general, but the place is messier than you've ever seen it be. there's a dozen cigarette bums on the floor next to her bed — since when does she smoke inside? — and the rest of her room is covered in various junk, ranging from actual trash to stuff like her clothes. you swear some of the shirts on her bed are her dad's, too.

she doesn't have to tell you anything for you to understand the breakdown she's been having for the past three days.

both of you sit on the bed. your eyes are fixed on nat; nat's eyes are fixed on the floor. you gently take her hand into yours, stroking it with your thumb. you wait until she speaks up first.

"what have you heard?"

"it doesn't matter. i want you to tell me what happened."

"are they saying i shot him?"

you hesitate, unsure how to respond because yeah, that's what lottie implied. but lottie heard it from mari, who heard it from her parents, and you don't consider that a very reliable source of information.

"because i almost did. not that it matters that i didn't, anyway. i'm still the reason he's dead."

her voice breaks a little when she says that, and your heart does too.

"nat, look at me." you say, bringing one hand to her cheek so you can turn her face towards you. "it's not your fault."

she laughs humorlessly. "how the fuck would you know, anyway? you don't even know what happened."

"it's not your fault." you repeat firmly.

she clenches her jaw, but the look in her eyes is more sad than frustrated. it takes her a while to start talking again. it's in a much quieter tone.

"he was getting really pissed off about something so fucking stupid." she begins. "he, uh, hit her again. like, nearly drew blood."

her breath hitches. you wait for her to continue.

"i just couldn't bear it anymore, you know? it was like something had snapped in me, and i... i went to get the gun. pointed it at his head." her voice is becoming shaky now. "but the fucking safety was on. and he took it from me, and— and he accidentally fired it off."

you barely blink, or breathe. you just stare at her, your own eyes welling up as you watch tears rolling down her cheeks. you want nothing more than to hold her in your arms forever, making sure nothing bad ever happens to her again.

"nat..."

she continues. "and it's not like he didn't deserve it, you know? he's the worst person i've ever met. and the most stupid one too, i guess, because how do you accidentally blow half your head off? but i still feel so guilty and so... i don't know."

you shake your head. "you can't feel guilty about this, baby, please. i know it's hard but you need to listen to me when i tell you it's not your fault, okay? please."

she looks away again, and you know it's going to be difficult to actually get through to her, but you're not giving up so easily. you drop your hand back to hers, grabbing it a bit more tightly this time.

"why don't you stay with me for a while? it can't be healthy for you to dwell here."

"my mom—"

"should take care of herself." you interrupt her. "i want to be here for you right now and i can't think of a better way than getting you out of here."

"being somewhere else won't make it easier for me to talk about it."

"and you don't have to. we can just... i don't know, cuddle and finally have that movie night date we've been talking about. i'll even cook dinner for you."

she snorts. "yeah, no. you'd burn the kitchen down."

you roll your eyes fondly, lightly smacking her arm. "is that a yes for the other things, at least?"

"yes."

you smile and pull her in for a kiss. it's gentle, more intimate than any other moments you've shared throughout your relationship so far. she pulls away after a few moments, leaning into you as you wrap your arms around her.

"come on then," she murmurs into your shirt, "let's pack my things so you can take me home."

#sorry this didn't turn out longer! i hope it's similar to what u had in mind #it's also definitely more angsty than fluffy...#but fuck it we ball #🩹 — angst #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets

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connieisthesun · 8 months

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Wildest Dreams (Conrad fisher x y/n)

You see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Sweaty bodies, the dizzying aroma of alcohol and a pounding remix of trending tiktok audios. It was nothing more or less than an infamous college party.

As a studious individual, I never usually partake in such fickle activities until my best friend Angelina begged me to go the night before as pay back from eating her last packet of instant noodles, what can I say, it was 2am and the hunger hit different!

Aside that as she was partying it up with some ran-do named Allen, Alex? - I didn't catch his name. I was standing in a corner to avoid the excessive grinding of drunken kids, unbeknownst to me a pair of sapphirical diamonds, piercing deeper than a lustful cesspool was the gleaming and most respectful eyes of you guessed it Conrad Fisher. The most sought out guy in college.

Lost in thought, I was quite rudely bumped into a deeply intertwined couple was making their way upstairs to conduct more "business." My legs entangled before me, I tripped and fell into the arms of the infamous fuckboy Jason.

"You don't have to hurt yourself to get my attention"

I quietly revolt in my mouth, who does this guy think he is?'

"Thank you, I was just leaving." I mumble.

"Leaving y/n darling, already? The party just started, why don't you be a good girl and lead the way upstairs." He whispers with fake innocence.

I could not believe he thought I would give my virginity to him, a guy who had the ego of the president but the looks of a furless moleskin rat!

Disgusted, I visibly grimace and attempt to break free of his grasp, before I could do so his hands began sliding its way up my thigh and his hand around my waist tightening ever so slightly. I am frightened, is this really happening?

"Jason!" called a distant figure who's silhouette was only visible to me.

Jason's breathing quickens with his distraughtful presence still looming over me, an air of vindicative energy fills the room.

"Leave her alone, she obviously doesn't want to fuck you or be seen 10 feet within you so leave her the fuck alone before I punch you shitless."

Gob-smacked by this behaviour, you rustle out of Jason's arm's to be met by the warm embrace of the one and only Conrad. Your heart pangs a little as he grips you assuredly.

"Look at me, are you ok? He exclaims.

You begin to speak before-

"I swear to God, just wait until I get my hands on him, hurting a sweet pretty thing like you."

"Conrad! I'm fine - thank you."

"Sorry for overreacting, do you want me to walk you to your apartment for safety y/n" He looks intimately in your eyes as he hopefully awaits a response.

"Yes sure, please. I don't want to have another encounter at a party again!"

"Tell me about it, all guys want these days is sex." You feel relieved that Conrad isn't a misogynistic brat though that's just the bare minmum. You engage in a meaningful conversation on the way home, talking about various topics before your arrive at your front door step.

"Thanks Conrad, it really means a lot to me that you care."

"No problem, I'm here if you need me y/n."

"Wait, how do you know my name, we've never formally met before."

"Lets just say a girl like you no matter the name is unforgettable." He offers a quick smile before muttering goodnight and leaving. As if in a delirious state you clutch your chest and make your way to your bed only to dream about the night you just had and the wildest possibilities of you and Conrad.

Thanks so much for reading! This is my first fic so go easy on me lol but honestly I had to feed you girlies as season 2 has come to a close and conrad fics are slowly disappearing. Let me know if you want a part 2, I'll make sure the parts are more longer and get into the backstory of both y/n and Conrad but for now see you later!

P.S -> I'll add you to my taglist for future content if you comment your name :)

#conrad #conrad fisher #tsitp #conrad fisher x y/n #fluffy conrad #angst conrad #conrad fisher hot #the summer i turned pretty #anti belly #y/n #conrad fisher smut

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beanghostprincess · 4 months

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Usopp finds out what happened on wci and feels incredibly hurt and heart broken by it but also wants to comfort him after finding out about his family treatment twords him.

He feels so conflicted because he knows why he did what he did. Marry pudding protecting them from big mom but at the same time what about him? Did he even think about him when proposing to pudding? was he just content with leaving him without an explanation? He was just going to have to find out in the newspapers 'vensmokes and big mom alliance. Prince marries the daughter big mom'

He never confronted him about it. He did it to keep him and the rest of the crew safe, that's a good enough reason. His personal feelings went unchecked, repressed and shoved down like usual as he goes back into their normal routine as a couple. tho he thinks about it a lot especially in bed whether sanji is falling asleep first or he is getting up first it's even worse when they're intimate. He just stares wondering what would have happened if he did marry another and left him.

I am actually currently writing a fic in which they talk about WCI, but it's more Sanji-focused and I personally love Usopp's POV in this situation. Leaving my fic aside, another idea I've thought about thanks to your ask is like,, Sanji talks to Usopp right after Wano. Not that they have time to do so when they get there after WCI, and Sanji isn't really in the best place mentally. So they talk once Wano is saved, etc etc etc. And,, Usopp takes it well because, how else is he going to take it? It's not really Sanji's fault and he was the one suffering the most. Usopp has this uncontrollable rage toward the Vinsmokes now too. He hates Big Mom even more now. He even feels guilty now for telling Sanji to wear the Raid suit and complimenting it when it was hurting him so much. Sanji is literally in pieces right now. He needs comfort after what he's been through, not to feel more guilty. So Usopp doesn't mention the fact that he's a bit, tiny angry at Sanji for acting on his own. It's not like he has any right to be offended. He didn't even go to WCI to save him because he was scared to see what he might find there and Nami told him that being so overwhelmed with emotions wouldn't help either. But he didn't go save him, and that kills him with guilt. So he doesn't mention how jealous he is of this random girl. He doesn't mention how unfair it is that Sanji decided to marry somebody else without even taking him into consideration. He doesn't mention how scared he is of losing Sanji again, because he's willing to sacrifice himself at any given moment, and that means he never thinks about how much that would kill Usopp. Sanji's stupid and Usopp knows this because the cook doesn't see how much he means to him, so he will go and pull shit like this. And he can't have him doing that again, but if he starts talking about this instead of only comforting it, he's scared he might say something stupid like "Did you ever think about me when you were with her?" because if Sanji says no, Usopp literally dies. And also, he finds it selfish because Sanji has already gone through hell and back for them. He doesn't need another burden to carry.

But Sanji notices, of course. Sanji notices the changes in Usopp once he tells him about WCI and what happened in Wano. And it's,,, It's not bad, per se, it's actually really sweet. Instead of pushing him away, Usopp is even tenderer with him. His caresses are longer. His kisses linger more time in his body. His hands are more careful with Sanji. Usopp stays up to watch him fall asleep while he holds him close. And- And it should be okay, right? It's comforting and nice and Usopp has never been more of a gentleman with him. And Sanji needs this now. Somebody who loves him. But Sanji notices it in the way Usopp looks at him, not in the way he holds him, that something is wrong. That his eyes speak words his body won't say. So he confronts Usopp about it one day. Careful not to overstep. Trying not to hurt him more than he already has. He asks what's wrong, and Usopp tries to play it off like it's nothing. Because "it's nothing, really, Sanji. Don't worry!" but Sanji does worry. And after some back and forth, he manages to make him talk.

I'm gonna skip all the previous conversation because I think you already know how it goes. Usopp starts slow and sweet and says that it's okay. That he understands why Sanji did what he did, but it was unfair for him to get married without telling him. Even if he was doing it to save them. That he didn't think about his feelings. Sanji tries to fix it, but he only gets defensive and keeps saying that it was the right thing to do. Usopp, on the other hand, is starting to get mad too because:

Usopp: The right thing for who?! For me?! Don't you dare say you did it for me because- Sanji: Yes, I did. I did it for you! For all of you! I couldn't have the Vinsmok- Usopp: I think we've been through enough for you to stop trusting us so quickly, Sanji. Sanji: What do you mean? Usopp: I mean I- I mean you think so little of yourself you're willing to give your life away without thinking about me! I mean- Us! Us. The crew. Fuck. You know, you could've trusted us. We could've- Sanji: We?! You weren't even there! Usopp: Oh, sorry for not wanting to see my boyfriend get married to some random, rich, spoiled brat! Sanji: Don't talk about Pudding like that. Usopp: So she's one of your specialest girls now. I see. Sanji: What the fuck are you talking about? She's just- She's just not like that. Usopp: Well, you were willing to marry her pretty fucking quick. That's what I know. Sanji: I was protecting you- Usopp: Or giving up. You were giving up. And it just- It just makes me wonder if you ever,, Sanji: What? Usopp: If you ever thought about me while you were there with her? It's stupid. I- Look, jealousy isn't my thing. This doesn't sit right with me either. I'm- God, I'm sorry, okay? I get that you did this because- Sanji: Are you dumb? Usopp: What?! Sanji: Why am I asking? Of course you are. Because if you weren't so damn stupid you'd know I was thinking about you the whole fucking time. Do you really think I wanted to get married to somebody else, pretty girl or not, I- She wasn't you. I didn't- I don't love her. I didn't want to marry her. Usopp: But you were going to do it- Sanji: Okay! Whatever! Yes! I was going to do it and I felt like shit every fucking second because she wasn't you! Do you really think I want to get married to somebody that isn't you, moron? Usopp: Wait, what? Sanji: I- Usopp: You want to marry me?? Sanji: ... No. Usopp: Say it again. Sanji: Usopp, please-

Yadda yadda yadda, I think you know what happens after this. I think they should and would get married right away. Well, not right away because Sanji needs his cute little wedding with the Strawhats but,, Yeah. They're engaged. And they're even more annoying than when they were just boyfriends.

#lmao i got dramatic hehe #this is me when i have a deep conversation with my fiancé and then i start writing on tumblr #i should stop projecting but it's the only way i have to write properly okay #ALSO I'M ALWAYS TURNING ANGST INTO HAPPY ENDINGS AEFKBEKJFBSDKF I CAN'T LET ANONS HAVE FUN WITH ANGST #i always make it fluffy #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso #whole cake island

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mayxo-hxh · 27 days

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Hisoka the man that would get his limbs decapitated with a straight face but would fall to his knees when the menstrual cramps hit him.

Illumi sees him lose a leg and laugh about it but the moment a single cramp hits he finds him on the floor in the dead family guy meme pose. Hiso on his period is so grumpy about life Illu gotta take care of him and give him a lot of love.........

#just currently writing this fic abt how hisoka dealt with his first period around illumi after they got married. and im thinking thoughts.#it was literally supposed to be a funny fluffy hurt comfort angst maybe even with smut and suddenly it turned angsty :(#help #changing one detail about the fic changed the entire vibe man.#hisoka is just not used to being loved.... illumi go give ur man a kiss #hisoillu #hisoka x illumi #hxh #hunter x hunter #hisoka #hisoka morow #illumi #illumi zoldyck #my post #my hcs #trans hisoka

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puretalents · 2 months

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my muses wanna simp ... like for a simpy starters lmaooo

#open rp #indie rp #like just someone #they're super into it can be fluffy or turn angst idk

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averlym · 1 year

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I need the fluffiest Aramour you can provide (given you want to of course), I am currently addicted to mutual pining and angst I need this in my life

tried to combine all three and oops fluffy angst? mutual idiots (affectionate) resolving their mutual pining

#this may not be the fluffiest of things but. yeah i got nothing #drew this in a fit of 'I don't want to do physics i'll take a break and draw smth' and then #*pats aramour* this baby can fit so much unresolved soft angst inside!#i am sorry jane for bullying you this day? if it's any consolation she likes you back!#akshdhdjsj thank you for the ask i hope you like it #i was gonna draw soft fluff!!! idk idk idk #last night at 4am nonsense was going on irl texting and that's maybe influenced this oops ue???#i guess basically. i did want to fluffy aramour and i'm not sure how we took a turn here trying to follow all the instructions at once #ehe! haha #six the musical #six the musical fanart #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #aramour

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1mnobodywhoareyou · 5 months

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Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

on ao3, rated G, Julie and the Phantoms

The boys are hanging behind after their school band practice. They had just been given the song list and sheet music for the upcoming Christmas concert and Sunset Curve had even been given permission to do a song of their own. They were excitedly discussing which song they could add to the line up. It was *technically* the elementary school’s concert but the high school band always performed and Sunset Curve took every opportunity they were given to play. Reggie is excited to be able to play both his bass and saxophone and the other three stick with their preferred instruments.

They’re interrupted by their band teacher doubling back into the room and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees them. “Oh good, you’re still here! Luke and Bobby? Would you be open to accompanying the kids for the concert?”

Luke and Bobby look at one another and then back to their teacher, pointing to themselves. “Us?”

Their teacher nods, “yeah, normally I’d play piano for them but we were talking and it might be nice to change things up with guitar this year. And feature our students some more.”

Luke beams at that and Bobby shrugs slightly before speaking for both of them. He knows that Luke isn’t going to turn down the opportunity to play for a crowd, accompanied by kindergarteners or otherwise. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“It won’t be too much for you two? The school band, yours, and these songs?”

Luke shakes his head vigorously and claps Bobby on the back, “nope! We can handle it!”

“Alright then, thanks boys! I’ll get you everything tomorrow. Get me your song choice by then too, please.”

“You got it, sir!” Luke offers a salute and their teacher shakes his head, amused.

“Keep this room how you found it please,” he walks out of the room, leaving the boys as they’d been before being interrupted.

Luke pumps his fist, “YES!”

An amused grin takes over Alex’s face, “it’s the elementary school.”

“So? It’s an opportunity to play! And it’s not a book club!” The boys had only formally been a band for less than a year and they’d just finally found their footing and were playing every opportunity they could.

“Hey, I love playing book club!” Reggie exclaims and Luke laughs, pinching Reggie’s cheeks the same way that the older ladies had a tendency to do.

“You just like charming the grandmas.”

Reggie bats Luke’s hands away, rubbing his face. “What of it? They love me! And send us home with tasty treats every week.” Reggie’s gaze starts to gloss over as if he’s lost in thought.

Bobby wraps his arm around Reggie’s shoulders with a laugh of his own, jostling Reggie out of his treat-related daze. “Let’s feed the insatiable monster before we lose him to daydreaming. Again.”

“I resemble that remark,” Reggie murmurs while Luke and Alex laugh and they grab their things on their way out of the room. Alex doubles back to turn off the light, wanting to ensure that they’ll be allowed to continue using the space until they can figure out another rehearsal (and instrument storage) option. He takes his place between Bobby and Luke, wrapping his arms around their shoulders so that the four of them take up most of the hallway as they walk toward the doors.

—

They decide to head to the Patterson’s today and are just finishing up their snack, making their individual cases for the song they want to cover, when Emily gets home.

“Afternoon boys, how was school?”

Luke answers her around a mouthful of food, “good, Ma! We get to play for the Christmas concert this year.”

“Luke, how many times do I have to ask you not to talk with food in your mouth?”

He swallows, “sorry, Ma.”

“What song are you doing this year?” All four of them have been in the school band since fifth grade and the Pattersons had managed to make every performance. And all of the years prior, with Luke’s excited performances alongside his classmates. He lived to make the audience laugh and succeeded every time. His teachers stopped bothering to try reining him in very early on. Mitch and Emily stopped feeling the embarrassment of having a kid who demanded the spotlight by the time he reached third grade. This was the first year he got to do anything on his own though.

“The band is playing a really cool medley mashup! And, Ma! WE get to play!” he gestures toward his friends and she raises an eyebrow. “Like as Sunset Curve,” he clarifies excitedly.

“Luke’s very excited,” Alex explains drily, as if Luke’s excitement wasn’t apparent to all of them.

“I see,” she replies cooly and Luke’s face falls slightly.

His friends clock it immediately and Bobby speaks up next, “they asked Luke and I to accompany the kids too.”

“That’s very nice for you boys,” Emily says. “It’s a lot of songs to learn.”

“We can handle it, Ma. It’s not like we haven’t been singing them since we could talk or anything.”

“You’re right,” she concedes and makes her way through to the kitchen. “Make sure you boys clean up please. Are any of you staying for dinner tonight?”

Reggie confirms his attendance while Alex and Bobby bow out, claiming they need to be with their own families for the evening.

“What if we wrote our own?” Luke suggests after everything for dinner gets sorted.

“Luke, no. We don’t have time for that!” Alex tells him. Luke’s face falls into a pout and Alex sighs, “what if you write one for next year and we can ask to perform it then?”

Luke’s face brightens slightly before falling back into a frown as he gets lost in thought.

“What if we just did Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree? Twist it to make it our sound but it’s still classic,” Reggie suggests.

Bobby puts his fingers to his chin in thought before digging out the program they’d been given at school. “It’s not on the list,” he confirms.

Luke pulls out his notebook and starts writing out the adjustments he can hear playing in his mind. The others watch him for a moment before looking at one another in amusement. They know they’ve lost him to the songwriting void.

Luke jumps up suddenly, running to the family room and digging through his family’s record and tape collection. He comes up empty and yells toward the kitchen. “Ma! Where do we keep our Christmas records?”

Emily comes around the corner, drying her hands. “They’re in the Christmas bins. I haven’t brought them out yet. What do you need?”

“I want to make sure I have this song right.”

“Does it need to be right this second?”

“Mooooom, the music is flowing! Don’t harsh my vibe!”

Emily puts her hands up in mock defense, “no harshing of vibes here. I’ll get your Dad to pull things out this weekend.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Bobby decides to take that moment to interject, “Luke, one of the teachers will probably have everything we need. We can ask tomorrow.”

Luke sighs but concedes. There’s only so far that his memory can take him with this.

—

Bobby was right and they are able to get the sheet music from their music teacher the next day. They lose Luke to his arrangement process for their entire lunch break but he comes out of it triumphant and ready to practice with the boys. They make slight adjustments together at the end of the day and wind up with something they’re all happy with.

They spend the next several weeks fine tuning things and practicing and before too long the night of the concert arrives. Luke is excitedly bouncing in place and keeps looking out in the audience for his parents. None of the rest of the boys’ parents come to anything any more and look forward to Mitch and Emily’s support when it’s offered to them.

Reggie bounds backstage and up to Luke. “They’re here!”

It would take intimate knowledge of Luke to notice the shift in his energy at the news but all three of his bandmates clock it.

Luke accompanies the first three grades before joining the high school band for their performance and Bobby takes over the final three. There is a stark difference in the boys’ energy and how they play. Luke knows better than to steal the spotlight from the kids but he’s still putting on the performance he’s known for. Bobby keeps his head down and simply provides the backing track for the kids. Which works out well, considering the ages that they’re both playing with.

They take a break to let the elementary choir sing unaccompanied and then get set up for their own performance.

Sunset Curve nails their version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree with Reggie closing out the song with what is quickly becoming his signature, “we’re Sunset Curve. Tell your friends!”

The crowd laughs as they applaud and the boys beam as they soak it in before being nudged back to reality by the MC. They quickly find their places with the school band and get settled for the last song of the night.

Luke’s eyes canvas the crowd as soon as they’re finished and everyone starts packing up to leave. He’d found where his parents were sitting while Bobby was playing and he’s excited to hear what they thought.

He manages to place them again and runs up with a giant smile on his face. “So?” he asks impatiently.

“You did great, Luke.” Reggie, Bobby, and Alex had joined them and Emily looks at all four boys. “You all did.”

Luke and Reggie both beam at her, always soaking up any attention they can get.

“Luke did the whole arrangement!” Reggie gushes to Mitch and Emily.

“Oh, that’s great,” Emily replies, a bit muted and significantly less enthusiastically than Luke had hoped for.

“Didn’t you like it?” he asks.

“It’s just… is this really something you want to do?” she counters.

Luke’s eyes go wide and the other three boys look between each other in concern. “Yes, Ma! You just heard us, we’re great! Imagine how cool it will be when people are cheering for the songs that I wrote.”

Emily hums noncommittally and Mitch decides to take over. “You boys did a great job. Do you need rides home?”

He’s met with a chorus of “yes, sir!” and “please!” and he can’t help the light chuckle that escapes him.

Luke hangs behind as they follow his parents out to their station wagon. Alex notices and turns back to join him. “Don’t worry about them,” Alex says as they walk beside each other. “They’ll come around! You’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees softly. “They have to! We’re gonna make it, ‘Lex! I know it.”

Alex ruffles Luke’s hair with a small laugh, “yeah, buddy. We’ll make it.”

#nobodys fics #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #emily patterson #of course a fluffy little christmas piece needed to turn into luke and emily angst #i don't make the rules #i just write the story #sunset curve #young sunset curve #christmas fics

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