#but like there’s a part of me that’s simply ready to burst into tears at all times

[itspileofgoodthings]

things I am: slow, sensitive, stupid

[druidrot]

the shadow in the valley

pairing: gale dekarios/reader (f/m)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angst, slight death and descriptions of the void, gale gets his munch on, he calls reader tav ONCE (once), a fun little twist on gale's confession

rating: explicit - MDNI

Summary:

“Ah, so you return to us once more,” he teases, though his voice is tinged with something unplaceable. “You gave us all quite the scare.” 

“You look tired,” you respond simply, careful of the loaded statement. 

He barks out a disbelieving little chuckle, sighing as he runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, well, sleep eludes one when they worry over the life of their dearest companion.” 

That same stirring from before, back in that dreaded town, burns in your chest again. You can’t help it, so you find yourself teasing him. 

“Dearest companion, hmm?” Even though your voice is still a bit hoarse, you manage to sound coy. “I seem to remember you telling me you love me.”

You delight in the way the flush blooms from his neck to his face as he clears his throat. “Erm, well, yes, I suppose I did.”

At this point, the only thing you can focus on is the cold; dreadful, painful cold. 

It is as if ice twists itself down to your very core, gnawing at bone, sinew, blood. You think you have never felt so cold, so empty. Your ears ring and the pressure in your head is all-encompassing. It is as though you are in deep water; deep, frigid, unrelenting water. You think you register shouting through the overwhelming fog, but you can’t find the cognizance to concentrate on it. 

You feel the cold intensify, your insides twisting and coiling in discomfort. Then, you no longer feel even your own heartbeat, no longer feel the pain that so tortures you. Even the ringing in your ears fades, the sound becoming distant, discordant. It is like you sink further, deeper, like nothing surrounds you but a deep, endless abyss. 

What’s left of your mind wanders and you are weightless, thoughtless, nameless. Not even the cold bothers you anymore, nor the weight that encumbers your soul. This must be what death is. You can’t rationalize it, can’t name it anymore, but intrinsically some part of your soul recognizes that you float in the palms of Kelemvor.

Death is absence, peace. You are naught but the abyss that swallows you, ready to be harvested for the City of Judgment. There is a warm touch that blooms in the recesses of your soul, yet that sickening weight from before begins to return. The cold slowly begins to seep back into your being. The ringing in your ears, the pressure in your mind, even the fluttering of your frantic heart bursts back into existence, a violent cacophony of sensation that has your soul burning. The water that drags you under begins to recede.

With a sickening pop, you are thrust back into yourself. It is jarring, the sensation of returning to life. Your mind reels with memory, how you got here, where you just came from. You gasp, body lurching as that same dreadful cold from before burns through your waking bones. 

“By the gods,” you hear, distantly. “Shadowheart, she’s awake!” 

When your vision comes back into focus, you find that you are cradled in the arms of your resident wizard. His eyes shine with tears in the torchlight, but still he wears a small, tortured smile as he smooths a stray hair away from your forehead. 

“There you are,” he whispers, soft. “Stay with me now, love.”

You want to say something in response but all that comes out is a wet cough. You feel your chest rattle with the weight of it, cringing through the pain. Gale’s eyes harden as he calls for Shadowheart once more. 

You vaguely remember why you came here. The search for the Thorm mausoleum had taken you to the heart of Reithwin town. True to fashion, a pack of hungry shadows and shadow-cursed undead had waited rather patiently for an ambush.  

One wrong move on your part and a lash from a shadow vine sent you careening through the area, the pixie bell in your pocket falling loose during your unexpected flight. You had been cast to an area where the curse was particularly strong, and as you fought the shadows threatening to steal your soul, a wayward wraith shot you with a necrotic spell that sapped you of any strength. It was like being plunged into ice, the last thing you remember before waking up in Gale’s arms. 

You don’t understand why you haven’t been claimed already, but the cold that still engulfs you bodes ill. You can feel yourself slipping again, can feel that sweet call of the void that welcomed you before, the void that promises nothing, absence. 

“Hey, don’t you do this to me again,” you hear, distantly. “Stay with me, my love. Please stay with me.” 

You hum in response, tired. 

“Please,” Gale’s voice is hoarse with tears. Absently, you think you’ve never seen him look so scared before, not even when Mystra basically ordered him to his death. It gnaws at you, his fear. You don’t want him to be scared. 

“Gale,” you whisper, weakly. “It’ll be…just fine.” 

His answering laugh is humorless. “The woman I love lay dying in my arms and still you show remarkable optimism. Quite on the nose for you, yes.” 

Your fluttering heart jumps in your chest. You offer him a small smile, cracked with blood and fear. “You…love me…huh?” 

“So much more than you could ever imagine,” he responds quietly, resolutely. “Which is why I need you to stay alive. I have so much I’d like to share with you.” 

Once again, you find yourself wanting to respond but too weak to do so. Finally, you watch as Shadowheart and Karlach approach Gale, shining little pixie bell nestled between the fingers of your dear tiefling’s hand. Immediately, the cold seems to recede from your bones and you breathe a shaky sigh of relief. 

“Stay with us,” Shadowheart orders, falling to her knees beside you. Her face is streaked with blood and her eyes are steely, but still you see the fear that hides there. You try to offer her a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she whispers as she presses her hands over your heart. “Without that bell, my magic would do little to heal you. This curse is much too potent once you’ve been touched by it. I can do enough to ensure we make it back to Last Light. I don’t have much strength left so Isobel will have to do the rest.” 

You try to nod but the weariness you feel overtakes you. You let out a soft sound before giving into the warmth of the cleric’s magic, Gale’s worried eyes the last thing you see before you slip back into the welcoming darkness. 

-

This time you wake in peace. 

The bed under you is delightfully plush, even though it’s naught but straw and hay. You are pleasantly warm under the blankets, that wretched cold from earlier nowhere to be felt. Your body aches minutely, muscles sore and strained, but still you are so very much alive. You breathe a welcome sigh of relief, opening your eyes to the familiar interior of The Last Light Inn. The small room you occupy is a quaint bedroom, just a bed, a few wardrobes, and a small chair by the bed. It takes a moment for your mind to fully clear but when it does, you register the presence of your favorite wizard, sitting vigil in said little chair at the bedside. He offers you a grateful smile when you meet his tender gaze. 

“Ah, so you return to us once more,” he teases, though his voice is tinged with something unplaceable. “You gave us all quite the scare.” 

“You look tired,” you respond simply, careful of the loaded statement. 

He barks out a disbelieving little chuckle, sighing as he runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, well, sleep eludes one when they worry over the life of their dearest companion.” 

That same stirring from before, back in that dreaded town, burns in your chest again. You can’t help it, so you find yourself teasing him. 

“Dearest companion, hmm?” Even though your voice is still a bit hoarse, you manage to sound coy. “I seem to remember you telling me you love me.”

You delight in the way the flush blooms from his neck to his face as he clears his throat. “Erm, well, yes, I suppose I did.” 

You mewl softly. “While you thought I was dying in your arms, you told me you loved me.”

“I was there,” he reminds you, embarrassed. “And yes, I did tell you I loved you while you were dying in my arms. I could not allow you to pass on ignorant of what you mean to me.” 

Something warm settles in the pit of your belly and you can’t help the way your heart sings in your chest. You find yourself sitting up, laughing softly as he scrambles to help you. His arms are solid at your sides, warm, and when the impulse hits you to cradle his face in your hands and pull him close, you do. 

“Well, I’m still alive,” you breathe, blissfully aware of the way his pupils dilate. “Care to repeat it?"

Gale offers a tepid smile. He shifts so he sits on the bed with you, mindful of your sore body. It takes him a moment to muster his resolve, and you wait patiently as he mulls over what he would like to say to you. When he seems to have settled on something, he takes your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

“I had a plan,” he begins, gently. “I wanted to do this the right way, but it seems fate has other plans. If we were home, I would have taken you out to explore the wonders Waterdeep has to offer, wooing you over wine and weave. But this is what we have, here, now. You must know how special you are to me, Tav. I’m…I’m in love with you.”

Something warm breaks open in your chest. You don’t think you could find the words to say to him if you wanted to, so you do the next best thing. Leaning forward, you pull him as close to you as you can get him and you press your lips against his in a wanting, searing kiss. He groans softly, lips opening under yours instantly. His hand tangles in your hair and he presses even closer, still mindful of your sore body. 

Gale is a fervent kisser. He is a bit unpracticed, sure, but he more than makes up for it with the devotion that drives his lips. He presses you back into the plush blankets, careful to keep your body caged beneath him. He breaks the kiss after a few succulent moments, grinning down at you oh-so-charmingly. 

“If circumstances were different, I’d show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings,” he whispers, leaning down to smatter delicious kisses along your collarbone. “But time is short and you are still weak, not yet wholly mended. I would still like to express my love for you, if you are of a willing mind. I do believe I have an idea.” 

You coo softly as his teeth nip at your skin. The brush of his beard burning against your sensitive neck leaves you gasping, decadent heat blooming through you, lighting you on fire. He seems to like the response, chuckling darkly as he continues his ministrations. 

“Come now, love,” he rasps, moving back to kiss at your lips. “I cannot oblige you if you don’t give me an answer.” 

His kiss is distracting, consuming, but you muster the will to nod your head. “Yes, Gale. Please, anything. Make me feel alive.”

He groans in response. It is broken, desperate, and you find the urgency behind his next kiss breathtaking. So long have you waited for this moment, for the heat of his body against yours, the warm press of his adoring kiss. You want for nothing in this moment, just the building heat that seems to roar between you both. He allows himself to be greedy, stealing the breath straight from your lungs as his hands begin to caress you: your hips, your thighs, your ribcage. He is everywhere all at once, but you don't mind. You are lost to him, have been lost to him since the moment you pulled him out of that portal way back when. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve yearned for you,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, brushing aside the fabric at your collarbone so he can continue along his path. “I am a man starved.”

You moan quietly. “Gale…”

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Yes, my star, I hear you. I cannot wait any longer, either.”

He pushes up on his arms, beginning a slow, sensual descent to the open space between your legs. Once he is settled, his warm hands splay across your belly, handsome face heavy with desire. His eyes are molten pools of heat, yearning, desperation.

“Long has it been since I’ve delved into pleasures of the flesh,” he starts, a twinkle in those dark eyes. “But if you would allow me, I would like to indulge the both of us tonight.”

You swallow a heap of air. “Whatever you desire, Gale, please.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he responds with a grin, heavy hands gliding lower. “If it is your wish, I would like to feast on you tonight, my love. A promise of more to come, when time should allow it.”

“Gale,” you whimper, soft. “I think I should like that very much.” 

He practically glows with relief. You both recognize that the time for words has very much passed, so he makes quick work divesting you of your trousers. A wave of embarrassment washes over you - you are filthy, after all, covered in blood and muck and who knows what else - but your fears are quickly washed away when you take stock of him. HIs eyes are trained at the crux of your panties, right where your sopping cunt weeps through the fabric. He takes a heavy breath, hooded eyes peeking up to catch your heated gaze. 

“I will enjoy myself very, very much,” he growls, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe right over the fabric. You can’t help the gasp you let out, body tensing in anticipation. His answering laugh is low, heady with his desire. He is quick to free you of your panties, eyes softening as he’s greeted by the glistening warmth of your cunt. You want to be embarrassed, want to close your legs and offer yourself another night, but the way he stares at you keeps you rooted in place. He licks his lips, groaning softly as you let out a small, inadvertent moan. 

“If it is too much, tell me to stop,” he orders, leaning forwards. “Otherwise, I plan to leave you absolutely shattered.” 

You don’t have time to respond. Gale’s tongue is hot when he presses it against your clit, delicate at first: a test. He grunts, and soon he takes to licking long stripes through your folds, catching the gathered slick on his tongue. It is positively sinful the way he moves, so slow and deliberate. His tongue is wet, warm, heavy. You mewl as he returns to your clit, sucking softly as his fingers tease at your folds. Considering you now know what death feels like, this is the closest you think you’ll ever get to heaven. 

His onslaught is pure, unadulterated delight. His beard scratches at your cunt deliciously, glistening with the shine of your desire. He is enthusiastic in his ministrations, lapping at you like a man starved, which by his own words, he is. His fingers find your clit, and before you can register it, his tongue dips down into the heat of your entrance. You cry out, hips canting up as he groans in approval. His thumb rubs delicious circles around your clit, tongue dipping in and out of your hole so wantonly you might combust. 

“That’s it,” he croons, taking a moment to take a breath, thumb still relentlessly at your clit. “Chase it, my love. Use me for your pleasure.” 

You nearly cry. He moves back to gentle laps at your clit with his tongue, fingers dipping dangerously low before he breaches your entrance with the tip of a finger. You mewl, body arching off the bed when he plunges the whole digit in. Were he anyone else, you think you’d be embarrassed by the squelch of your quivering cunt. Instead, you find it adds to your arousal, the sound a beautiful cadence, evidence of your undoing at his hands. He plunges another finger in, still slurping and sucking at your sweet little bundle of nerves. He curls those two fingers up, searching for a moment until he finds the spot that has you seeing stars. 

“You are maddeningly beautiful like this,” he whispers, pulling away to level you with a lovesick grin, still plundering away with his fingers. “I can’t wait to ravish you properly, my star. The sight of you wrapped around my cock would be most rapturous indeed.” 

You groan, voice sticky with need. He returns his full attention back to your cunt, sighing happily as he wraps his lips around your engorged clit. He picks up the pace of his fingers, adding a third digit when you begin to pant like a madwoman. He sucks harshly at your clit, groaning his own pleasure when a spasm rocks through you. His fingers hit deliciously deep, his mouth on your clit only adding to the rapid fire that begins to burn through your cunt. 

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, a telltale sign you’re close. Gale doesn’t miss a beat. His fingers take to a wicked pace, his tongue moving around your clit in filthy, sinful circles. It doesn’t take much more to send you over the edge you suddenly find yourself careening over. You gasp brokenly, hips trying to cant away from him as he finishes you off. 

“Just like that,” he praises, rather smugly. “Let yourself go, my love, let yourself release.” 

It is like a rubber band snaps, the pressure in your cunt growing until it explodes. You almost quake with the intensity of your cunt bearing down on his fingers, slick pooling around them in thick, delicious rivulets. Sensation leaves you all at once, and when you finally come back to yourself, Gale hovers over you with a knowing smile, beard still glistening, fingers still shining with your arousal. 

He licks them clean, of course, and you mewl as your cunt clenches around nothing. He laughs adoringly, smoothing your hair down with the hand that wasn't inside of you. 

“You are absolutely divine,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you despite the slick gathered around his face. “Nothing or no one in the planes could ever compare.” 

You feel yourself flush but still you offer him a warm smile. “Thank you, Gale. Truly.” 

“Make no mention of it,” he returns, humbly. “This was a gift for me as well. I only hope that it will not be the last time you and I can be alone together like this.” 

You grin coquettishly. “Gale, I think I’m spoiled for anyone else. I love you, I want you. At this point, it will take Ao himself to tear me from you.” 

“Then I am a man most lucky,” he concedes, kissing you once more. “Now, as much as I’d love to keep you to myself like this, I believe the others are waiting for your recovery. We should clean you up and get you something to eat. You still need to recover your strength if we are to continue our journey.” 

He helps you back into your trousers and with a quick cast of prestidigitation, you find yourselves blessedly free of the cum, blood, and dirt miring both of you. You smile graciously as he helps you to your feet. 

“I meant it when I said I love you,” he murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. “I really thought I was going to lose you.” 

“I’m here now,” you respond, resolutely. “And I won’t let my guard down again, of that I can assure you. We will find a way to keep you here with me, too. I cannot lose you, Gale. Not now.” 

He smiles sadly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Come now, my love. That conversation is best saved for the morning. Let us return to our companions tonight, hmm? They are eager to see you and while you are delightfully decadent, I find myself hungering for some real food.” 

It is easy to concede to him tonight. You know the stakes are ever-raising but you also know that you are more than equipped to handle them. For now, you allow yourself this sweet little respite with the man you love, end of the world be damned. So you smile and offer a sweet kiss, taking his hand as you begin the walk back to your waiting companions.  

۵۵۵۵۵

welp, this was born from pure wish fulfillment so i hope u enjoy. crossposted on my ao3! this was inspired by a prompt from one of the recent lists i reblogged: Prompt #1025: "You told me you loved me." "Yes." "While you thought I was dying in your arms." "Yes." "Well, I’m still alive. Care to repeat that?"

as usual, requests are open! comments, reblogs, and follows are greatly appreciated!

[adventuringblind]

Two Things to Celebrate

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: fluffyyyyyyy

Summary: Reader gets sick during the race weekend. When she comes to congratulate Oscar on his race the next day, he finds out there is more to celebrate than just a good result.

Warnings: talks of sickness and pregnancy. Mentions of sex. Not proofread... *Snape impression* obviously.

Request: Yes, I'm here for it, I didn't know I needed this in my life until now. Also, requests are open. Specifically for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and possibly Danny Ricc.

Notes: written in second. This is out of my comfort zone.... much better at writing angsty things me thinks XD

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Oscar is the gentleman that everyone expects him to be. He opens the door for you. Buys you flowers on random occasions. He had pratically given you the role of passenger princess (not that you protested).

You, on the other hand, got the privilege of knowing that he is not always a gentleman. The side of Oscar that was only for those close to him.

He doesn't like showing his more vulnerable emotions to everyone. Lando, who had recently gotten close to Oscar, was shocked when he started yelling in frustration.

You knew there needed to be some reprive for him. The season had started off terribly. Often leaving Oscar in shambles after races.

He'd be calm for that camera. Always trying to find the positives of the weekend. Then found himself breaking down at home.

You hated seeing him like that.

Depending on the mood, you would simply listen and run your fingers through his hair. Other times, you distracted him with a nice meal and a movie of some sort.

When he was angry, though, you found yourself letting him use your body for reprieve. Letting out his pent up frustration and adrenaline from frustrating weekends became part of the routine during the season. Sometimes getting so frustrated with his results that you let him have his way with you for hours.

You two didn't think much of it. The sex was great, and the aftercare care even better. The thought of a second form of contraception not crossing either of your minds. You were on the pill and thought it would be enough.

That's probably the reason you got yourself here.

You were in Silverstone with Oscar. Both of you keep your fingers crossed that the car upgrades work as well for him as they did for Lando. It was killing you waiting for Q3 to start.

Maybe it was anxiety for Oscar, but you hadn’t been feeling the best for a few weeks now. You’d assumed it was just because of everything going on. Today seemed to worse then any other. The nausea becoming increasingly overwhelming.

Drinking water was only helping the pain so much. You needed it though. You are determined to watch Oscar finish. It was his first time getting into Q3 and you wanted to be ready and cheering with him when he came back. Whether he was tenth or not didn’t matter, he’s driving brilliantly which is always something to be excited about.

Then the feeling caught up to you. Quickly having to excuse yourself and find the nearest restroom. Only to to feel the water you had been drinking burning up your throat.

The feeling didn’t stop either. Your body deciding to continue ridding itself of whatever was in your stomach. Meaning that you spent the rest of Q3 locked in the restroom. Forced to watch from your phone.

You burst into tears when Oscar qualified third. Sobbing like a maniac over how proud of him you are. The suddenness of it making you keel over again.

Oscar got back to the garage as fast as possible. He couldn’t wait to find you thank you for having so match faith in him. Maybe he would take for a nice dinner to celebrate.

When he got there, however, you were nowhere to be seen. He knows you wouldn’t just leave without saying something, but where would you have gone?

He finally started asking anyone who would have been with in the garage with you. Eventually getting his answer.

He approached the bathroom door and knocked gently.

“Are you alright, love” Oscar wasn’t sure what had happened so he tried to keep his voice calm.

“It’s not locked I don’t thing.” He heard you rasp from the other side. Immediately he tried the handle to find that it is indeed not locked. He pushes the door open revealing your body barely able to hold itself up agains the wall. You were trying to stand on shaky legs but smiling excitedly and him nonetheless less.

You were grateful when Oscar came to help up upright. “I’m so proud of you.” You sobbed.

Oscars mix of emotions overwhelmed him. He had questions and concern for your well being but was smiling and embracing with joy.

Finally coming down from the high, he is able to address the current situation. His eyes scanned over you body and face. Particularly noting how your eyes are puffy and your cheeks shiny from tears. “Are you ok.” He finally managed to get out.

“Yes, I’m just not feeling the greatest. I think I might of picked something up.” Your throat still hurt from dry heaving leaving your voice broken.

Oscar move you to the side of him so he could help you walk out. “Lets get you home then.”

“But don’t you want to celebrate?”

“We can do that at home, in bed with tea to help you get well.”

Oscar bid farewell to the team. Telling Zak that it was urgent he get you home.

Being the gentleman he is, Oscar got you changed and into bed. He then decided soft foods were necessary incase you got sick again.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick also?” You ask.

Oscar just smiles and crawls into bed with you. “And give up a cozy movie night? Never.”

You wonder for a moment how you got so lucky. Almost crying again at the thought. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with you.”

Oscar whips his head around to look at you. An exaggerated look of shock plastered on his face. “Don’t you dare apologize for getting sick because you know it’s out of your control.” He pulls you into him and threads his fingers through your hair. “I do think you should go to the doctors in the morning though.” He admits.

Night came and went to quickly. Hating that you and Oscar had to say goodbye and go your separate ways. You’d taken his advice and decided to see a doctor just in case it was something more serious since you’d not been feeling well for a long while now.

A month ago you’d contracted an infection and had to be put on antibiotics. It was miserable but you thought you were on the mend. Seems you were mistaken.

The waiting was killing you. It had taken so long that you had to call Oscar to wish him luck then watching the race from your phone. It hurt you because you have a feeling it’s going to go amazing for him.

Finally after some tests, the doctor came in with the results.

“Congratulations,” she smiled. “You’re pregnant!”

Your fall falls open in shock. How did this happen? We’re you ready for this? You and Oscar had mentioned kids in the future but would he be ok with now? Your mind reels with emotion. Tears again in the verge of spilling. “How?” Was the only question you managed to get out.

“Well birth control doesn’t always work, and you had an infection recently correct?” She asks. You nod your head in response, slightly confused at the correlation. “Antibiotics negate the effects of birth control.” She explains.

Realization settles into your stomach. How could you not have know that? You mentally smack yourself for being stupid.

You thank the doctor and quickly get into your car. There is still time before the race ends and you’re determined to be there.

The drive goes by in a blur, listening to the race going as you drove. Getting slightly frustrated with the unlucky safety car but happy that Oscar was still up in fourth.

You finally got parked and practically sprinted to the McLaren garage. Just in time for the last few minutes. Everyone cheering wildly at the boys placing second and fourth.

When Oscar was finally able to get back to the garage after doing some interviews, he was not expecting to have you jumping into his arms.

He spins you in the air as you two embrace each other. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile at him. He only hugs you tighter and mumbles like ‘thank you’s into your skin.

When he sets you down, he looks relived. “Good news from the doctor then?” His eyebrows lift in curiosity.

“More like interesting news.” You immediately find that it’s much harder to tell him then you thought. Playing with the sleeves on your shirt instead of looking at him.

Oscar is immediately filled with concern again at your sudden change of emotion. “Whatever it is love, we’ll get through it.” He cradles you face in his hands. Gently coaxing you into communicating with him.

You inhale deeply, steeling yourself for whatever reaction he might have. “I’m pregnant.”

You find his eyes and search for any sign of anger or disappointment. Only to be met with an ear to ear grin. “I’m gonna be a dad?!”

Oscar picks you up and spins you again. “I guess we have more then one thing to celebrate tonight!” He shouts. The rest of the garage now staring at the two lovebirds. “I have to tell Lando. He’s going to be thrilled.”

You giggle at the relationship between the two boys. They’d gotten so close through all the struggles this season. Thankfully it didn’t take you long to find him. Not like it was that hard considering he is wearing neon yellow.

Oscar almost tackles him into a hug. Lando laughing at him, not having see this side of the Australian yet. “What’s going on with you.” He laughs. “The adrenaline getting to your head?”

Oscar makes a quick recovery and catches his breath. “I have to tell you something.” His smile so large it might come off his face. “We’re expecting.”

Lando stares between you two for a moment. Processing what he just heard. Before finally he shouts in happiness for you. “Oh my gosh this is amazing!” He smiles and throws his hand up. “I call being the godfather. I called it first so you can’t say no.”

You laugh at his antics. Both boys now coming back to you with cheery words.

As you and Oscar went home that night, you realize just how much you love each other. It might not have been what either of you planned, but neither of you would have it any other way.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XI good omens season 1 finale I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE, I WAS READING FANFIC.

How is this a title I'm now forced to write. Yes, I know it's been a week since I finished episode 6 with you maggots. And today is the day we start season 2. However, I, the Official Good Omens Mascot, procrastinated writing part XI, because I was reading too much good omens fanfiction. Yesterday I do believe I was reading till 3 in the morning. Thanks guys.

Season 1 finale, or whatever I can figure out with my records of the watch along chat, at least. WAHOO.

[EDIT: I'm back at the intro after finishing this post, and I realised this is a very long summary, because most of it is me yelling at you guys. As I typed it I started reliving my rage of last week. Read on if you dare, yes the post is long, and yes the second half is in all caps. THIS TOOK EMOTION. YOU GUYS BETTER REBLOG IT INSTEAD OF LIKING IT SILENTLY WHILE LAUGHING AT MY PAIN. I WANT MY RAGE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR.]

Someone puts a message about how Crowley can no longer sense Aziraphale's presence, and again for some reason covers it with black. My reaction is of course horrified, and then everyone tells me to STOP CLICKING THE SPOILERS, ASMI.

So that's what that was. I realise this out loud, and everyone is ready to cry with exasperation. I explain to them very reasonably that while I don't read every message on the watch-along chat, every time there is a black message I assume it's important and I click on all of them to reveal the text.

Realising the spoiler function has backfired, as most things do with me, the chat sighs and everyone goes for a break. Then someone puts another blacked out message about the bookshop, and I react to that, leading to another blacked out message which simply says STOP CLICKING THE BLACK.

Oops, I already forgot. THE SPOILERS ARE JUST TOO CLICKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. I HAVE TO CLICK ALL OF THEM.

Someone says I forgive you, Asmi. I reply with Don't bother, which leads to tears and threats to stab me. The chat maggots give up and we start episode 6.

There is a random flashforward. I don't understand what is happening, but then again, I never do.

Back at the airfield. Crowley walks in, recognises their hubby instantly, and takes charge sexily. Then the Bentley bursts into flames.

Crowley is heartbroken. No one comforts them. When I point this out (read, YELL IT AT THE CHAT IN DEVASTATION) someone tells me that this is how it always is.

APPARENTLY DAVID WAS TOLD TO THINK ABOUT THE TARDIS EXPLODING IN THAT MOMENT. I HATE THAT I KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.

Crowley needs all the therapy. Someone says kinder fanfic authors give it to him. LIES, I point out, FIRST THEY GIVE HIM EVEN MORE REASON FOR THERAPY. THEN GIVE HIM THERAPY.

Everyone is yelling about a fanfic called demonology while Adam the Antichrist feels so weird at Aziraphale being inside someone that's not Crowley that he separates them in the First Bigeneration style. Doctor Who is inspired.

Aziraphale like the babygirl he is, tries to girlboss his way through the situation by making Crowley murder the kid.

Pepper FUCKING STABS WAR IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM WITH THE SWORD OF EDEN AND THEN OTHER TWO KIDS END THE OTHER HORSEPERSONS IN THE NAME OF HOMECOOKED MEALS AND ECOFRIENDLINESS AND WHAT THE FUCK THESE KIDS ARE TWELVE WHAT PERCY JACKSON LEVEL OF BADASSERY-

Crowley and Aziraphale give a half-assed attempt at a father-son (gn) talk with the Antichrist as the world is ending. It is a terrible contribution to saving the world. The Antichrist thankfully has inherent common sense, because he wasn't raised by them.

Aziraphale tries to overshare his and Crowley's meetcute and has to be shushed by an embarrassed Crowley who is trying to keep them alive.

Satan is supposed to arrive. I mistakenly assume Gabriel is actually Satan. Which pleases a lot of people.

Gabriel and Beezlebub talk and blame Crowley and Aziraphale (who contributed exactly JACK SHIT to averting the apocalypse).

I kind of ship Gabriel and Beezlebub after seeing them interact for 30 seconds, which for some fucking reason leads to a lot of reactions and yelling. I want them to be together. Which leads to more yelling. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY CANON?

Satan arrives. Antichrist disowns him. Through the power of Manifestation, Law of Attraction and Positive Thinking, Adam is now no longer the Antichrist, Satan leaves, none of this happened and the BENTLEY AND BOOKSHOP ARE SAVED.

NO ONE IS FUCKING HUGGING CROWLEY. I'M GOING TO STAB A BITCH.

There is the bus stop scene Crowley asks Aziraphale to move in with him and they hold hands I DON'T FUCKING KNOW BY NOW THE CHAT HAS DESCENDED INTO CHAOS I'VE LOST MY BRAINCELLS.

ICE CREAM DATE AND SUDDEN INVASION AND I'M WATCHING THE ACTING AND I'M LIKE HANG ON A SECOND SOMETHING IS OFF AND I ASK SUDDENLY IF THEY SWITCHED.

THAT'S RIGHT, I ASK IF THEY SWITCHED. I KNEW THERE WAS A SWITCH AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MIDWAY THROUGH SEASON 2. BUT THE SIGNS ARE TOO MANY HERE. EVERYONE IS NOW YELLING AND PEOPLE KEEP IGNORING ME.

ALL THE ACTING IS FLIPPED I'M NOT BLIND YOU FUCKERS. AZIRAPHALE'S FACE IS DOING CROWLEY'S COULDNT-CARE-LESS EXPRESSION AND HE'S QUESTIONING HEAVEN AND CROWLEY'S TALKING HAS LESS CONSONANTS THAN USUAL AND NO CROWLEY SASS MORE AZIRAPHALE SASS IT'S THE SAME BACKGROUND AS THE NOSE-SCRUNCH SCENE AND SURELY THAT WAS AZIRAPHALE RIGHT.

EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME TO WAIT AND SEE. I KEEP YELLING THAT THEY MUST HAVE SWITCHED.

SOMEONE SAYS I'M EITHER A MADMAN OR A GENIUS. I TELL THEM I'M BOTH BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT DID THEY FUCKING SWITCH.

I'M NOW QUESTIONING MYSELF BECAUSE EVERYONE ISN'T LYING BUT THEY'RE MAKING ME QUESTION MY REALITY SO THE CLASSIC GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSSING.

I'M YELLING ABOUT HOW ONLY AZIRAPHALE WOULD BE POLITE ABOUT JACKETS AND SURVIVE HOLY WATER. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING AT ME. I'M NOW 60% SURE I'M WRONG.

PEOPLE KEEP YELLING WAIT AND SEE AND TALKING ABOUT SADIE AND DOTTIE I HATE IT HERE.

CROWLEY IS IN HEAVEN THAT WAS HIS DISMISSIVE LOOK I'M NOW 90% SURE I'M RIGHT. I'M YELLING ABOUT IT.

ADAM LEAVES THE GARDEN IN A METAPHOR AND THEN AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY SWITCHED BACK. THEY SWITCHED BACK. I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. I AM LIVID. I AM YELLING.

IT'S VERY EMOTIONAL AND NIGHTINGALES AND THEY TOAST THE WORLD AND I'M VERY EMOTIONAL BUT I'M COPING BY THREATENING MURDER BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING RIGHT.

THE END.

SEE YOU GUYS TODAY AT SEASON 2 I GUESS GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

[slytherheign]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS | daniel ricciardo

PART 4/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: ex!daniel ricciardo x fem!reader, max verstappen x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

WARNINGS: rejection, false hope, infatuation, feelings of hurt and overwhelming pain. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. we have reached the end of the series! sorry if i hurt some of you emotionally. btw, there are a lot of references to the previous parts in this.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Rejection.

A word that carried so much weight in matters of the heart. It hit him with a force he never saw coming, leaving him breathless, bewildered, and questioning every decision he had made.

The pain of rejection cut deep, undermining the confidence he once had, and casting shadows over the hopes and dreams he dared to envision. 

Rejected.

Rejected from McLaren.

Rejected from a Red Bull seat.

And now, he was rejected once again.

In an instant, his world felt shattered, and he questioned just how worthy he truly was of love and affection.

He poured his heart out, baring his soul in that vulnerable moment when he knelt with one knee. He thought you had shared something meaningful, a connection that was genuine and real.

He thought it would be enough.

Daniel’s car traveled home with one less person inside that night. But even if he was already in his garage, he refused to step out of his car. He stayed so he could sit there in his hurt. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within him.

It was hard, almost impossible, not to take it personally, to wonder what could have gone wrong. Was it something he said? Something he did? Or perhaps it was simply a matter of timing and circumstance, beyond his control.

He ran his hand through his hair, his face reflecting a mixture of frustration and resignation.

He could say that he longed for clarity, a glimpse into your thoughts and reasons, but that would be a lie. Because in all honesty, he kind of saw it coming.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that you picked Max or the fact that there was a part of him that always knew you would pick Max.

Why did he even try?

Oh, right.

Hope.

Because of hope.

He tried because you showed him hope.

You showed him hope—a glimmer of light that he hadn't seen in ages. Life had become monotonous, blending into an array of muted gray, until you came along. Your entry into his life was like a vibrant burst of color, injecting new life into his weary soul. He dared to hope, to believe that he had found something extraordinary.

It was a peculiar feeling. To be caught between longing and despair, to have his heart both soar and shatter within the same breath. The intoxicating aura of love was both a beacon of hope and a cruel illusion, and he found himself entangled in that painful paradox.

With a final deep breath, he left his car, ready to face his family who were staying in his home just for this special night. He told his family for a reason, he just couldn’t keep it in.

But now he wished he didn’t.

Cheer and applause were what met him when he entered the door. His family had huge smiles plastered on their faces, clearly excited about the news they were expecting. 

Until it stopped.

It all stopped when his lips trembled, trying to fake a smile. 

It all stopped when they saw the tears on his face.

They didn’t even need to ask what happened. They already knew.

His sister splashed out the bottle of Dom Perignon, but no one was celebrating. 

"She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's fucked in the head," his father said. His mom’s ring was still in his pocket, and your picture was still in his wallet. But love… 

Love slipped beyond his reaches.

There was nothing to celebrate.

Max was walking you home, still holding the umbrella to protect you from the rain. Neither of you spoke and neither of you really cared. Max knew, from the way your lips shook, eyes cried, and the whimpers that left your mouth, that you did not want to speak at that moment. He respected and understood that.

He was more understanding now than he was before.

You were speechless. Your mouth could not utter a single word, but your mind made up for it by clouding itself with overwhelming thoughts.

You remembered that one night when fate played a part in your first meeting with Daniel. 

That night, he asked you to dance and you refused. You refused because you knew he was asking you to dance to a song of love and new beginnings.

But after a single conversation, it was you who asked him if he was still willing to dance.

You always knew that dancing was a dangerous game. But that night, you started it when you offered your hand to Daniel.

The dance continued. 

But now, you dropped his dance while dancing. Left him out there, crestfallen on the landing with your champagne problems.

One for the money.

Two for the show.

You never were ready.

So, you let him go.

And you left him alone.

You just didn’t know the answer until he was already on his knees and asked you.

You couldn’t even give him a reason.

His proposal should have brought you joy, excitement, and a feeling of being cherished. But instead, you had found yourself struggling, torn between the present and the ghosts of your past.

The same exact past that was walking beside you right now.

It was not that Daniel wasn't kind or loving, he truly was. He possessed all the qualities one could desire in a partner. But your heart lingered elsewhere.

There was someone before him. Someone who awoken a flame within you, a love so fierce and profound that it felt like it could withstand anything. And then, life happened, and you drifted apart, your paths diverging towards separate horizons.

But even as the seasons changed, and new opportunities came knocking at your door, that love never truly left you. It remained etched in the deepest recesses of your being, an indelible mark upon your soul.

Accepting his proposal would have been a betrayal, not only to him, but to yourself as well. It was a painful decision to make, but you owed it to yourself and to him, to be honest and not settle for anything less than a love that was pure. For one can only truly give their heart to another when they are whole themselves.

His heart was glass and you dropped it.

You didn’t even notice you reached your apartment until Max opened the door for you. He sat you down on your couch, before leaving you for a moment to heat some water and prepare a bath for you. 

He went back right after, crouching in front of you so he could see your face. You were looking down, still crying. He placed a finger under your chin, moving it upwards so you could face him. And then he fixed the wet hair that covered your face, wiped your tears, and kissed your forehead.

The heart wants what it wants, and yours was still beating in an unbreakable rhythm alongside the person in front of you—Max.

You suddenly recalled what Daniel told you before, when he told you an advice his father gave him and then he explained it.

“Time matters, yes. But the length is subjective. Love is not supposed to be a competition where time is the sole judge. Sometimes, longer doesn’t mean healthier, and shorter doesn’t make it insincere or artificial.”

He said that love was not supposed to be a competition. And he was not wrong about that.

It wasn’t a competition because it never was a competition in the first place.

You loved Daniel, but you were in love with Max.

It was always Max.

He poured his heart into that proposal, believing that you were the one. He had envisioned a future together with you, filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. But perhaps fate had different plans in store for him. And though it stung him, he must pick up the pieces and keep moving forward.

His heart ached now. Those promises whispered in the darkest hours, the dreams woven with tender hands, they all shimmered with the possibility of a love that transcended boundaries. He clung to those words, as fragile as glass, praying that they would withstand the test of time.

Yet, here he was, lost in a labyrinth of broken dreams. The reality bit bitterly, gnawing at the frayed edges of his shattered heart. False hope, they called it. A cruel game of chance that you unwittingly roped him into. He knew, deep down, that you didn't do it intentionally. And that knowledge is what steeped his sorrow in a pot of bittersweet brew.

Because despite the pain that seared through his veins, he couldn't summon an ember of anger towards you. Love had a way of blinding people to the faults of those we held dearest. And so, he found himself teetering on the precipice of resentment and forgiveness, unable to fully commit to either.

It was a lonely place to be trapped in, the emotional escape room in his heart that didn't have an escape. The echoes of once-hopeful conversations reverberated through the hollow chambers of his mind, each word etching deeper into his wounded heart. 

Though the pain felt overwhelming now, Daniel knew that time would heal his wounds. It may take days, weeks, or even months, but he would pick up the pieces, rebuild his shattered heart, and learn to love again.

NETHERLANDS. AUGUST 25, 2024.

Daniel was running down the paddock, planning to head to the pitlane when a curious photographer stopped him to ask a question.

“Sorry for asking this, but I think I speak for all of us,” the photographer pointed to the fans behind him who were clearly recording this exact moment. They cheered the moment Daniel looked at them and he smiled. “When I say we are all curious about what really is your relationship with Y/N?” the photographer continued.

He chuckled. “Why did you want to know that?”

“Well, she hasn’t been beside you for months and then we just saw her with Max hours ago before you came.”

He could only smile, a genuine one.

“Y/N and I are friends, really close friends like what we’ve always been.”

“Really? Some of us thought you were dating because she was seen a lot with you before,” a fan shouted.

He laughed.

They didn’t need to know.

“What? I can’t have a female friend now?” he joked.

“Now that I’m thinking about it… you never launched anything,” the photographer mentioned.

Right. Even after dating you for months, you didn’t want to be affectionate with him in public. That was another telltale sign he chose to ignore. That was the reason he decided to propose in just under 6 months of being in a relationship with you. It was because he was in a rush, he thought that if you became engaged, you would finally let him tell the world about the two of you.

Now that he thought about it, maybe what he had was just an infatuation. An infatuation so intense that it hurt like the real thing. Maybe for so long, he just wanted to feel something and you came along at the right time. He didn’t even know anymore. And he didn’t want to know. It was all in the past.

“That’s right,” Daniel nodded. “Because we have nothing to launch.”

Just as he said that, you and Max entered his view. You two were holding hands and Max was laughing at something you said.

Daniel smiled.

“Look at them,” he gestured to you and Max, the photographer and the fans looked at who he was pointing to. “Max and her are literally meant for each other.”

“I’ve never seen Max laugh like that before,” the photographer said.

“Well, Y/N is the only one who could make him laugh like that if we’re being honest,” he chuckled again. “They make a great couple, they make each other so happy. And I’m happy for them,” he said.

Love wasn't a dead-end road; it was a winding path, full of twists and turns. Rejection was a part of that journey. For deep within, beyond the realms of rejection, dwelled a longing for love that refused to extinguish. He believed there was someone out there, someone who was meant to be for him, just as you were meant to be with Max.

There was one more thing Daniel always believed in other than taking chances.

It was that everything happens for a reason.

You and Max caught his eyes. Max nodded at him, he nodded back. 

If he could turn back time, he wouldn't change a thing.

He may not have found the love of his life, but he did find another best friend. 

He smiled at both of you, and you returned his smile.

You both knew Daniel would find the real thing instead.

She would patch up the tapestry that you shred.

And he wouldn’t even remember all your champagne problems.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

JOIN THE FINALE CELEBRATION!

[iaure]

𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1: 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

CW: delusion, chase sequence, desire to kill, fear of death, vivid description of bodily injury, kissing due to non-sexual desperation, non-lethal self-sacrifice

This part switches between Miguel's POV and the Reader's. ♱ stands for the translation being at the bottom of the post. please let me know immediately if there are any errors! Severe spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ it’s been very long! i am afraid i do not have much to say, aside that this was beta-read by the lovely @kinkandkreep​​ ! 

wc: 7k

𝐘/𝐍 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

The landing of the Spider-Society that Y/N found herself on was dusty, unkept. It was clear that no one had been there for ages. Y/N had to hold back a sneeze. Glass riddled her abdomen and arms, and sneezing felt like something that’d turn her into even more of a mutated pin cushion. There was a cautious silence, or at least, as silent as Nueva York could get when there was a shattered glass window next to her. Her options were laid out before her. Y/N could go home, take care of her fish, and hide out. But Miguel inevitably would come to the same conclusion. That could mean devastation for her own city. Nuevo York wouldn’t be ready for someone like Miguel. Meanwhile, simply texting the neighbour to take care of Y/N’s pet would only take a second. Betty Boop the clownfish would prevail. There was tailing Gwen and the others-trying to intercept Miles in Earth-1610-B, to snag him before the others did. But there was no guarantee Y/N would find him. For an anomaly, he was slippery.

For an anomaly?

Y/N paused. Miles was an anomaly. So, hypothetically, since he used the Go Home Machine, it wouldn’t have read his DNA specifically. It would’ve read the DNA of his associated spider. Which meant...he wouldn’t have gone home. Y/N’s stomach churned, glass aside. Miles was all alone somewhere, lost and confused in a place that didn’t have room for him. He needed help, help that was someone he knew for sure was on his side. Gwen always meant well, and so did Peter B, but the damage on their end had been done. But she saw Miles’ face when he took the extra seconds she lent him. She knew that he knew.

Y/N input the coordinates for Earth-42.

The portal took a second to fizz to life. Y/N would need to get rid of the watch, considering its tracking capabilities. But Layla could track anyway. Layla was good, was sweet, but she was Miguel’s, and at the end of the day, it was about sending a message. Y/N wouldn’t need Miguel’s gadgets. She’d make her own. Or she’d find some other way to get home. And as she waited for the portal to be big enough to go through, a shiver went up her spine. There was the sound of metal being torn, 100 yards away. 80 yards. 60 yards. Shredded under something undoubtedly massive, torn from the side like a beast. It was grating, echoing through the empty bowels of the Spider-Society. And, unfortunately, Y/N knew exactly what that meant. Miguel was tearing up the sides of the tower to get to her, and Y/N was very much not planning to let him get anywhere near her. The portal stretched open as Miguel finally burst through the window. The excess glass seemed to bounce off of him, and there was a moment where Y/N was just jealous. How come her suit couldn’t do that, huh? Would’ve been nice. But Miguel spilled across the floor, trying to claw at anything to just find purchase to stop moving. It would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.

Miguel finally stopped moving about a yard away, on all fours and struggling to find his stance. He scrambled to his feet, booking it to Y/N with a shout. “Don’t move!” “You didn’t say ‘Simon’s Says’, Miguel.” Y/N quipped, shocking calm coming over her considering how scary this all was. She felt like she was in control. After all, Miguel hadn’t figured out Miles was on Earth-42 yet. She’d have some time before he figured it out, even if it was just a minute. She, finally, had the power. Miguel might be rushing at her with all the desperation of a starved man, but Y/N just needed to take a step back. This nightmare was almost over, or at least, this bout of it. The portal was already shrinking, and Miguel wouldn’t have the time to go through it. “No! No! Wait! Y/N!” Miguel’s tone was that of begging, a realisation that it was up to her own choice whether or not he’d win. His eyes were wide, with a puppy look that would’ve made Y/N crumble at any other time. He had it down on lock, if that included running on all fours and reaching out within an inch of space.

Y/N crushed the watch in her hands and fell through.

She never liked the feeling of teleporting. The colours made her head spin and hurt, but right now, it was like seeing secondary colour angels. There was no Miguel, no Spider-Society. It was her and the complete multiverse at her behest.

The portal spat her out in an alleyway, sending her crashing into some cardboard boxes. It took a second, but once she realised Miguel wasn’t going to immediately tear through space and time, Y/N could only turn into boneless goo. Her entire body went limp. She was bleeding from the arms and stomach, her torso practically obliterated from the three total times she went through glass. The adrenaline ebbed away to world-ending pain. It was truly only describable as an ache that made her want to die, consuming her whole as she slumped against the bricks of the alleyway. She placed her hand against her abdomen, pressing down and feeling the glass dig in. Part of Y/N wondered if this was it. She knew Earth-42 was dangerous, due to its lack of a Spider-Man. She was defenceless, wounded, feeble, dying. The end of the illustrious Spider-Woman of Earth-7290, in a world far from her own. It was disappointing that Y/N was going to die in a place so beautiful.

New York was something sacred. Somewhere direct from the original birthplace of Spider-Man. Not Nueva York, not Nuevo York, whatever faux iteration that was a spin-off. A thousand twinkling lights that replaced the stars, so bright that the day would pale in comparison. New York was home. Even from the grubby, ugly alleyway, Y/N could see the lights of Times Square. The voices of the masses, the promise of help if only she could raise her voice. But no. The danger outweighed the reward. Part of her wondered what would happen to her body after she died. Would it lay in the alleyway to rot? Would it disappear back to her home world, somehow, someway? And what of Nueva York? Would Miguel be so delusional as to get revenge on Y/N’s beloved city? Or would it be abandoned in the wake of his death? She would’ve been something of legend, if fate was kind. A hero, disappearing into the mist without explanation. But even then, that was disappointing.

An ache settled into her heart. A sadness that choked her, like a bitter pill. Y/N had her regrets. Her uncle Ben, her brother, not helping Miles and the rest of the kids more, not having the courage to step up to canon before. To not be a better Spider. Not a better Society member, but a better Spider. A Spider-Woman that the original Peter Parker would be proud of. Y/N was a guilty heart, safe for one more minute. She didn’t even have the strength to do much more than crane her head, staring up past the skyscrapers to the night sky. And as those sparkling lights dimmed and the darkness grew, Y/N saw a flash of purple before she knew no more.

Miguel couldn’t believe it.

It’d been ten minutes since Y/N had run. And it was something that could only be categorised as ‘against all odds’. Miles had gotten away. Y/N had gotten away. The Spider-Society was in shambles. Spiders were defecting left and right. Gwen, Jessica, Peter, and countless others were going off the map. Layla was working double-time to try and track them all, to figure out what they were trying to do. Miguel wanted to kill someone. Maybe it was Miles. Maybe it was Gwen, Hobie, Peter-any of the others that failed the multiverse. He didn’t want to kill Y/N, though. He wanted to pluck her up, feel her in his teeth, grip her arms so she could never leave. He wanted to rattle her like a toy before putting her in a box like a collectible. Something only he could touch, look at, play with. And he’d treat her well. He’d give her everything she could possibly want (within reason). She’d want for nothing. He’d even cover her world so she could retire from being Spider-Woman. So she could be safe.

Miguel couldn't understand it.

He thought about Y/N all day. All night. Every minute that air passed through his lungs was done with the intent of thinking about her. And he was so fucking mad because how did she not understand that? She ran, mindless, like some savanna animal as soon as he let the barrier down. He loved her, but god was she frustrating. He was being polite, and she completely disregarded it, tossed aside. She tossed him aside.

Y/N L/N did not love Miguel O'Hara.

And he hated that.  He'd be the first to admit that letting the barrier down was a stupid idea. For what physical strength he had over Y/N, she had speed. And at the end of the day, strength means nothing if you can't hit your target. That last hit Y/N had landed on him made Miguel crash into a banking tower, scrawling down the side like a cat. Damn not being able to stick to walls. He'd just about yanked out his claws trying to hang on. And the watch! He should've made Spider-Byte deactivate it before anything else!

There were a lot of things Miguel should've done in hindsight.

He found himself scrubbing every possible world he could, from 1 to 10,000. With the watch destroyed and Layla overwhelmed with trying to track everyone everywhere all at once, there was no way to directly trace Y/N. If she was truly smart, she would’ve input some random number and go somewhere absolutely random. But Miguel knew Y/N. He’d studied her. He knew how she thought. That meant she would go somewhere at least a bit familiar, where she was likely to have some form of an ally. There were a few places. Earth-7290 (obviously), Earth-1610-B, Earth-50101-B, Earth-616, Earth-65...she had her pick, cream of the crop. It became a matter of elimination. Earth-616, Earth-65, and Earth-50101-B, Hobie, Gwen, and Pav’s worlds respectively, were bottom contenders. She wouldn’t inherently drag her issues into the worlds of her ‘kids’. And for the record, Miguel began to hate all three. Gwen was weak and a liability, Pav was naïve, and Hobie caused trouble for the sheer delight of it. Y/N’s little spawn wouldn’t be spared.

Y/N staying on Earth-928, in Nueva York, didn’t make sense either. The chances of him finding her in his own home territory was high, and she knew that too. That left Earth-7290 and Earth-1610-B, each for their own reasons. Miles had gone to 1610-B, as far as anyone knew, though Miguel had a hunch otherwise. Spiders don’t just disappear off the face of the earth. And 7290 was Y/N’s personal playground. That was her home turf. So either she went chasing after Miles, or she went to lick her wounds in her own world. It was a matter of which was more likely. But Lyla quickly put an end to his overthinking. She appeared before him, the glittering honeycomb hologram with a head tilt. Curious, but not too curious. Teasing but not disobedient. Just the way Miguel made her to be.

“She’s in Earth-42, Miguel.”

Miguel felt sick with delight. Finding Y/N’s location was only a matter of time once Lyla tracked down where Miles was. If he found the anomaly, then he found his guardian angel. And maybe Y/N was too stubborn for her own good. But her faults were Miguel’s successes. Where she stumbled, Miguel would appear, ready to set her on her feet with a firm grip on her arms. His stomach was turning over in joy, like he was a kid about to go on a rollercoaster for the first time.

“Good job.”

Miguel didn’t waste any time, spinning around and setting his watch for Earth-42. But as he tapped, Lyla spoke up, flickering next to his head. “Want me to call for backup?” “What?” Miguel paused, glancing up as his mask set itself over his face. Something so natural, yet so false. “Why?” “For Miles? I mean,” Lyla snorted. “You couldn’t take him by yourself.”

And Miguel paused.

In his mind, he’d completely obliterated the idea of going after Miles. The anomaly. The whole reason this was happening in the first place. And somehow, his priorities had gotten so…skewed. He froze in place, blinking at his watch owlishly. Why? When? How? It felt strangely unfathomable. Miguel had spent so long going, going, going, running on fumes for worlds that didn’t even know he existed. He saw red when Miles tried to run, but it didn’t seem to panic him as much as Y/N running did. And maybe he wasn’t the same Miguel. Maybe he’d changed. That’s what all the old people would say; that love changes people. And Miguel wasn’t sure if he was alright with that. Deep within the recesses of his mind, some lucidity lingered. The fear of letting the multiverse down, of what could happen if he didn’t go after Miles. But…

Why shouldn’t he indulge?

He was Miguel O’Hara. Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time he received something that was even the slightest bit good in his life? A reward, for all that he’d done. All that he would do, all that will be. He’d been fighting for everything he loved since the day he was born, and now he was just fighting some more. The rest of the Spider Society could figure out Miles. Peter B. Parker could finally step up and fix the problem he made. Everyone else could pay penance by letting Miguel have this. This one thing, this one person, that made everything feel better. He’d done his fair share of sins. This would just be another that he would inevitably pay for. And for once, he didn’t mind that.

“No. I’ll go it alone.”

Lyla raised an eyebrow, but Miguel pretended not to notice. Pretended like what he was doing wasn’t going to endanger the entire multiverse. Like he hadn’t completely rewrapped his life’s duty in the span of a day. He knew he’d pay for it someday, when he died and he had to suffer for the worlds of hurt he made. But right now, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care as much as he should. He had happiness, right in front of him.

He would not fail a second time.

“Are you sure she can be trusted?” “Uh...yeah. Pretty sure.” “Pretty sure?” “...yeah. Yeah.”

Y/N’s head felt like it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Everything ached, though it wasn’t as bad as before. Her sight was hazy, soft purple and black hues warbling in her vision. Two heads loomed over her. One was poor Miles, bruised and battered with his suit torn on the shoulder. He looked equal parts fearful and concerned, making Y/N’s heart wilt. Did she really scare the boy so much? But she looked over, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Y/N had seen the Prowler before. She’d fought the Prowler before, even. The visor was a bit weirder, and his head was tilted in the same way Miles’ was. But the Prowler was crouched before Y/N, arms on his knees in a pose that seemed far more demeaning than Miles’ crouch. Y/N’s heart bungee jumped from her stomach to her throat, and immediately, she tried scrambling backwards. But the blooming pain in her stomach made her gasp, and she went limp again. A quiet groan left her mouth. She hated how laboured her breathing was, soft huffs leaving her lips. “Told you she’d panic.” The Prowler muttered. Miles just shot him a look. “Why’re you here?” Miles spoke quietly as the Prowler rose, adjusting his gauntlet. The unspoken threat was there. “I…” Y/N huffed out, letting out a choked sigh. She set her hand on her stomach, trying to think past the pain. Against every good reason, she sat herself up against the nearest metal wall. Only then did Y/N realise that the glass was gone, and she’d been bandaged. She’d been hurt so much that her arms and stomach made her look like a mummy, and some blood seeped through. But it was the thought that mattered. The Prowler and Miles stared at her, one seeming far more threatening than the other. “I came to find you. Which…sounds bad. But I want you to hear me out.”

Miles stayed silent. Y/N set her head against the wall.

“I defected. Miguel’s gone off the deep end, bad. It’s stupid enough that his paranoia was entertained for so long. He’s snapped. Nothing he says or does makes sense anymore. And I’m sorry that no one tried to help you, back then, back when you were alone. I’m sorry so many people helped him.” Y/N let out another small groan, shutting her eyes. The lights of the kitchen were too bright. “This…all this ‘pick a side’ B.S., that’s not how Spider-Man does it. I know that this is asking a lot. You’ve had your trust completely destroyed. But I want to make it up. I want to help you save your-oof!” At once, Miles suddenly wrapped himself around Y/N in a hug. Though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his tears beginning to soak the front of her suit. The sting of her wounds were sharp across her nerves, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Miles was willing to trust her. That meant more than anything. “Thank you,” Y/N whispered, putting her arms around the teenager’s shoulders. He held on a bit tighter, but Y/N couldn’t hold back her hiss of pain. Instantly, Miles pulled away, hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, sorry! Wasn’t thinking.” “No, you’re okay,” Y/N gave a shaky smile, before glancing at the Prowler. She pointed between the two with a shaky hand. “Wanna…talk about this?” “No.” The Prowler huffed. “Yeah!” Miles leapt up, gently punching the Prowler’s arm. “This is Miles, too! I mean, me, but like…not me?” “Your alternate you,” Y/N nodded, picking up what Miles was putting down. “Your variant.” “What the hell happened to secret identities?” The Prowler groaned, letting his visor undo itself to reveal, indeed, another Miles with braids. He seemed miffed, rolling his eyes. “What? She’s cool! She gets it!” “Whatever.” P. Miles (as differentiated in Y/N’s head) stalked to the other side of the room, and Y/N realised the space was half kitchen, half gym. “How’d you find me?” Y/N glanced at Miles, raising a curious eyebrow. “Saw the portal.” Miles sat up on the counter as P. Miles began tinkering with his gauntlet across the room. “Thought it was Gwen, or Miguel, or any of the others…but when we saw you, I figured after what you did, I owed you.” “Miles…” Y/N sighed. “You don’t owe me anything.” “You bought me time. That’s pretty debt-worthy.” “It’s called doing the right thing.” “And doing the right thing means not letting you bleed out.” Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to shove down the smile. Despite how little time passed since everything started, she missed the banter. She missed the spider-teens, missed how everything was before Miguel snapped. She missed when Gwen, Pav, and Hobie would crash in her apartment and they’d watch whatever shitty soap operas were on TV and Y/N felt like a cool big sister. Now, everyone was scattered to the four winds. She wasn’t even sure if she’d ever get something like that again.

“So you two need to get back.”

P. Miles made Y/N snap out of her thoughts, and both she and Miles looked to him. “Yeah. 1610-B. If we can get to an Alchemax collider, then we can find another world with a Spider, use their watch, and get Miles home before supper.” “Supper. Supper’s a weird word.” Miles hummed. “Yeah. It kinda is. Whatever. There’s an Alchemax two miles from here. I can lead the way. You just have to not be dead weight.” P. Miles nodded, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Dead weight.” Y/N looked down to her torso, sighing. The pain was already creeping back, the adrenaline leaving her system as quickly as it came. “Yeah, well…no promises.” P. Miles scanned her up and down with an almost distasteful eye, before looking back to Miles. An unspeakable connection was there for a fleeting moment, but P. Miles broke his eye and walked over to the window. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out.” Miles winced at his variant’s tone, letting out a sigh before gently helping Y/N up. Everything shook, her knees nobbling like an old man in a cartoon. But with one hand on Miles’ shoulder and the other gripping the kitchen island, she found her balance. Damn the pain. Damn the multiverse. And damn Miguel. She’d get Miles home and beat Miguel’s ass while at it, with or without all her vital organs. And as she teetered upright, she took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

Miguel couldn’t bring himself to truly appreciate New York.

Nueva York was better, in his opinion. New York was barbaric, premature. Meanwhile, Nueva York was bright and with a lot more green. Maybe it was biassed, but as Miguel tore through the fabric of time and space, the stink of the city made him clear his throat. “Miguel, they’re on their way to this Earth’s Alchemax.” Lyla appeared before him, acting as a HUD as he walked. “Seems like they’re trying to find their way out.” “Yeah, well…” Miguel peered over the city, popping his neck. Ordinarily, he might’ve said something a little witty, a little mean, but now his mind was dead-set on finding Y/N. So close. So far.

Finding Alchemax wasn’t hard. The bright white building was obvious, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the greyscale and dark skyscrapers. Even moreso, the fleeing workers evidenced that maybe there were several people inside who were dressed in suits and doing something a little less than normal. The doors were yanked off the hinges, there was some smoke coming out of the upper levels, and it’s a bit astounding that they even did that much damage so fast. He walked past the doors. Alchemax was always a sore spot for Miguel. Obvious reasons aside, it was always somewhere that Spider-Man suffered. And now, Miguel was suffering. He was always chasing after Y/N, and to have an ending battle at Alchemax felt like a cruel twist of fate. And he knew it’d be hard. He knew he blew away any chances of a proper relationship when he’d shoved Y/N through the window, went after the kids, tore aside the sides of buildings to get to her. But that didn’t matter when he knew they were meant to be together. Sometimes, doing what was right for all parties was the hard thing. And Miguel was used to that, and was ready for it. He’d been doing the hard thing all his life. This was one of the most important hard things, yes, all cards were off the table. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. He’d do whatever it took to get what he was denied, for so long.

When he turned a corner, there was a sudden spike of…something. It was like a ‘ting’ in his entire body, a vibration against his throat that spread. Maybe this was the closest thing he’d ever feel to a spider sense, with the way it made his neck twitchy and his shoulders tense. He took such a deep breath that his back popped, a flicker in his eyes. She was close. How close, he wasn’t sure. But close enough. Maybe it was her scent that set him off, or the sound of the collider booting up, but either way it was enough to make him shudder. This had never happened before, not even when he had her in the anomaly containment cell. It was more of a predator-prey impulse, thick and heady and hanging in the air. Miguel wanted Y/N’s hair in his hands, her neck between his teeth, her back against his chest. It was a base instinct that set Miguel’s nerves on fire. He pressed forward, finally coming to the collider door. The transparent glass made it clear that Y/N was already on guard, speaking to both Mileses. Her voice grew suddenly sharp, almost irritated, and both boys jumped. Miguel would refuse to admit to anyone just how her commanding tone made him stand stiff. And how sweetly the scent of her blood hung in the air! Better than any wine or sweet or divine treat. How could he have been so oblivious before? It wasn’t like he needed blood for food, or anything, but… Indulgence was his new favourite word. Miguel’s hand hovered over the doorknob. He knew if he didn’t manage to snag Y/N this time, she’d run off to Lord knows where and dance right out of Miguel’s reach until it was too late. Somewhere, in the back of Miguel’s mind, he knew this would’ve been made easier if he’d just brought backup. Then, Jessica or Ben could catch Miles while Miguel got Y/N. But then again, he’d have to explain why he was ready to full-body tackle and make out with someone who, two days prior, he was hardly able to share a room with. So maybe he’d just have to wing it.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The lab was quiet.

P. Miles apparently carried quite the potent fear factor. Civilians scattered when they saw him, leaving the collider open for use. Miles helped carry Y/N, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he slung across Alchemax. There was a terse feeling in the air. Y/N, half dead and feeling like the grave, knew somewhere along the line, something was going to happen. Life was never so easy as to just hand the three a perfectly functional collider. But P. Miles got to work booting the collider up, and as he stood off by himself, Y/N had a moment of reprieve. Y/N stood yet still, but she slumped against one of the monitors, pressing a hand to her bandages. They were soaked through, the throbbing pain inching back now that the second dose of adrenaline was dying down. Miles stood next to her, eyes switching from his variant to Y/N, back and forth, back and forth. It was almost dizzying to even watch. The collider was slow to start, and it was almost nerve wracking. The slow, bubbling light was bright, but it would take a few spare minutes that the three didn’t have.

P. Miles was off in a world of his own, but as Miles’s head bobbed back and forth between the two, Y/N gave an almost pained laugh.

“You’re gonna pull something if you keep that up,” She teased, taking a painfully deep breath before resting her hands behind her on the console. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.” Y/N watched him for a second. If it weren’t for the mask, then her frown would’ve been obvious. “It’s jarring, isn’t it?” She glanced back over to P. Miles. “Seeing a version of yourself.” “I mean, it would be for anyone, right?” Miles gave an awkward laugh. “Well…still. You’re taking it well.”  Y/N hummed. “Especially for being thrown into all of this so suddenly.” “Well, I-” And suddenly, the two froze. There was a distinct feeling creeping up Y/N’s spine. Her spider sense didn’t usually have a slow build, not like this, but every muscle was tense. It was like a violin sting, the bow crawling across every nerve at a snail’s pace. Miles went stiff next to her, uncrossing his arms and glancing over his shoulder. P. Miles gave the two a confused glance from the sudden shift. “He’s here,” Y/N tilted her head back, knocking against the monitor with a laboured breath. Miles helped her get up as P. Miles went on his metaphorical haunches, gauntlet up and mask on.  The room felt like it was spinning, a constant swirling camera angle around the three. Y/N set her hands on Miles’ shoulder. “You. Collider. Now. “ “Wh-?” Before Miles could finish, P. Miles started yanking him by the scruff towards the collider. The spider struggled against the Prowler’s grip. “Wait! No, we aren’t leaving you!” Miles looked almost irritated, as though the idea was genuinely disgusting to him. “Miles,” Y/N ignored her Miles, turning to the Prowler. “Get him through the collider at any cost.” P. Miles nodded firmly. He was a good soldier, but Miles broke out of his grip. “No! We can fight Miguel together. I mean, we’ve got me, and me but cooler! And you’ve been Spider-Woman for years-” “I’m injured, Miles.” Y/N’s tone took on an almost uncharacteristic stern note. “Dead weight. Miguel will be focused on me. My capture is inevitable. Yours doesn’t have to be.” Miles looked panicked, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “But what’ll happen to you? I’m not going to leave you behind. Spider-Man-” “Being Spider-Man is about sacrifice, Miles. And right now, this is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” The tension across Y/N’s nerved climbed to a fever pitch, and Y/N could see Miles’ face contort in fear. She knew what that look meant-Miguel was within Miles’ line of sight. Probably just past the door, tall and ominous. But Y/N shuffled in front of Miles to block Miguel off, to stop him from psyching out Miles, and to maintain eye contact. Her brows furrowed. “Miles-” “No.” Miles tired growing steely, trying to take the same commanding tone Y/N had. But Y/N felt everything spike. “Miles!” She snapped, louder than she meant to. “I am not going to bicker with you!”

Y/N’s voice was harsh, loud enough to echo a little bit. Angry, most certainly. Even P. Miles stoof stiff at rapt attention. “You have a choice,” Y/N pressed, despite the lingering guilt from the moment of fear on Miles’ face. “Me, or your father. And we all know what the answer is to that one.” The room was silent, save for the sound of the whirring collider. The lab door opened, and instantly, everything that was set off from Y/N’s spider sense went deathly silent. It was like her body was shutting down from fear and pain. Strong, almost silent steps drew closer, and Y/N let out a sigh. “Go, Miles. Be a better Spider-Man than the rest of us ever were.” Miles looked like he was forced to swallow hot coals. But with another tug from P. Miles, he began stumbling backwards. Y/N felt like there was still glass shards in her stomach, rolling around and cutting up her guts like a rock tumbler. Everything screamed for her to freeze, run, anything but what she was going to do.

But being Spider-Woman was all about sacrifices.

Y/N steeled her nerves and turned, a hateful glare scrawled across her face. Miguel was right behind her, breathing hard like he was huffing in the air she exhaled. If she took even the barest step forward, then she’d be buried into Miguel’s chest. Closer than she wanted to be. But even then, Y/N could smell mahogany and whiskey and sweat, something rich that seemed to be right up Miguel’s alley. He had his eyes glued to Y/N as though both Mileses weren’t right behind her, trying to clamber into the collider. Like she was the only thing in the world. It would be flattering, if the situation wasn’t so damn scary.

“Mi alma ♱ ,” Miguel whispered, reverent like Y/N was a god. “You were hard to track down.” “I fucking hope so.” She hissed, clicking her tongue. “I hope I gave Lyla a run for her money.” “Mm. That you did.” Miguel’s eyes flickered down a bit, taking in the sight of Y/N’s injuries. Slowly, he tried raising a finger up to touch at the bandages, but Y/N was quicker and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He didn’t so much as jolt, instead putting his eyes right back on Y/N’s face. “Don’t touch me.” “If anything, you’re the one touching me.” Miguel snarked, a grin beginning to sneak onto his face. The banter was clearly something he enjoyed, seeing Y/N as nothing but a defiant pet.   “And don’t get smart with me, asshole.” “All these rules…but as you wish, chiquita ♱ .” Y/N took a pissed-off breath, sucking on her teeth. But as she was about to say something back, there was the sudden feeling of webs around her waist. They hurt, but the immediate confusion triumphed over the pain. Who was webbing her? What was going on?

“Sorry, man! But I take care of my own!”

Miles’ sudden defiant yell made both older Spiders jump. Before Y/N could say anything, she was abruptly yanked back towards the collider. P. Miles laughed from the sudden vision of Y/N getting pulled back like a dog on a leash. But the small victory was minute, because Miguel’s face immediately contorted into rage. He bolted across the floor, reaching an arm out to web Miles’ arm. Miles’ web broke off, and for a moment, Y/N was in free-fall. But she could see Miguel’s brain working, the cogs working in a way they hadn’t in days. His eyes were on the kids, realising that while they were around, he’d never have Y/N freely. He’d always have to fight, and that meant the kids were in danger. That phrase played in Y/N’s head on loop. The kids were in danger. The kids were in danger. She had to swallow, recalibrate in mid-air.

Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. Being Spider-Man was sacrifice.

And in the midst of the free-fall, Y/N did the one thing she could think of to distract Miguel.

She reached out, and she kissed him.

The kiss was something she wished she’d never have to do. And she hated to admit just how nice it was. She could taste a balm on his lips, the faint taste of coffee. Soft. And she hated how it made her gut dissolve into butterflies, layered with atomic vomit. Bile pooled into her throat, but she could hear the collider shutting down, and she knew. It was over. One way or another, it was over.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement.

The kiss was by no means perfect. It was forceful, rushed, harsh, with Y/N’s nails digging into his shoulder to try and hang on. Her lips tasted of blood and were scabbed over from how often she bit them. Miguel could see Miles (both of them) in the corner of his eye. 1610 Miles struggled against his variant’s grip, being dragged into the collider against his will. But Miguel couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d fantasised about this moment for what felt like forever. How close she was. The smell of her sweat, the feel of her suit, her hands clutching his biceps. If this was Hell, then Miguel would willingly clip his wings to stay in Y/N’s arms.

Even in the freefall, Miguel found himself reaching out to cling at Y/N. She gasped from the clutch of his hands, and Miguel had to actively resist the urge to shove his tongue into her mouth like some unruly, horny teenager. For the first time in what was probably years, he had butterflies in his stomach. Love. Actual, true love. His eyes were wide, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was what blushing schoolgirls felt like. Giggling at the idea of their crushes looking their way, doodling hearts in their journals. That’s what Miguel felt like. A grown man, reduced to mush at a single kiss. It was ridiculous, humiliating…but it felt so good.

Miguel slammed into the floor of the collider room, all air sucked out of his body. For a brief moment, he simultaneously came to and was dazed. He realised both Miles were nowhere to be found, and Y/N had slammed into him. She let out a pained cry, pending over against the floor to clutch at her stomach. But as soon as her feet hit the ground and she wasn’t in immediate pain, Y/N pried herself away from Miguel like he’d burned her. And his heart ached. She was leaving him, and he’d be left with nothing but a wounded soul and back pain to return with. And the memory of that kiss. That kiss. It was devastating. Holy. No, Miguel wouldn’t let that go. He couldn’t. He knew he was gone, his mind lost somewhere between affection and obsession. Once his vision cleared and he saw Y/N stumbling to the collider, trying to climb up the walls without opening her wounds again, Miguel felt a certainty steel him. Y/N was going nowhere. Nowhere that he wouldn’t follow, that he wouldn’t tear apart trying to find her in. Miguel shot up, hands reaching out. A neon web came, and partially Miguel wondered if it had a soul of it’s own, an extension of his own desperation. It wrapped around Y/N’s waist, and she fell from the wall with a yelp. She slammed back down onto the floor and there was a sob. And Miguel didn’t want to hurt her. No, he never did. But he couldn’t let her run anymore.

He yanked Y/N towards him, groaning from the ache in his back before walking over to her. She was struggling in the web, arms bound as she flopped like a fish out of water. Her breathing was hard and angry, frustrated grunts ringing out in the collider room as the machine slowly started to wind down. She looked up at those chromatic spots, fear and exhaustion reading on her face in real time as her only escape shut in on itself. Miguel looked down at her, hands on his hips. And Miguel wanted to say something witty. Something like ‘I didn’t want to do this’ or ‘you did this to yourself’. But Y/N just seemed…defeated. Sad. Her eyes were to the floor, refusing to meet Miguel in any way. Just like before, her last way of keeping her pride was to deny Miguel. But she would deny him no more. And all Miguel could do was crouch down, gently rolling Y/N onto her back. There was a wheeze and Y/N shut her eyes. But Miguel could see tears welling, pooling down her cheeks with shame. And Miguel didn’t necessarily like making her cry. Something in the back of his mind told him he should be disgusted, ashamed of himself, beating himself up for making her cry. But she was so pretty. Stunning, even when she was crying and laying there, blood seeping into her suit. A gorgeous red that suited her like nothing else. How would she be in a red dress, ruby jewellery, red makeup. Even against the orange of his webs, she was beautiful. Oh, who was Miguel kidding? She’d look beautiful in anything. A goddess, bathed in the light of day and the stars of night.

Miguel put a hand against Y/N’s cheek, stroking it with his knuckles. She just sniffed, eyes still closed. Miguel’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and…what would be so wrong with it? She was the one that kissed him earlier. Whatever reasoning didn’t matter. If anything, it was his turn. A kiss for a kiss. And so, Miguel leaned down and pressed his lips to hers once more. And this time, despite her whimper, despite her recoil, Miguel felt this was a true kiss. Something earnest, of his own volition. It meant so much, completely overwhelming Miguel’s senses. He could even faintly taste the spearmint of Y/N’s toothpaste, this time. But he felt her flinch, and he pulled away just barely enough that his lips hovered over her. His breath washed over hers as he glanced up to her eyes. And this time, she was staring. Pure hatred was painted over her face, seething just under her skin, and Miguel sighed. “Do you really hate me that much?” He whispered. “More than anything,” Y/N hissed.

And Miguel sighed. Y/N was proud. He’d always loved that about her, but now it was just an issue. But it was nothing that time couldn’t fix. He gently, slowly, reverently picked up Y/N in his arms, like the bride she’d be one day. She squirmed, but her injuries left her immobile. A day of ignoring grievous injuries save for some faulty bandages meant she was left defenceless. And for once, Miguel was glad. Did he delight in her pain? No. Did he feel she deserved it? Maybe. But right now, she was in his arms and unable to run for the last time.

And that. That was Miguel’s reward.

♱ : my soul, honey 

╰･ ⨯・ ⨯・ @ishqani ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @pix-stuff ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @localdepressedvampire ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @cantchoosejust1 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @tired-writer04 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @neteyamsbulletwound  ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @not-neverland06 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @nervousd ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @whatsmylife 

[satrs]

Happily Ever After!

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; How they proposed to you!

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru. Fushiguro Toji.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 1.1k

TAGS; fluff, fluff, FLUFFFF!!! mention of marriage(obv). soft guysss.

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎ felt the need to write lovely-dovey stuff abt them sooo// part 2!?!?!?!

GOJO SATORU

You got used to Satoru's goofy persona, unable to predict what his mischievous mind would scheme next. You loved every last bit of his spontaneity, getting up every day in an impassable way, Satoru ready to jump in as you aid, leading the way to another exciting episode.

"Okay, so I've been thinking." "Ohhh, doesn't sound good." He looked at you, offended by your words. "Hey!" You chuckled at his child-like behavior, urging him to continue. "It's random but, I thought about your surname. And no offense," he stopped himself, finger pointing at his chin in thought, "Alright, a bit offense from my end - it doesn't suit you at all."

You raise your eyebrow, stopping in your tracks as you crane your head in his direction, "And what do you want me to do about that?" He ignored your sarcastic tone, snipping his fingers before pointing at you, smug smirk adoring his moisturized lips. "That's the spirit! You should change it! To mine, of course."

You stood there, dumbfounded, surprised by his sudden confession. Was this one of his jokes again? "So, you want to marry me?" He looked at you, excited glint in his eyes as he nodded eagerly, taking your hand back in hand ready to continue your walk.

"Wait, wait." You stop him, curious orbs falling on you. "You do know that's a blunt proposal right now? Without a ring or any of that movie stuff?"

He chuckled, walking right before you as he looked down at you, caressing your cheek with his hand, actions motivated by pure love and adoration.

"I could teleport anywhere in the world and buy the most precious and expensive ring you cloud dream of, baby." You were left speechless again, watching him turn around, whistling while continuing his path. "If you say yes, that is."

You giggle, hot on his trail, your hand interwinding with his. "Well then, yes. I would love to marry you, Satoru."

And behold, the white-haired sorcerer woke you up the next day, a bright smile stretching across his lips as he was in the middle of sliding a ring onto your finger.

And it was truly even more breathtaking than you ever imagined it to be.

GETO SUGURU

He was 100% sure and ready for this. He planned every last bit of this thoroughly and was ready to call you up and tell you where to meet him-

"There you are! Knew you would be here." He froze, color drained from his features as he looked at you as if you were a ghost. "How did you-"

His eyes widened as you walked up to him, holding up what seemed to be a checklist - oh, shit.

"To-do list for Y/N's proposal", you read out loud, going on. "Head to her favorite place and set everything up. Decoration," you looked around the place, nodding in approval as you did a 'tick' motion with your finger. "Check." He must've forgotten the list on the dining table. Unlucky wretch.

You scanned over the list, almost bursting out in laughter at the face the black-haired man was making. "Everything is done. But there is one thing missing."

Your gaze lifted up to meet his eyes, only to notice him kneeling down, propping up a casket that contained one eye candy of a ring, a sigh of defeat leaving him. "Yeah, yeah. The main event."

Your once playful facade threatened to crumble as you felt the corner of your eyes sting at his words. "So, my darling detective, will you marry me?"

Unable to speak, too scared your voice would crack so you simply nod, forming the word 'yes' with your mouth, and as he put the ring on your finger, the waterfall was already running. "Well, didn't write this down to happen but, 'check' I guess." You laugh between tears at his joke, earning a snicker in return. "Oh, shut up."

Your teary eyes look up at him and he puts his hand on your cheek, wiping your vision clear with his thumb before placing a soft kiss on your nose, lips resting on yours right after before whispering his following words against them.

"So, do you want to know what's on the list next or not?" This caught your attention, lifting your hand up to your face and admiring the ring for a moment, smiling to yourself before averting your gaze to the list.

"A picnic?" Your gasp made him chuckle. "Yup. Figured you're reaction would be to die for." He took your hand in his to lead you to the scenery he laid out, your tears threatening to flow again at his effort.

"Urgh, my mascara is all smugged because of you now", you groan playfully, taking his face in your hold to capture his lips, feeling his smile against your lips. "You're welcome."

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Toji had to think about this really well and be completely ready for this big step himself. Since he was already married once, which ended in a divorce, he thought that marriage just wasn't meant for someone like him until he met you.

The both of you lay in bed, cuddling and talking about nothing and everything at the same time. It was when Toji looked up at you from his position on top of you, head lifting from your neck as his orbs examined your face that your giggle soon fell dead.

"Hm?" The cute expression you offered him made him lightly chuckle. "I don't know, maybe it's too early." You flashed him a confused look, eyebrow raising as you carefully sneaked out of his hold, sitting up on the bed to listen to him continue. "Too early for what?"

You grew impatient with every laugh he choked out, arms crossing over your chest. "Toji."

Shit- he was nervous. There is no doubt he was a confident man but, this was different. His first marriage wasn’t successful, and he’s scared that this might also go downhill. But there is no way, right?

“Tojiiii.” Alright, fuck it. He snickered, turning around to reach over for the nightstand as you try to peek over his shoulder, curious about what he is searching for on the shelf.

Your whining fell deaf, eyes widened with an unreadable expression on your face, almost making him regret his intention. “So…?” He managed to choke out, clearing his throat right after, awaiting your answer.

It was his turn to be surprised as tears rolled down your face, bright smile on your lips as you hug him, almost squeezing the life out of him.

“Is that a no?” He covered his troubles with a nervous laugh, chuckle growing in confidence after you answer.

“Yes! I mean, no.” You slapped his shoulder playfully at his raised eyebrow, "You know what I mean", a worried expression on your face once you notice the ring almost falling from his hand.

“Careful now. Worked my ass off for this bling. Now gimme your hand, gorgeous. You know how it goes.”

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[thelaughtercafe]

Matters of the Heart

Tea Type: Milk Tea

Potential Triggers: Brief mentions of intentional verbal abuse, and a raised hand though no contact is made. A carriage accident takes place. Ciel is 21 at the start of this fic and ages as it continues!

Pairing: Ciel Phantomhive/F! Reader

Length: 1.1k+

Summary: This is an AU where the demon contract never happened, so Ciel simply grew up without his parents; cynical and detached from the world. He'd already chased Lizzie away long ago, and he intended to do the same to you. This was how it was meant to be. What he deserved.

His parents’ death had changed him. Everyone expected that, to some extent. But what they didn’t expect was the way Ciel grew cold and distant.

He shut down entirely; let no-one in. His engagement was called off with Lizzie after a few years of cruel words. He was always especially cruel to her.

She deserved someone better than a broken man such as him.

She was happily married now.

He had not attended, merely sending reassurance the Phantomhive name would continue their working relationship and support her and her family in whatever endeavors they needed.

What he didn’t expect to have to do…was be thrown into another engagement when he turned 21.

You were…different from Lizzie that way for sure. His cruelty didn’t make you burst into tears. Nor did you even flinch when he raised a hand to you. He never would’ve gone through with it, but most women fled with the fear of abuse.

You lived mirror existences as the date grew ever closer and one day when he was in a particularly sour mood…he snapped when you brought him tea.

“Why are you still here? Are you some kind of masochist, foolish girl!? I have done nothing but treat you badly and yet you refuse to leave and shower me in kindness I am not worthy of!”

Your smile dropped a moment and then it widened despite the sadness within it.

“…I stay for two reasons, Mr. Phantomhive. One, grief is a powerful emotion. One that can and will consume every part of your being like the vilest of diseases if you allow it to. You wish to never let anyone close. To never allow your heart to feel love again for fear of having that love turn to the agony of loss and grief. I am a patient woman. And I know this anger you show, this cruelty and bluster…is merely a facade. A mask you wear so you may feel safer with me at a distance. I have already been through my cycles of grief and decided I will allow my heart to love again, despite the pain that might ensue. But I can not make you do the same. You will come to your own conclusion when and if you are ready to.”

Ciel was…in shock. You’d never spoken this much, all but locking yourself away in the library and only offering him gentle kindnesses expected of a wife such as bringing him lunch when he forgot to eat and the like.

All he could say was.

“And the second?”

Your smile widened.

“Just as grief is powerful, so too is unflinching kindness and empathy.”

You turned on your heel and began to leave but paused at the door, voice lightly teasing.

“Thank you for the new shipment of books, Mr. Phantomhive.”

You slipped out to the sound of him shouting after you that it was only to keep you far away from him, but you knew if you looked back he’d be blushing.

He did not change all at once. Of course he didn’t. You did not expect him to.

There were still full days of silence. Full weeks even. There were days where he reminded you of a wounded animal, lashing out at every little thing in fear of how you may harm him.

But something quite miraculous happened when you had to meet with your parents, about 3 months after your explanation and a month before the wedding.

As you entered your parents’ estate, Ciel initiated physical contact, putting a hesitant barely-there arm around your waist. When he caught your shocked gaze and the blush on your cheeks he flushed himself and yet did not release you.

“…Don’t get any ideas women. It’s just to keep up appearances around my soon-to-be family-in-law. A mere formality.”

You beamed and quickly looked to the side to blink the burning in your eyes away.

He was healing, whether he realized it yet or not. Not only had he not cared for formality before.

That was also the first time he’d called your parents family.

The meeting went well, your mother gushing over how close you seemed to be and your father happy Ciel was well-versed in business and could keep up with him.

The drive home was not silent, but instead, Ciel led the conversation, talking about your parents and how ecstatic they were.

You were wed before he was fully finished healing but you weren’t worried. He had started and that was enough for you.

It happened rather suddenly. You’d both been out shopping, getting clothes and furniture and all sorts of things now that you would be moving in “so you couldn’t complain later”.

As you were crossing the street, a carriage came careening down it much too fast. Too fast for you to act.

Your husband did, pushing you out of the way with a cry of your name.

The ensuing crash was deafening but you cared not for anything save your husband, frantically kneeling over his body and sobbing as you heard people rushing to get medical attention and the police.

They showed up quickly once they heard the Phantomhive name. They tried to insist on you returning home to wait but you refused to be separated from your husband.

The ensuing days were…tough, to put it lightly. You cried enough tears to fill a lake at his bedside as you waited for him to wake. Your parents were out of the country on business so you were all alone.

The doctor had said he’d done all he could and it was up to Ciel if he lived or not.

You tightly held his hand and spoke to him.

“Please, don’t leave me. I know you must be ecstatic at the chance to see your parents again but I need you here Ciel. Please. We have such long lives ahead of us. I beg of you, don’t make a widow of me. I-I love you.”

You lowered your head to sob into the hands holding his and were startled at the feeling of someone rubbing your head before his familiar voice filled your ears.

“…You finally said it. You’ve been holding in your feelings all this time while I acted as the pinnacle of immaturity in a vain attempt to push you away.”

His blue eyes shone with remorse and genuine care.

“Will you forgive me, my love?”

You nodded breathlessly as you laughed and hugged him tightly.

He chuckled as you pulled away.

“I never want to lose anyone I care about again. And so I will fight to protect all that I do. I hope you will do the same for me.”

You laughed.

“Till death do us part, Ciel, I will ever remain at your side.”

He flushed and looked away with a huff, reaching out expectantly and smirking just slightly as you held his hand, though he pretended to be stoic as ever, clearing his throat.

“Yes, well, see to it you do.”

[albertasunrise]

Look for the Light - Part 8

Masterlist

Summary: Four years ago, Joel saved you from certain death. In return, you followed him faithfully. Always ready to do and give him whatever he asked, despite the hurt it inflicted on you, body and soul. Agreeing to go with him to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies… this would be the last time you’d follow him… After this, your debt would be paid.

Relationships: Reader x Joel Miller, Joel Miller & Ellie, Reader & Ellie

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. 18+ (Sorry this took a while... Been all over the shop with work so little to no time to write... Shit's hitting the fan folks! Enjoy!!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

You burst through the hospital doors in time to witness Tommy pleading with the doctor to give Joel the medicine he so desperately needed. Since you'd seen the older Miller last, violent shivering had taken up residency permanently. However, what surprised you more was the fact that he was conscious again. His brown eyes peeked through slits as he turned his head to look at you, a weak hand lifting ever so slightly as if attempting to reach for you. 

"The supply party are dead." You announced as you moved closer to the commotion. 

"I am aware." The doctor replied grimly, his eyes flitting between you and Tommy "I'm sorry but with our chance at replenishing our stores now up in smoke, I cannot risk using the last of the antibiotics we have. Not until more can be found." 

"Look at him!" Tommy yelled as he pointed at his brother. 

Your eyes followed the doctors and you choked on a sob at the sight that greeted you. His body seemed to levitate from how violently he shook. You knew he was running out of time and fast now. That medicine was his last hope. 

You heard your name fall from Joel's lips and you practically sprinted to his side, grabbing his hand and holding it firmly against your chest. Giving the man a weak smile, you started to stroke back the sweat-slick hair that was stuck to be brow and prayed that the motion would bring him some small quantity of comfort. 

"I-mm-mm s-s-so-rrr-y." He stuttered through chattering teeth, his eyes widening a little so he could look at you better.

"Shhh." You hushed him "Save your strength, Miller." 

"Mm-mm d-dd-dy-y-ing." He said and you simply shook your head at him. 

"No, you're not Miller!" You said with what you hoped was a convincing tone "You're going to make it. You hear me?!" You continued as you cupped his flushed cheek "You and I have some unfinished business to attend to." 

This statement made Joel chuckle a little. His eyes almost sparkled as he gazed at you with what you could have sworn was love. It made your heart race to think that this man loved you. That he felt even a little bit more for you than just two people who warmed each other's beds. 

"You're going to get better and then we are going to settle down in that house that Tommy gave us." You said softly as you returned to stroking his hair. 

"Mmm." He hummed, closing his eyes and smiling as he thought about your statement for a moment. 

"We'll raise Ellie together. We'll cook together. We'll find a guitar and you can play and sing to me whilst I read all the books in that house." 

"S-s-sing t-to th-the baby." He said almost wistfully and your head shot back. 

"Joel... we lost the baby." 

Joel's expression grew sad. His eyes remained closed as he silently wept, tears falling from the corners of his eyes as he started to shake again. It had seemed that the small fantasy you had given him had called him for a moment. Taken away a little bit of his suffering. 

Then you'd gone and unconsciously ripped that away from him. 

"I WANT TO SEE HIM." Someone yelled and you looked up to see Ellie trying to wrestle her way past Tommy. 

"Tommy, let her through." 

"No kid should have to witness this!" Tommy argued, his eyes matching the same sad expression you'd seen from Joel just a moment ago. 

"Fuck you." Ellie growled before shoving the man off of her and jogging to Joel's side "Why's he shaking?" 

"Infection's in the blood." You sighed, eyes drifting to Tommy a moment before returning to her "He needs more antibiotics." 

"So give him some!" 

"It's not that simple." You sighed "They are almost out and they can't risk using the last of it up." 

"To save a man's life?" Ellie scoffed "This is Maria's doing isn't it?" She asked accusingly as she turned her head to look between the doctor and Tommy "She doesn't like him. So she's letting him die." 

"It was a joint decision." The doctor piped up "We cannot put the life of one man ahead of everyone else here." 

'You mean his life?" Ellie scoffed "If it was anyone else, you wouldn't hesitate to save them but because it's Joel Miller... The man Maria has painted to be a soulless murderer to everyone here... You can't do it." 

"Ellie-" 

"Save it." She growled, stopping Tommy dead in his tracks "I wanna stay here and help take care of him." She stated plainly, leaving little room to argue "He should know that someone cares about him..." She trailed off as she turned her attention back to Joel. 

You gauped at her a moment before looking over at the doctor who was standing there, staring at the girl with a guilt-ridden expression. You smiled to yourself at the knowledge that the words of this 14-year-old girl had gotten to him. You just hoped she'd said enough to sway the council. 

...

Heading back to the house to catch a shower, you couldn't help but overhear the shouting that was coming from inside the house that Maria and Tommy shared. You knew it was rude to eavesdrop but you couldn't help yourself as you quietly crept towards their door and listened in. 

"HE'S DYING MARIA!"  Tommy yelled, his anguish clear in the tone of his "He's the only family I got left!" 

"What about me and the baby?" Maria scoffed "Are we not your family too?" 

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Tommy growled "The day of the outbreak took both my parents and my niece. Joel and I had to stick together and sure... we made some shitty decisions and we killed innocent people but we did what we did to survive!" 

"You did what you did because Joel told you to do it!" Maria growled and you could hear Tommy scoffing loudly. 

"Believe it or not sweetheart but I have a mind of my own..." You let out a stuttered breath as you waited for Tommy to continue, you could practically hear them both panting in anger and frustration "It wasn't just down to Joel. I made calls I wasn't proud of but I did them to protect my brother." 

"Tommy-" 

"You know the day after outbreak day... He tried to fucking kill himself." This statement made you gasp. 

Your hand clapped over your mouth as you attempted to hide the surprised sound that escaped you. Joel had never told you that. He had barely mentioned Sarah to you. 

"I found him laying on the ground in an alley with a bullet wound on the side of his fucking head... He couldn't see a way to live because his daughter was gone. He'd rather die than live without her." 

Your eyes welled with fresh tears and you thought about what you had just heard. The scar on Joel's temple. The man who shot and missed. It had been him all along. He had shot and he had missed and he had to live with that knowledge and pain every day. It explained a lot really. 

"I think we are getting a little off-topic." Came a new voice and you were startled at hearing the doctor's voice join the conversation "We need to decide whether we are willing to risk using the last of the antibiotics to save this man. I, personally, think we should." 

So Ellie's statement did hit a nerve. 

"I understand that as a medical man, you struggle to make tough decisions like this but until we can be sure that we are able to replenish our stocks. I can't allow it." 

"Maria-"

"I'm sorry Tommy but I just can't say yes to that." 

Your attention was pulled away from the conversation inside and to Ellie who was screaming your and Tommy's name as she sprinted down the dimly lit street towards the houses. 

"Ellie, what's wrong?" You said as you grabbed the teenager's shoulders and attempted to steady her as she cried "What's happened?" 

"He keeps shaking." She sobbed and your heart broke "He had a fit... and then another like immediately fucking afterwards and that doctor wasn't there. Just some nurse." 

"What's going on?" Maria asked as she, Tommy and the doctor aforementioned stepped out of the house and onto the street.

"What's happened is that Joel's got worse." You growled, unable to look at the woman. 

"What d'ya mean" Tommy questioned. 

"He's having back-to-back fucking fits Tommy because your fucking wife wants him dead." Ellie practically screamed, her tears streaming down her cheeks "He's gonna fucking die." 

"Come on." You said as you pulled her close in an attempt to soothe her but she was having none of it. 

"We need to go back." She choked "We need to go back and sit with him so he's not alone." 

"Ellie-"

"He shouldn't die alone." His statement hit you like a sack of bricks. Knocking the wind from your lungs. 

Tommy and the doctor were already heading back to the hospital and you found yourself unconsciously following them with your arm wrapped protectively around Ellie. When you entered the hospital, you were greeted by Joel's bed, surrounded by nurses. 

"What's happening?" You sobbed as you pushed your way to his side. 

"He's struggling to breathe." One of the women answered, "His seizures have stopped but he's barely hanging on now." 

Your eyes drifted to Joel whose lips had taken on a startling shade of blue. His chest was barely moving and you knew that he didn't have long now. 

Were they too late? 

"I'm getting the oxygen." Stated the doctor as he disappeared from view and into the back room. 

Suddenly Joel's body went rigid again and his body convulsed so violently you were sure his spine would snap. The doctor reappeared a few moments later with a rather battered-looking oxygen tank and a mask that he fought to strap over the fitting man's face. 

The fit ended as abruptly as it started. The doctor then started to inspect Joel and you all waited on bated breath for him to say something. Anything. 

"He's not breathing." 

Anything but that. 

You watched in horror as the bed was lowered and the pillows pulled from beneath Joel's head. The doctor then started compressions and both you and Ellie cried without a care to who might see or hear. This was your worst nightmare coming to fruition. 

"If he dies... it's on you." Tommy growled at his wife before he pulled you and Ellie into his arms and held you close. 

"He's breathing." Announced one of the nurses and you felt your knees give way. 

"CAN YOU MAKE THE CHOICE NOW?" Tommy yelled, his face red as he glared at his wife. 

Maria stood there in shocked silence for a while before her eyes then drifted to the doctor who was working diligently to keep Joel breathing. She dared look at you and Ellie who were hugging each other on the floor, opening sobbing as the weight of Joel's situation threatened to drown the two of you. 

"Give him the medicine." She stated, not tearing her eyes away from you and the young girl you'd come to look at as your own "Whatever we have. Give it to him." 

Both you and Tommy looked up at her in shock. Her eyes flitted between the two of you as her face morphed into one of shame and guilt. 

"I'm sorry." She said simply and you both knew exactly what she meant "I'm so sorry." 

You watched as Joel slept soundly. 

His fever had broken 3 days ago and the shaking had ceased an hour or so after that, you and Ellie hadn't left his side in the two days that followed Maria giving the go-ahead. It had still been touch and go. The infection had spread to the point where his chances had been slim even with the medicine but you and she had sat at his side and had talked to him. Kept him grounded you hoped. 

On the morning of day three, however, Ellie had been dragged to the school. There had been kicking and screaming but when you had told her that you would fetch her if anything changed. She left a little more willingly then. Now for two days, you had sat at his side. Talking to him. Reading to him and bathing him in the hope that he would open his eyes. 

The doctor had assured you that he was doing well. That the infection was clearing out and that with time and rest, he should make a full recovery. 

"Come on Miller." You said as you cleaned his brow with a damp cloth "You need to wake up now." 

Nothing. 

"You know... Don't think that just because you almost died and shit that I'm not still mad at you." You chuckled "We still have some shit to work through... But I wanna work through it." 

Still, you received no response and you let out a long sigh as you dropped down into your seat again. 

"I've been thinking about what they would have been like." You said after a short pause "The baby." You clarified "I think they would have been the spitting image of you... let's face it you got all the best features." You chuckled to yourself. 

Your hand took his again as you allowed a few stray tears to fall. 

"I keep imagining this sweet little boy with your eyes and hair." You paused a moment to wipe your tears with your sleeve "Maybe my cheekbones but mostly he'd get his looks from you. A little mini Joel Miller running around." 

"Heaven forbid." Choked a quiet voice and you looked up to see Joel weakly smiling at you. His head turned to the side. 

"Joel?" You squeaked as you got to your feet "You with me?" 

He nodded and you sobbed as you cupped his cheek and kissed him. Humming when he returned the kiss with as much passion as he could muster in his weakened state. 

"You fucking scared me." 

"Sorry." He mumbled, smiling when you kissed him again before sitting back down again "I imagined a girl." He piped up after a short pause. 

"Hmm?" 

"The baby." You replied, "I imagined it was a girl." He said with a wistful smile "A small version of you and me. My hair and eyes I guess but your nose and lips and smile." 

"She would have been damn fuckin' cute!" You chuckled and he smiled back at you. 

"Yeah... she would have been." He replied, before feeling his lids start to droop. 

"Rest up Miller. I'm gonna fetch the doc." 

You were drying the last dish when you felt two strong arms circle your waist and pull you against a firm body. You hummed at the feeling of his lips on your neck and let your head fall to the side to give him better access. 

"Where's Ellie?" You asked when one of Joel's hands started to wander. 

"At Dina's." He purred as he took your earlobe between his teeth, his other hand slipping past the waistband of the leggings you wore. 

The first few weeks after Joel had left the hospital had been tough. He had been weak. Struggling to do much for himself and so it had taken him a while to get used to you and Ellie helping him. There had been the odd spat here and there but he had soon learned to appreciate the help he was given. 

Now, one month on he was doing better. He still wasn't quite 100 per cent but he was getting stronger and stronger with each day that passed. And the stronger he felt, the bolder he became. Yet, you two still hadn't really discussed what you two were to each other. You hadn't discussed the fantasy that you'd fed him on his deathbed. 

None of it. 

But as of that moment. You didn't really care that you hadn't discussed it... Because all of this... This Domesticity that had developed organically between the two of you felt so right. So you let his hand slip down to cup your sex and you let him kiss your neck as he told you how sexy you look. You gasped when he spun you on the spot, lips parted as your eyes locked on his and shivered at his intense gaze. The two of you just stood there a moment, breathing each other in before his lips crushed against yours in a kiss so passionate it made your toes curl. 

You grinned against his lips as you felt him push down your leggings before he was then lifting you so you were sitting on the counter beside the sink, slotting himself between your parted legs as he continued to kiss you. Your moans grew filthy as he ripped your remaining clothing off and you did your best to remove his. There was no foreplay. You both needed each other desperately and you gasped in unison when he sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust of his hips. 

"Fuck Joel." You whimpered as he started a brutal pace from the onset, your nails digging into the muscles on his back as he fucked you senseless. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered between kisses.

"Joel-"

"For everything." He interrupted, kissing you hard as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer "For all of it." 

"Joel I-"

"I love you." 

You choked on a sob at his confession. Kissing him hard when he looked like was about to panic and that spurred him on. His thrusts became more focused when his length started to pound against your sweet spot, pulling the filthiest sounds from your lips. 

"Fuck I love you, baby." He growled as he started to feel you flutter around him, his free hand then slipping between you so he could rub your clit. 

"Fuck... Joel, I'm... I'm... Fuck I'm cumming." You shrieked before your core started to pulse around him, gripping him hard. 

"Fuck!" He moan as he fucked you through your high. His following shortly after when he buried his length as deep as he could and hide his face him your neck as he allowed himself to revel in the feeling of being inside you again. 

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, just allowing the pleasure you'd both experienced to saturate everything but it hadn't skipped your notice that Joel had come inside of you. 

Had he meant to?

"Joel." You whispered and he knew exactly what you were going to ask him. 

"I know baby." He muttered as he pulled his head back so he could kiss you languidly "I want this with you." He assured you between kisses "I want it all with you." 

You couldn't have stopped the smile that spread across your face even if you had tried. 

He wanted you. 

And that's all that mattered. 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: after a case involving an old childhood bully, you began to question everything you've ever worked for, but that's nothing a little reassurance from the good doctor can't fix.

― warnings: oral sex (fem rec.), vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, head in the jet bathrooms (lord), spencer has long hair, man ponytail spence, quiet "sex." hurt/comfort, mentions of kidnapping, murder, violence, bullying, hostage situations, and weapons.

― wc: 2403

⋆ a/n: this is the first ever fanfiction i wrote and uploaded to ao3. i don't know why i made it so long lmfao. yeah, i googled the term whiplash, sue me. this has already been posted to ao3.

masterlist | AO3

You wish what you wanted wasn't inappropriate. That it didn't totally go against everything that you stood for as a person. Morally, you were always correct, but in this certain situation, the lines began to get blurred between your self-control and your burning desire for the genius on your team.

Your body bursts into flames whenever you saw him; when he had his glasses perched onto his nose, a file in his hand as his long and delicate fingers skimmed over the words, lighting grazing them. Even when the others thought his constant spewing of facts were annoying, you actually found it endearing, and quite the turn on. It was embarrassing really, how this man could simply just exist and you were ready to jump his bones.

Of course you doubted that he had held any sort of attraction for you. He's probably the most oblivious person you've ever met dispite his IQ of 187.

It was another case that was just as exhausting as the other, and not only that, it took place in your hometown. What made it worse was that you actually knew the person that was the murderer, which made you vital to the case. You could sense that everyone besides the team was side eyeing you, and you couldn't help but feel like an outcast. You were frustrated and tense, wanting nothing more than to have sleep swallow you whole.

The jet was quiet, almost everyone still asleep as you counted the stars in the dark sky that you could see from your window. The whole situation was overwhelming, no matter how many sympathetic words and tight hugs you had received, you were still bothered to no end. Eric was a part of your close friend group in highschool, but after a falling out, you were the only one that left. You had no idea that he and the others stayed close until you were called down to solve a double homicide and stalking situation.

You figured out that he still harbored feelings for your long time friend, Stacy. Of course as fate would have it —and highschool cliches— she got with the jock of your friend group, Ryan. They got married, but Eric was still as jealous and bitter as he was when he was seventeen. He chose to kill the couple and be on his way to kill the others that were left. You couldn't help but think about what if you were still friends with them, would he be after you too? You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, throwing the blanket that you had draped over you onto it as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you had gotten inside, you shut the door behind you, pressing your hands onto the cool counter in an attempt to ground yourself. You stared into the mirror to take in your disheveled form.

You watched as your highschool self formed right in front of your very eyes; your frizzy hair, pimpled face and braced teeth had all of a sudden reappeared, like a dream like fog. You still looked as tired as you did then, your eyes clouding with tears. Not only were you devastated about your old friends deaths, but it was also what Eric had said when he held another friend, Amanda, at gun point.

"Just because you got a fancy badge and gun doesn't mean you're still not the same brace face that nobody wanted."

You were embarrassed in front of your team, the media, as well as the other police officers at the scene.

As Eric was brought down to his knees and handcuffed, he walked past your glaring gaze with a smirk. You could've sworn that your finger that was pressed against the trigger twitched. You were the first one to have left, your skin burning in shame and your gut twisting in the most painful way possible. It hurt really, and now the after effects were sticking to you like glue. As if the insults that you get for being a bigger FBI was enough as it is, this was just the icing on the cake. You had worked so hard to move on from your past, but alas, it would always seem to find you.

Tears dripped down your face as a silent sob ripped through you. You just wanted to disappear. As your self wallowing continued, the bathroom door was opened scaring you and the person on the other side.

"Sorry!" Spencer squeaked, closing the door back up. "It's fine," You chuckled, "I wasn't doing anything anyway." You wiped your tears hastily before the man re-entered.

His faced quickly crumpled in concern, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your saddened facial features. "Why are you crying?" You waved your hand in an attempt to dismiss his question. He hesitated before speaking."Is this— is this about what happened earlier?" You let out a sigh. "Shut the door." And he did, closing it quietly behind him as he looked at you worriedly.

"It wasn't about the "brace face" comment. It was the fact that I had allowed myself to let him make me feel small. I worked so hard to get where I am, and it was like one word from him and all of it just came crumbling down." You ranted, tears threatening to come down once more.

In all of your years as an FBI agent, you had learned to not let such crude words get to you knowing that it was a part of your job that wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Everyone on your team has heard their fair share of insults from bitter UnSubs, and they're always just ignored and not thought twice about until it included someone close to them.

"You know that everything he said wasn't true, right?" Spencer asked, his tone soft and reassuring. Even though he phrased it like a question, it was more like he was telling you, causing your stomach to twist around with butterflies. "I know, I just—" You groaned, your back against the counter where the sink was at, your face held in your hands. You felt him step in front of you, soft but skinny hands placing themselves on your wrist to stop them from covering your face.

"If it's it uh—" He cleared his throat, "If it's any consolation, I think you're absolutely gorgeous." He said bravely, his voice holding unforseen confidence. You blinked rapidly, swallowing your spit nervously as he leaned closer to you. You could see it in his eyes that he was afraid that he read the room wrong, but you didn't hesitate, grabbing him by his orange tie and pulling him closer against you.

He was now gripping the counter, his head tilted to the side as his lips barely brushed again yours.

"You mean it?" You asked, staring up at him. It was his turn to be rendered speechless, but he nodded his head. You smiled sweetly, raising a hand up to tuck some of his long hair behind his ear. He trembled slightly at your touch, the skin of his ears and the back of his neck flushing a deep red. You held him in a strong gaze as you made your demand.

"Lock the door."

All he had to do was lean over and the locked snapped, signaling that you were both now in here together. You locked your fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss, Spencer cradling your face. He was an excellent kisser even though he was slightly hesitant, being a gentleman as always. His hands were respectful even though you can tell they wanted to explore more of your curvaceous body that were filled in all the right places.

You took his hands off of your face and placed them on your ass, your hands giving him an encouraging squeeze around the fat. He groaned in surprise, but opting to throw all caution to the wind once you had took the initiative to show him that it was okay. Your threaded your digits through his luscious locks until he bent downward a bit, his lips separating from yours for only a split second to haul you onto the marble. You let out a quiet squeak that he only chuckled at.

He kissed down your neck, hands touching all over you until they reached your spread thighs, opening them wider so he could step in between them. He wrapped them around his tiny waist, his lips continuing their assault.

"Spence. . ." You breathed. "Yeah?" He mumbled, lips kissing down to your breast. His voice was muffled by the fabric of your shirt but he was still alert. "Are you sure you want to do this here?" You asked. With the way his needy hands were going and the fact that the belt on your dress pants were undone , it was looking like he was about to finger you at the least. He looked up at you, holding your face in his hands again.

"I want to show you how beautiful you are to me, but if you'd rather wait, maybe until I take you on a date—" You cut off his rambling with a peck, "No need, just make sure to be quiet." You winked at him. He smiled sheepishly shrugging off his grey vest before falling to his knees so that he was faced with your clothed crotch. Your body was keening at the sight of the tall man in front of you, the supposed genius now reduced to nothing more than a mouth. It was hot how he looked at you with so much admiration, like you were his goddess to worship.

You stared down at him, running your fingers through his long hair, biting your lip.

"Can you—" He gulped. "Can you please lift your hips?" His shaky fingers were tucked into the band of your pants, pupils blown out and and pleading. You did as he asked to make the process of him stripping you of your lower half easier. You were now bare and open to him, legs spread with your glistening sex clenching around nothing. He gulped at the sight of your drenched cunt, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before leaned forward, his tongue licking a bold stripe up your folds that caused you to bite your lip.

"Wait." You paused. "What?" He asked, his voice gravelly as he watched you reach up into your hair to pull out your hair tie. Even though your locks fell around your face, you gestured for him to lean up a bit. "C'mere," You beckoned. You then went around his head, collecting his hair gently before tying it back so that none of it got in his way.

"There you go." You said, sounding pleased with yourself. "Thank you." He blushed. His gratitude was short lived as he leaned forward once more, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders so that he was suffocated by your large thighs. You held onto his ponytail, trying your best not to tug on the thing too hard. As he suckled on your clit, he watched as you slapped a hand over your mouth, harsh breaths coming out of you as your legs tightened around his head.

Your chest was heaving as Spencer's nails dug into the skin of your thighs in an attempt to keep himself grounded. You were barely holding on, his inexperienced tongue searching desperately to see what you liked, what got you off, his dough eye's peering up at you to study your reactions. He mentally took notes of what made you twitch and gasp, what made you tremble and tighten as your hand clamped harder around your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself from being too loud.

You almost screamed when one of his fingers joined his attack, his middle finger curling against the spongy padding of your g-spot. You began to shake, your juices dripping down his chin, almost soaking the collar of his dress shirt as he brought you closer to a mind blowing orgasm. It didn't take long for you to cum once his ring finger breached you as well.

Your jaw went slack, your back arching and your hand slipped from off of your mouth. He pulled away from your now weeping opening, his chest heaving and strands of his hair sticking out from under the elastic of the band. He looked more destroyed than you in a humorous way.

"Wow..." You giggled, sitting up in order to stretch your back. He shakily got up, his knees slightly aching from sitting on them for so long. You pulled him into you, releasing his hair from the band and massaging his scalp. His hands placed themselves onto your naked and splayed out thighs, hands warming at the feeling of your soft skin.

"Did I— did I do good?" Even though he whispered it, it still made you smile endearingly. "You did great, Doctor." You teased as he smiled softly. Embarrassingly enough, he reached over a bit to grab some toilet paper in order to wipe his mouth from your release. Your face flushed as he dropped the soiled paper into the toilet next to the both of you.

"We should get out of here, don't you think?" You brought up, which prompted him to grab your pants and underwear in a hurry. "Right, right." He agreed, helping you off the counter and assisting you in getting your clothes on.

Before you two left, he pulled you into him by your waist.

"Would like to go on a date?" There was that same confidence again. "Of course, Spence. And what's with you and this duality? It's giving me whiplash." You chuckled, throwing your arms around his neck. "Actually, whiplash is an injury caused by a severe jerk to the head, typically in a motor-vehicle accident—" You cut him off with a peck, "I know, I was being sarcastic." You sighed, but there was no irritation behind it. He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

He made sure to sneak you out first, flushing the toilet to ensure his ruse. You found yourself chuckling at his extremities, but nonetheless was satisfied as he took a seat next to you. He pulled the blanket over the both of you as his hand met yours, interlacing your fingers together before dozing off on your shoulder.

[wheres-the-fecking-pie]

Blue

Part 1

Homelander x gn!reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where you only see colour once you meet your soulmate.

Disclaimer: Homlander is awful, I don’t condone any of his actions, I just enjoy him as a character.

Content warning: I mean it’s Homelander and the boys I think that’s warning enough.

Apologies for any typos.

_______________

You froze as the world burst into colour around you. You’d been fighting with the boys for so long to take this prick down but now he was standing in front of you and his eyes were blue...

Your mind was racing a mile a minute, telling you to do something, anything! You were supposed to take him down, this wasn’t the plan! However you weren’t the only one who’d faltered, the supe who moments ago had been ready to kill you all now simply stood there, staring and looking not unlike a lost little boy. His mouth opened as if to say something before falling shut.

“What are you waiting for?!” Billy practically screamed from somwhere behind you, you’d almost forgotten they were there. Energy still crackled at your fingertips but your arms had fallen to your sides.

Homelander’s eyes seemed to search yours for something, an answer maybe. Then, as if nothing had happened, he was gone. The ground shook with the force of his takeoff and you were left staring at the space he had been.

You stumbled back, legs almost giving out beneath you. You startled when Butcher grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him.

“What the fuck was that?!”

You only stared at him as you desperately tried to peace together what just happened. Glancing around at your friends expectant faces you almost wished the answer would jump out at you.

“Well?!”

You blinked, a thousand things running through your head, but when you opened your mouth all you managed was

“Blue...”

_____

Billy had barely looked at you since it happened, even Hughie looked at you wearily. You sat at the back of the hideout glaring at the floor. How could this have happened? Why him? After everything he’s done it had to be some cruel joke.

You kept your eyes focused on the floor, not looking up as Hughie took a seat next to you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Butcher was right after all, if Homelander was your soulmate, what did that make you? You were suprised he hadn’t kicked you out immediately, he had every right to.

“So uh... Hey”

You didn’t answer and an awkward silence fell over you.

“You know, maybe the universe is wrong” Hughie tried a second time, doing his best to comfort you.

A heavy sigh left your lungs, “ The universe is never wrong. You saw his face, he could see it too, the colour” you rubbed your hands over your face with another sigh, “I’d always thought that if I did have a soulmate, it would be a special moment, fuck that I guess. Butcher is right to hate me”

“Y/N, he doesn’t hate you, he’s just...”

“It’s okay Hugh, I get it. If Homelander is my soulmate, what does that make me huh?” You stood, “I should leave”

“No!” Hughie rose quickly grabbing hold of your arm “don’t leave, please, you don’t have to leave”

“Yes they do” Billy dropped your bag heavily at your feet, “get out”

“Butcher-“ Hughie started.

“Only kept a supe like you ‘round coz you were useful” Billy spat leaning closer, “but you’re just like the rest of ‘em. Piss off!”

“Butcher!”

“No he’s right” you bit your lip, holding back the tears, “I’ll go”

You took your bag and left the building in a rush, soon finding yourself on the streets with no idea what you should do. The lights were bright, brighter than before, the neon signs felt blinding. The shop windows popped with colour, and every billboard in sight was plastered with those blue eyes and pearly white smile. It made you sick.

Eventually you found yourself back at your apartment for the first time in a while, a thick layer of dust coated the surfaces. You flopped down on the sofa, half expecting a plume of dust to erupt from the cushions with the weight of it. Your head felt heavy against the back of the sofa, there was a million things you should be doing, should be worrying about but right now all you wanted to do was sleep, to get away from it all.

“Nice Place”

You leapt from the sofa with a barely stifled shriek, instinctively taking your fighting stance as energy burst into your palms.

“C’mon, none of that, you know it’s pointless”

You glared as Homelander strolled through your living room entirely unbothered as if he lived there. Hesitantly, you let the energy fizzle away, he was right. The only reason you stood a chance earlier was because you had the element of surprise, right now you had nothing.

Your voice was tight, “what do you want?”

“What do I want?” He frowned before letting out a half laugh that was more of a sharp exhale than anything, looking at you like you’d just asked the stupidest question ever “I want you of course,” he dropped the smile,

“My soulmate” ...

[epiclamer]

bait pt 4? :) love your writing as always 🫶🏻

BAIT PART FOURRRRR

@annablogsposts

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Bait Pt. 4

When padded footsteps came trotting down the stairs, Hero was already partly out of their bonds. One arm freed as their heart sunk completely at the approaching sound.

It couldn’t have been morning already, they were sure of it. Villain shouldn’t be coming down for at least another couple hours.

The lack of gag and blindfold had allowed the hero some little freedom and the ability to find the perfect way to wriggled free. Unfortunately, with one arm still tightly bound to the pole, there was nothing they could do but try and wrench free.

“Wow, okay so you won’t believe it, but I just had this crazy dream where you managed to esca…”

The villain—finally coming into view and off the steps—stopped mid sentence as they stared at the struggling hero. Their brain was still slow from their sleep as they tried to process, before the situation finally caught up to them and they pounced.

Jumping into action as they grabbed Hero’s free arm, pinning it back behind them as their captive struggled. Fiddling with the loosened ropes they managed to slip Hero’s wrist back into the knot and they pulled it tight.

Once Villain was sure the ropes were tight enough to keep the fighting hero restrained they let go and backed up a few steps, letting Hero struggle the rest of their energy out on their own.

Villain lifted a careful hand to their face, wiping away the stream of blood dripping from their nose. An injury from when Hero’s head connected with their face.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing.” They asked, grabbing Hero’s jaw to hold eye contact.

The hero was panting, finally exhausted from hours of struggling and tearing at their muscles, their adrenaline had worked off from the villain’s arrival and now they just wanted to sleep. But they knew that they couldn’t. They’d be punished gravely for an escape attempt.

That’s what always happened.

Yet they couldn’t stop themselves, they were already on Villains bad side, it couldn’t get any worse. So, with what little energy they had left, they spit in the villain’s face.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

Villain cried out as they pulled back, anger burning in their eyes as they wiped their face clean. Blood still ran down from their nose—it was probably busted—but it gave what little comfort it could to Hero, simply knowing that they did damage.

That they didn’t give up this fight to be freed.

“What the fuck, Hero. I’ve been nothing but kind to you this whole time and you try and escape?”

Hero sneered, “if tying me up in some torture chamber and giving me barely any resources or information is your idea of kind, then you should get your head checked, jackass.”

The villain looked just about ready to burst, like they were going to grab any weapon of their choice off the littered walls and just end Hero once and for all. But they didn’t, they took a deep breath, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of their nose as they did their best to stay calm.

“What the hell is wrong with you.” Villain shook their head, they looked disappointed along with furious, two things Hero knew went hand in hand whenever they were at the agency.

They scoffed, unable to control their seething disgust with the other. Whatever humbleness they had for each other earlier was gone. “What the hell is wrong with me? Have you thought about whatever the fuck is wrong with you?”

The criminal turned back to face their captive, taking the few steps to close the gap between them. “Gods, I can’t wait to get rid of you.”

Something coiled in the hero’s stomach, were they being sent off? Killed? Traded? They couldn’t stomach all the possibilities…

“Yeah? And I can’t wait to be rid of you. So looks like we’re both in luck, huh?”

The other shook their head, their nose trailed blood all between their teeth and crack lips as it dripped down off their chin. Suddenly, Hero understood the terror of a civilian up against this city’s villains.

“Supervillain is going to love that defiant spirit.” And before Hero could pull another snarky remark from their mouth, Villain had secured the gag they had brought down back into their mouth. Repeating the same process with the blindfold as the hero thrashed against their bonds.

Villain gave one look at the worn rope before they decided to re-knot it. Taking the stray pieces that Hero had previously escaped from and running them around their chest and arms, just to pull them back and tight against the pole.

The hero let out a squeak when it was pulled so tight it was digging into their skin. Villain would never admit to the pang of empathy it caused their heart to feel. They just kept knotting until they were sure it was enough.

However, as they looked over their bound captive, they saw the bruises laced into their arms from the ropes. They saw the ripped skin and the rope burn, the dry skin and the bleeding knuckles.

As subtly as they could, Villain rearranged the ropes, making sure they weren’t rubbing on any raw areas or fresh bruises. The hero was already hurt, they lashed out because they were hurt.

They didn’t need to be hurt any more.

“Goodnight.” And the lights went out as Villain disappeared up the stairs once more.

[gyu-dloml]

Old Money 💸

Summary : There was a time when you couldn't even imagine your name next to Mingyu's but now he wouldn't dare imagine a life without you.

Pairing : Mingyu x Gn! reader

Genre : Established relationship, fluff, angst and forbidden love

Word count : 494

Warnings : Status/income difference

"How are you so calm?" Mingyu asks holding your hand as he's kneeling before you on the sofa.

"What do you want me to do, Gyu? Throw a tantrum, cry my heart out? Will any of that stop you from getting married to her?" You ask and your lips start quivering.

He thinks you're calm and collected right now but any moment now, you think you'll burst. Because the love of your life is set to get married to another woman. The voice in the back of your head tells you, that you should've known before falling for him.

"Will we not fight? For love?" Mingyu is breaking now because it didn't seem real before he told you. He figured he'd tell you and that you guys would come up with a plan. But you both know it's going to be futile now.

"Gyu..." You start crying now and Mingyu jumps up to embrace you.

It takes you back to the first day you met. The Kim estate owners were well known but nobody had seen the new hire yet. Mr. Kim had not passed away, simply retired as his son was ready to take over. You were standing with all the other employees to witness the debut of Kim Mingyu.

And there he comes, with a smile on his face and polite manners. Everybody in the room can see, he's handsome. The day feels quite long but it's over and all you can hear is how enamored everybody is with their new boss. You knew better than to dote on him, because that would be very risky as you were his new secretary. You were old Mr. Kim's assistant secretary and handled all foreign clients and as Mingyu was bound to work with them, Mr. Kim trusted you to be alongside him.

"I'm sure dad won't mind baby, he likes you." Mingyu says from the top of your head and gives it a loving kiss.

"He likes the employee I am, not my tax bracket babe." You say trying to make the both of you smile.

"It doesn't matter, love. You're the only person I'll marry, I can't have it any other way."

"Gyu, you're the sole hire to all of your estates, you need to think about the company."

"Fuck the company, it's only going bring a few couple billions in and I feel like we'd still be fine without it."

"You rich fucking people." You say as you both start to chuckle.

"Marry me before they marry me off to some other girl, Y/n."

"Want me to buy you a ring?" You smile with tears in your eyes.

And you're lucky again to see his smile that blinds you every time. Kim Mingyu is a star, he shines the brightest. But all he wants to do is shine with you. He shines for you. And he'd be damned if he let's his father get in the way of his love.

Not really one of my best works but there's so much that I've thought for this couple and if you guys like it, I would love to do a part 2 :))

[nightmarish-fae]

professor blake (alex blake/academic!reader)

a/n: I originally wrote this little one shot as a request for @prentiss-theorem. I usually don’t feel very comfortable with sharing what I write, but I have been badgered (lovingly), so here we go. I am not a native English speaker, all mistakes are mine.

pairing: alex blake x reader

genre: silly fluff

warnings: swearing

word count: 767 (one-shot)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was fun, sneaking around with Alex. Not that you were really sneaking around - neither of you needed or wanted to keep your relationship a secret. All the important people in your life knew. But neither of you quite felt the need to tell your colleagues and students at Georgetown when you started seeing each other and eventually, it just slipped your minds. And then, it became sort of a game, seeing just what you could get away with and laughing at how confused people could get trying to put two and two together over shared dinners and glasses of wine. 

You couldn’t be happier. When you took the position of Latin professor at Georgetown, you didn’t quite expect the impact the position would have on your life. On your first day, you managed to bump into a fellow professor and spill your coffee on both of you, which, in turn, made you burst into tears. It might not have been an entirely appropriate reaction, but the stress and terrible previous work experience made it too much for you to handle. 

Even so, it turned out to be one of the best things to ever happen to you. The woman you managed to get your coffee all over, a linguistics professor Alex Blake, blew your breath right away. She was gorgeous. And smart, funny and ridiculously kind. You found out very quickly, because she insisted that the coffee related mishap was her fault, soothed your tears almost immediately and persuaded you to let her buy you another coffee. You knew, on that first day, right after you parted ways, that it was either this woman or no one else.

And you were right. You continued to bump into each other, which in turn evolved into planned meetings when you found out just how much you had in common.

It was easy, falling in love with her. It was easier than breathing. And, by some strange sort of miracle, she fell for you too.

That’s how you ended up cuddling her in your shared bed, in your shared apartment, with a ring on your finger and a cat curled on the bottom of the bed. Sometimes, you felt like crying from how happy you were. It wasn’t all easy. Her FBI job led to late night, dangerous situations and countless arguments. But both of you pushed through, determined to do better for the other one. 

“What is going on in that head, huh?”

Alex snapped you out of your train of thoughts, handing you your coffee mug along with a kiss to your forehead. It was your first day back to work after returning from your honeymoon and while neither of you were quite ready to burst the bubble, there was also fun to be had. 

“Nothing, just thinking how lucky I am to call you my wife.”

That earned you the sweetest possible kiss, carefully pressed to your lips while those clever hands cupped your cheeks. 

“Sweet talker. See you for lunch?”

You simply hummed in response, heading for your lecture with the goofiest smile possible plastered on your face. It was impossible to get rid of. And what made the whole thing even better was what was about to follow. You and Alex made a bet. She insisted it was impossible no one knew about the two of you. You in turn, insisted that the name change was going to come as a shock. The stakes were high, but you knew you had this. Alex overestimated the intelligence of university students. 

It was exactly as you presumed. As soon as you walked down the steps, facing your class, a wave of confusion rose. 

“I thought Professor Blake was meant to be teaching this class.”

You only leaned back and looked at your nails.

“Well, yes. That’s me.”

Trying not to laugh was almost an herculean effort. Their poor little confused faces as they tried to put two and two together filled you with joy. Eventually, they succeeded and you thought you heard what sounded suspiciously like ‘lucky bitch’ coming from one of the girls closer to you. 

“I am indeed lucky, thank you very much. Not sure about the bitch though. Now, because you all managed to score me a weekend getaway with my wife, there will be no pop quiz next week. For the basics…”

As you droned on about the syllabus, your eyes flicked towards the door. It was open and Alex was standing there, leaning against the frame with a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her laughter.

Life was good.

[dnangelic]

@remunporium asked: " This time of year is always so bittersweet for me, Daisuke. " Sirin mutters quietly, sat beside him with her arms wrapped around her knees. She doesn't appear to be staring at anything in particular, but her eyes look.. lost. Her gaze struggles to focus. " .... I still remember the Christmases I'd spend with my mom. It was always just us. She'd make delicious Pirozhki.. we'd spend the day near our fireplace. She'd find a book to read and we'd both binge the whole thing. I miss it. " Her arms wrap just a little bit tighter around her knees. Now her gaze casts down to the floor. " ... " Perhaps realizing that her words had brought down the mood some, Sirin shakes her head and finally turns to look at Daisuke, forcing a small smile. " Enough about that. What're you doing for the holiday, Daisuke? "

has he ever seen sirin like this before ? looking so small and lonely , just one single delicate step away from bursting into tears and volatile upset . something that was there before had gone missing , and all that was left now was the memory , cold as ash or a snuffed out candle . he's felt it too ; tried not to think about the girls he couldn't save this very same season , the ones who had believed in him during cold winter . yet now , either left behind or left with no other option but to clutch at and carry their disembodied memories into the present , he was starting to feel that same sense of dread and urgency again .

even if sirin tries to shy away from it , he had to do something . this time , he could help her . he could help someone . someone who desperately seemed to need it , even if they themselves might not have admit it , or been entirely willing to face what both wasn't fair and too fearful for them alone . even while not knowing what sort of books sirin liked , or what pirozhki was , even having never been there anywhere in those warm holiday memories of hers , he was still here now , in her present --- and he couldn't stand to simply watch her sink .

when her arms clutch about her knees , his own hand twitches and reaches outwards . it doesn't meet her skin , instead reversing into an open , readied palm before her ; warm and welcoming .

' ... do you want to spend it with me ? '

it's unnaturally bold , and he doesn't so much as fluster at his own question , but no part of it has seemed to have struck his mind , so earnest and diligently focused upon her happiness . ' my ... family is probably going to have a big dinner . everyone will take pretty much any excuse they can to cook and get everyone together , but --- i can ask . i can ask someone to make you some pirozhki ! um , it might be a little complicated to ask to bring you over inside into my own house , but i know lots of nice places we can visit instead --- there's a cafe that has a fireplace in azumano , or we can visit a pizza shop and look at the ovens , a-and i can bring any book you want ! or we can visit the library together ! or we can do something completely different , whatever you want ! s-so ... '

his expression pleads . he's close to tears himself .

' ... d-don't be sad , sirin . look , i'm your friend , so i don't want to leave you alone . ' not on days like these while everyone else was merry in the yellow glow of lit windows . even if sirin only wanted to crouch in the snow and the cold , then he'd be sure to find scarves ; blankets , hot cocoa , and stay by her --- trying to point out stars for them both . ' can i spend my christmas with you ? ' he asks once more , going beyond the question of her own desire , confessing his own instead : more than anything else for the holiday , this was what he wished for . ' i'm ... sorry about your mom . but if it means anything , this can be our first christmas together . it's not too late . we can still make it a good one ! so don't give up , okay ? '

his brows ease and set . even in the face of sirin's forced smile --- his own remains broad , bright , and genuine .

' i'll be right here for you . and when we're all done , we can go to the big christmas tree that's always set up at the center of the town . let's make a wish together , sirin ! ' surely , with something like this --- and even with so much behind them , there was still plenty to look forward to .

[scorchieart]

Falling Ahead - Part 3

I think Clavis is finally old enough to dig some threatening holes. A good arm and leg workout, one could argue.

Ages: Yves (7), Clavis (10)

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“Clavis!”

“Say it.”

“Clavis!”

“Just say it, Yves.”

“CLAVIS!”

“Say. It. And this will all go away.”

Yves squeezed his eyes shut as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. The heels of his newly polished dress shoes scuffed against the topsoil, making him reflexively buckle his knees and tighten his grip on Clavis’s hands as he gradually sank farther over the edge of the gaping pit behind him.

“This… this isn’t funny,” Yves choked. “Please… father just bought me this outfit—”

“Oopsie!” Clavis released one of Yves’s arms and dramatically fanned his face with his newly freed hand. “It’s so hot out, and your big brother is all sweaty from digging. Do make this quick. And speak clearly, my prince.”

Yves clung to Clavis’s remaining hand like a kitten to a catnip-filled pillowcase, his nails puncturing small red divots into Clavis’s skin. “Alright! Alright!” he bawled. “Jin was wrong! It’s way more important to workout your limbs than your core!”

Clavis stilled his fanning. “And?”

“A-and Leon beating you at sword training today was just a fluke!”

“And?”

“And?” Yves’s right foot slipped on a patch of loose dirt, dangling helplessly over the void. “—And! And you’re a much, much smarter, cooler, handsomer, nicer, braver, amazinger, funner, friendlier, stronger big brother than Prince Chevalier could ever be!”

Clavis beamed. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he cooed, pulling Yves away from the hole. As soon as both his feet were safely on ground, Yves ripped his arms out from Clavis’s hold and hugged a nearby tree, panting heavily.

“You’re… you’re horrible,” Yves coughed once he could speak again.

“Of course, that’s just the adrenaline talking,” Clavis said, brushing imaginary dirt off his sleeves. “But I know deep down you’re simply bursting at the seams ready to thank me for my amazing scheme.”

“Thank you?” Yves shrilled.

“You’re very welcome.”

“No! I meant, how could you think I would thank you for almost dropping me down a bottomless pit?”

“Aha! But you didn’t fall down, did you?” Clavis sniggered. “And it’s not bottomless, silly. I climbed out of it only a little while ago, and on my honor as the third prince, I tell you there lies a bottom at the bottom.”

Yves flinched as Clavis approached the tree and produced a wound of rope from a crater within. Keeping his grip firmly on a branch, he watched Clavis tie one end around the trunk and the other around a stray rock then toss the rock end into the pit. Most of the rope disappeared down the hole before a soft clunk sound emerged.

“Tada! Impressive, right?” Clavis said gleefully.

Still holding onto the tree, Yves inched his way in the direction of the castle. “I’m telling Sariel.”

“What’s he going to do? Make me do lines? I’m skipping out on a set right now,” Clavis sneered. “Come here, I want to show you something important.” He sat cross legged at the edge of the hole and patted the ground next to him. “I promise it’s not a prank.”

Yves watched him bemused, looked once back at the castle, transferred his grip to the rope, and slowly moved toward his brother. 

“What do you think?” Clavis asked once Yves sat beside him.

“It’s deep,” said Yves, still holding firmly onto the rope.

“Isn’t it?” said Clavis. “Deep enough to trap a grownup, you think?”

Yves paused, a sickening sensation building in his stomach. “I guess...”

“Like Sariel? Or that fuddy-duddy tutor who keeps making me reread my lines? Or how about the king?”

“Clavis!” Yves cried, frantically looking around in case anyone heard. “I’m going back.”

“It’s too late, my darling brother. You’ve seen and heard too much. You’re my accomplice now.”

“No, no, no! I didn’t agree to this. Clavis, let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone, please!”

“I can’t do that, Yves. Not one minute ago you threatened to tattle on Sariel.” 

Yves’s face turned ashen, renewed tears building in his waterline and threatening to burst. “But you’re doing something bad.”

Clavis pulled his sleeve over his hand and gently wiped at Yves’s eyes. “Then what will you do? Will you try and stop me, little prince?”

Yves’s hands clenched around the rope so tightly he felt splinters digging into splinters. The air grew thicker with each second, each breath harder to take in than the last, as Clavis loomed over him with his loony smile. Clavis was taller, faster, and smarter. How could a little prince stop him?

A bigger prince could, like Chevalier and his endless superlatives. A braver prince could, like Leon and his non-accidental fighting skills. A stronger prince could, like Jin and his superior toned…

Yves straightened his shoulders, leaned back, and kicked Clavis squarely in the chest and into the pit. The older prince landed on his bottom at the bottom of the bottom with a rough clunk.

“Clavis!” Yves called, rushing to the edge of the hole. “Clavis! Are you alright?”

“Haha! I think I broke my tailbone,” Clavis replied weakly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry,” cried Yves.

“Don’t be, my plan worked! You passed the test, I’m so proud!” Clavis called, his voice a mix of mirth and pain. “I knew you could do it, Yves. You’re the biggest, bravest, strongest prince of us all!”

“Clavis, you’re hurt so bad you’re talking crazy. Don’t move, I’ll get help!”

“Mmkay!”

It could have been shock from the situation. Or fear from the impending repercussions. Or glee from hearing Clavis’s hysterical outburst. Whatever it was, Yves was not paying attention. And when Yves doesn’t pay attention, he tends to trip on anything. And there just so happened to be a precariously placed rope inches from his ankle. And a dangerously wide trap hole inches from the rope.