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cherryredstars · 3 days

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First off, I love you.

Second off, I love you A LOT.

Okay so I’m losing my mind over a brain vomit where younger reader’s been harboring and hiding feelings for Miguel for the sake of being appropriate and it’s starting to make her frustrated like “fuck I’m gonna get actually fucking sick and vomit” because how much she’s crushing on him is CRAZY, so reader basically goes up to Miguel like “I can’t take this anymore.” Like reject me so I can move on type of thing. “ Do me a favor, and break my nose or something. Tell me to fucking go away” or something like that. My brain is burning.

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader, John Price x civil!reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: For my baby, I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!

Edited (just for you boo)

| Miguel O'Hara

If you look at him, you will actually throw up.

Like projectile 'make yourself a laughing stock' throw up. It's just the way your body- your stomach- reacts when you see him. It gets twisted, fluttery with a fix of butterflies and disgust. It's down right disgusting, inappropriate at the least. He's almost a decade older than you, yet here you are pining after him as if you're some teenage girl. You feel physically sick when you think about it for too long: throat contracting and your stomach hurting. You aren't sure which of your delusions are the cause of such a horrendous crush, but you promise you'll strangle it when you find out. There is simply no way this could have ever worked out in your favor. It's simply impossible.

Miguel O'Hara would never go for someone like you. Young and naive, haven't even reached the appropriate age to have a mid-life crisis (but you're sure this is the closest fucking thing to it). You know this, hammer it into your thick skull every day before you have to face him. Yet, it all comes crumbling down when you lay eyes on him. It takes less than a second for you to skip after him, a stupid, lovesick look flickering across your face as you help him with whatever he needs. You simply can't stay away, even if you tried. You always fall back into his orbit, gravity pushing you towards him until you're practically glued to him.

You're sure he must find it annoying. Probably relates it to something like babysitting. It's well known Miguel doesn't like to be bothered when he's working. But there you are without fail, sitting around on his platform entertaining yourself by playing with LYLA when you aren't out saving universes. You don't miss the way his eyes flick to you every now and then with some emotion you can't quite place. But if you had to guess, it's probably something close to exasperation.

In all honesty, you're tired of it.

Tired of the false hope you delude yourself into believing after every minor interaction. Tired of trying to justify your affection for the older man. Tired of feeling a bit of resentment towards yourself. You're just... tired. He must sense it when you walk onto the platform, judging by the look he shoots you.

LYLA is muted mid-sentence as he angles his body slightly away from his monitors and towards you, watching as you plop yourself in your usual spot. He waits expectantly for your usual greeting, brows furrowing with confusion when you do nothing but play with the elastic quality of your suit. You haven't even looked at him since you got in.

"Everything alright?" His all so familiar voice asks, making your stomach ache and the urge to punch yourself stronger.

"Yeah," you respond simply, silence lapping over the two of you.

Miguel waits patiently, expecting something more. But, you don't continue. Miguel hesitates for a moment before turning back around. His eyes study the screens once more, his finger hovering over the button to unmute LYLA before you speak up again.

"Can you like... degrade me or something?"

Miguel almost chokes on his spit when he turns around, not expecting you to say...that. You're still playing with your suit and staring at the floor, face painted with frustration. You look up when he doesn't answer, brows furrowed when your eyes meet his shocked face. You quickly divert your attention to his muscular shoulder, not really having the courage to face him head-on.

"Not like the... sexy kind. More like the heart wrenching kind." You clarify, not that it's any better for Miguel.

He turns to full face you this time, arms crossed over his chest as he studies you. The request doesn't really make sense to him. Why would you want him to do that? Is it some universe-exclusive culture he isn't aware of?

"Why?" Miguel asks, trying to recall your past interactions to see if they have something to do with your strange request.

"I dunno, just thought it might make it easier?" You shrug, your eyes flicking to his again and then looking towards the ceiling.

"Make what easier, exactly?"

Miguel isn't a fan of cryptic answers, but he tries to be patient with you. He watches as your face twists, unsure how to word what you're feeling. You let out a heavy sigh eventually, actually meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for once.

"To get over you."

The words cause Miguel to freeze, his body going rigid. You groan, hiding your embarrassed face in your hands and scrubbing ferociously. This is absolutely embarrassing. You wished a random portal would just appear under you, throwing you into another universe and far away from this particular moment in time.

You're so caught up in your embarrassment that you don't realize Miguel is walking over to you until he's crouched down in front of you. He pries your hands gently from your face, giving you the softest smile you have ever seen on him. His thumbs caress your wrists absentmindedly, doing nothing to calm your raging heart. It practically explodes when he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes are wide and dazed as you look up at him, trying to commit the curve of his mouth to memory.

"Now, why would I want you to do that?"

_____________

| John Price

You aren't exactly sure when it started.

But the moment you realized you liked John, you've started hating yourself. It feels wrong. Almost disrespectful in a way. You aren't particularly sure why, it just does. John Price is a nice man, a good man. A man that could be easily mistaken as your father if someone didn't look close enough. The man you had happened to meet and befriended one day after he had been so kind and gentle with you.

Not the man you should be liking and forcing your feelings on.

You're someone John goes to for comfort, someone he seeks out after coming home from a battlefield. Someone that's supposed to help him distress. The idea of taking advantage of that gently placed trust, of expecting something from John just because he goes to you for help, makes you want to throw up until you're nothing but a useless husk. It's shameful, eating you up on the inside until you feel like your organs are on the verge of failure.

So your solution: Avoid Johnathan Price like the plague.

Does it hurt seeing his texts flash across your phone screen, asking you if you're free throughout the week so he can spend time with you before he deploys again? Hell fucking yes. It makes you feel guilty as hell. But you try to justify it to yourself, reassuring that it's only temporary. That everything will go back to normal once these stupid feelings leave you alone and John Price goes back to being the sweet man you grab lunch with every now and then when he's home so you can catch up.

But of course, your plans never go accordingly.

You startle on your couch when there is a firm knocking on your door, your hands rushing to pause the telly to see if it was just a hallucination. But sure enough, that same steady knocking sounds again. You get up hesitantly, brows furrowed as you try to remember if you ordered take away or something. You peak through the peep-hole, hand planted on the cool wood of the door as you squint.

The alertness in your body dies away when the familiar frame of John greets you, only to tense up again. John Price is at your door. The same John price you've been avoiding for a week. The same exact John fucking Price you're practically in love with. Your hand slides down to the knob, gulping nervously as you unlock it and yank your door open.

John is standing there with his hand raised again to knock, decked out in his military gear. His hands drop to grip the strap of his vest, his mutton chops quivering as his face lifts into his soft smile. You blink up at him, feeling the knob warm under your hand and your heart slamming against your chest. Why did he have to be so handsome, goddamnit?

You step out of the doorway, silently inviting him inside. He accepts it, stepping in and examining the area out of habit. You close the door quietly after him, turning to face him as he turns to face you.

"Missed ya, love? Been busy lately?" He asks in that comfortingly rough voice of his.

You don't trust yourself to not choke on your words, scared he'll see through your lies. Instead you nod, letting out a weak hum that he returns in a more confident note. Your eyes drop down to his military gear, a frown slipping onto your face. Is he being deployed again?

As if sensing the underlying question, John's hands let go of his military vest and he stuffs them into the pockets of his tactical pants.

"Heading out tonight, just wanted to say goodbye before I go since I didn't get to see you this time around."

You feel a stab to your chest at his words, resisting the urge to lift your hand and smooth the pain.

"John..." You start hesitantly, your mouth going dry when he hums again. "Can you tell me you hate me? Or... or that you think I'm stupid or something?"

John tilts his head in confusion, brows furrowing as his lips thin. There is a silent question in your eyes, an aura of demand wafting from him that orders you to explain further. Your hand comes to rub your arm, socked heel digging into your ankle as you debate how much to tell him.

"It's just... I like you and I don't..." You sigh in frustration, turning your head away to glare at the wall. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of how nice you've been to me or that I expect you to reciprocate how I feel."

It's quiet for a moment before John's chuckling fills the room. Your head turns away from the wall, meeting the sparkling amusement in John's eyes as he looks at you. There is a fondness there that makes your knees feel weak, your breath getting trapped in your lungs. John takes steady, reassured steps towards you, stopping when he's centimeters away. Your heart is practically lurching in your chest as you look up at him, watching as he slowly takes off his boonie hat.

Your eyes are wide as he places it over your head, chuckling when it slips down over your face before he readjusts it. He admires the sight for a second before he leans down, his facial hair tickling your cheeks as his lips press against the corner of your mouth. Your heart officially stops, your body dangerously close to swaying as he pulls away. You're in a daze as he pinches your cheek lightly, trying to call your attention away from the sparks lingering across your skin.

"We'll take about this when I get back, silly girl." He rumbles, his heavy paw landing on the top of his hat before he slips past you, closing and locking the door behind him as he disappears out of your flat. You're left in a daze as your shaky hands reach up and grasp the rim of his hat, the smell of him instantly invading your senses.

And when John reaches base and the lads pester him about where his usual hat is, he just shakes his head and replies that he left it at home for safe keeping.

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moonybug444 · 1 day

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toxic connie freaking the fuck out when your period is late and calling you a cheating whore :/

a long night

tw: physical abuse, very toxic relationships, connie’s calls reader all types of names. just mean

“no—no you think this shit is a fucking game, (name).”

connie’s grip on your arm is impossibly tight and at this point you don’t know what to do. you’ve been going back and forth with him for hours and he’s really not letting up. you’re tired and your arm hurts.

“can you fucking listen?! i swear if you don’t get the fuck off of me m’gonna—!”

connie’s twisting your body around and he’s in your face in a instant, pushing your back flat against your bedroom door you were just trying to open to get the fuck away from him.

sometimes you let yourself forget. you forget how dangerous connie really is. you forget. although he’s seems like a joking and lighthearted guy in people’s faces, he’s been fighting for years. he can really change his whole persona with one blink of an eye.

“you’re gonna what, (name)?” his jaw visibly clenches. “what the fuck are you gonna do ta me?”

he looks down at you and waits, like he really wants an answer to the question—

“c-connie i promise you…!”

“shut the fuck up!”

in a second you go from against the door to on the fucking floor, he pushes you hard and he means to do damage.

honestly this day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

you and connie actually started off good this morning. you woke up to him wrapped around you like a blanket before you guys got up and decided to make breakfast together. it had been sweet, sure it was basic. all you did was make pancakes together for heavens sake, but you’ve got to treasure that with a relationship like yours, it’s not often you have good morning together. most you’re already waking up with your gloves on ready to pounce. so of course you were greatful for the sweet acts this morning, too bad it didn’t last long. it wasn’t until later at about three o’clock, while you were getting ready to get a shower is when everything started.

“(n,n,)” connie calls into the bathroom swinging his keys around his finger and rushing to put a t-shirt on. “m’runnin out for a minute, you want me to pick up something?”

you were too busy getting all you shower stuff together to hear him of course, you guess that was your first mistake. he gets real mad at little shit like that.

“yo.”

not listening. you were too busy humming to yourself and looking down at your acrylics, need to book that appointment.

“(name!)” you heard that alright, no mistake. “what the fuck do you need from the store?”

you explained to him you don’t need anything, not before weakly defending yourself, telling him to stop fucking yelling. all he does is roll his eyes and search the place a little deciding himself what you need. he’s not about to go through this little annoying ass cycle like always. you say you don’t need shit then he leaves out and comes back and all the sudden everything’s popping in your dumb little head now. it pisses him off.

he starts with the kitchen. not much, probably some condiments, some of those like strawberry milk packs you like, and some more paper plates, you hate doing dishes. but God forbid you bring the ‘ugly’ paper plates, make sure to bring back those cute pink ones. he moves on to where you’re at the bathroom.

when he goes in there you’re still naked and humming to yourself while you look in the mirror spaced out. still not in the shower.

“watch out baby—”

“oh connie don’t worry about getting pads in stuff ok? don’t think i’ll need them in a minute.”

the words nearly fly over connie’s head until he really stops to think. ‘don’t think i’ll need them in a minute?’ what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

connie quickly gets irritated and worried, immediately jumping to all types of conclusions. honestly you’ve been with each other for too long. he should know by now how irregular your periods are, just shows how little he pays attention to you.

you try to explain it to him but connie’s making shit up in his own head, finding a solution in his own head.

you had went out last weekend right? yeah last weekend. he doesn’t know what the fuck it was for, maybe a girls night? he doesn’t fucking know, he knows he didn’t want you to fucking go though. you looked too fucking good. of course you being you trying to go out in your ‘sluttiest outfit’ as he’d say. he made you change like four times before getting pissed off and going home, cussing you out on the way out the door.

so what, you went out the other weekend, with your other slut friends and what now magically you just don’t have your period? you’re a fucking liar.

and once connie decides on something, it’s set in stone for him, no going back.

that shit started till three o’clock in the fucking afternoon and it’s twelve at night and you guys are still going.

you’re back where you were on the floor looking up at him with wide scared eyes, shocked by just how fast he gets mad.

“i don’t fuck anybody but you, you’re fucking crazy!”

“yeah, yeah?” he picks you up off the ground with just his one hand and drags you towards the bed, trying to straddle himself on you.

“get-get the fuck off connie,” here come the tears, you try your best to block his view from your face but he pins you on the bed and has both of your wrist with just one hand while he clenches his hand around your tear soaked face.

he’s all in your face yelling and it’s too much for you to take honestly, you break down even hard trying to push him away with all the strength you have but you just can’t.

“oh you’re fucking crying? you wanna fucking cry you fucking slut—?”

“st-stop calling me names connie! i didn’t fuck anyone else—“

you’re lying and he knows it. he swears if he looks at you any long he’s gonna slap the shit out of you. wouldn’t be the first time, but that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. he gets off of you and watches you hop of the bed crying and shaking, immediately jumping up and doing everything you can to hurt him. it doesn’t do shit to him though, it just makes you look like a fucking idiot.

“you’re a fucking slut y’know that? know how fucking disgusted i am? my girlfriends a fucking cheating whore. a cheating pregnant whore.” you slap him. you don’t know how hard but your hand is stinging red it hurts. bad.

you’re still crying—sobbing when he looks down at you, a look of anger, disgust prominent on his face.

“couldn’t even use a fucking condom right? right you stupid bitch?!” he grabs both of your arms and drags you out the room, whispering you wanna keep fucking playing, to himself as you stumble behind him and try to regain your footing..

“where the fuck is your phone?” you’re still crying, you don’t even care anymore. all you wanna do is cry and role around on your floor and scream.

“g-get the fuck o-off, connie.” you try to move somewhere else but he’s got a tight grip on your little arm.

all you want to do is get away from him right now, so you grab the closet object to yourself with your free hand and repeatedly hit him with it. oh that gets him mad real quick. everything after that is a blur and by the time you’re fulling aware again, your lip is bleeding and your head is pounding. connie’s sitting on the crunch going through your phone. you look at the clock that reads 1:23am.

it’s gonna be a long night.

#connie springer #aot connie #connie x reader #tw toxic relationship #toxic relationship #toxic connie #toxic!connie #toxic reader #tw abuse #tw dark content #i missed writing omg

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narrans · 3 days

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My Borrowed Son | 25 | Where Were You...

Chapter Twenty-Five | Where Were You…

Kit walked briskly through the walls, heart refusing to calm as it thundered against her ribs. Her thoughts dwelled on everything that had just happened. She was completely consumed with nothing else and relied completely on muscle memory as she traversed the beams leading back home.

What was that all about?

That kid thinks he’s a human! That Borrower kid thinks he’s a human.

He called out for her as if she was his mom.

What’s his deal?

That guy Kers was right.

This is insane.

That kid is a pet, and he doesn’t even know it. There’s no way that human woman treats him like her actual son.

Humans don’t see Borrowers as anything other than pets!

“Where were you?”

Kit stopped dead in her tracks and realized she was just outside of her home, and her brother Finnick was waiting outside for her. He was casually leaned up against the front entrance. He didn’t even try to hide the fact he was waiting for her.

Kit huffed and tried pushing past her brother, but he easily stepped in front of her and blocked the doorway.

“You went, didn’t you?” asked Finnick. The eldest Borrower brother suspected his sister would do something foolish, but he was too late to catch her or stop her from doing anything. He had tailed Kers to make sure he wasn’t going immediately to the human woman and doubled back once he was done. There was just this looming, instinctual feeling that Finnick couldn’t shake.

When he talked to his parents, they said she hadn’t come down for dinner, but she had responded when they asked if she was there.

This was hours ago.

He went to her room, hoping beyond hope that Kit didn’t do something ridiculous, and knocked on her door. The lack of response said it all. The eldest brother ducked outside and saw her window wide open and her belay thread hanging there in a challenging taunt.

With only one idea of where she went after all of these hours, Finnick knew there was nothing to be done except to wait and see what happened. There was no way he could get there in time, if he could even find out where the Borrower kid was staying down below in the human world and then find his sister on top of that.

Kit had this bad habit of doing what she thought was right regardless of the consequences, and now was one of those times.

Finnick could only hope that she was successful.

Sadly, seeing his sister storming up in a daze in absent minded frustration, Finnick knew she had failed.

This led them to their moment now as he blocked her way into their home.

“Well?” he prompted. His sister clenched her jaw and jerked her head away.

“Well what? Good for you! You caught me. Yeah, I went. Happy?” she grumbled under her breath. “Going to go tell mom and dad? Wake up the whole house so we can start moving?”

Finnick sighed and shook his head.

“No. I’ll save that privilege for you,” replied Finnick. “And the fact you don’t have him here with you means that Kers guy was telling the truth.”

“Yeah, so why don’t you rub it in my face more?” growled Kit as she tried to push past her brother. “Now, move!”

“Not before you tell me what happened. What was he like? Did he say anything?” asked Finnick. Kit folded her arms indignantly. She was shaking, though her brother couldn’t identify the sole reason as to why. Fear? Nerves? Frustration? Anger?

It didn’t matter because she decided to answer his question.

“He doesn’t know what he is, Fin. He thinks he’s human. You should’ve heard him crying out for his mom – that human. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever see. He was living in some kind of weird doll house with wires and water all hooked up to it. It basically looked like a small human house with screens and tech all over the place. It was so weird.”

Finnick listened to his sister’s words and considered them carefully. It sounded impossible for a Borrower to slip so easily into living like a human; that is, if they lived like a Borrower at all.

Kers had said something about thinking this kid had spent most of his life living with this human. Did the human capture Parker’s parents? Did she take him away from them? Or was this actually a compassionate human taking care of an orphaned Borrower child?

Finnick sighed and stepped to the side, allowing his sister inside.

“Let’s just hope nothing comes of it. You need to tell mom and dad sometime tomorrow, and you and I will be going out first thing to make sure he doesn’t help the human tear down the house to try and find us,” said Finnick. “And if you don’t fess up, I’ll tell them in the worst way possible.”

“Goodie two shoes,” grumbled Kit under her breath as she pushed past Finnick.

The eldest Borrower child knew the family was in quite the precarious situation, but fretting in the middle of the night wasn’t going to solve the issue and they could only prepare for a reaction if anything came of it.

Who knew?

Maybe this Parker kid would think all of it was a bad dream and brush off seeing his sister.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

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tealvenetianmask · 2 days

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About Stolas's mortality:

Stolas is confident enough in his invulnerability that he doesn't take assassination attempts seriously (see Loo Loo Land and the beginning of Western Energy). But at the same time he's fixated enough on his mortality that as a young dad (early twenties?) he sings to his daughter about a time when he'll be gone and later, in the present, worries about dying alone. So what gives?

I think there are a few possibilities.

He's seen a prophesy about his own death. I've seen this theory floating around a bunch, and it's compelling. Stolas's job is to study the stars and find prophesies. Maybe when he was young he saw something about when and/or how he'll meet his end. Maybe he knows a lot, or maybe he just knows a little. Maybe he saw something else too- something about Blitz and/or something that makes it impossible for him to blindly follow what his family expects of him. If this is the case, I still don't think we have to worry about Stolas dying any time soon. If he dies in the series, it will be at or near the very the end. I'm confident about this because he's the main love interest, and a huge facet of Blitz's character development is overcoming issues so that they can be in a relationship. If Stolas were to die, that arc would be halted. I'm NOT WORRYING, guys.

When things get bad, he fears that he's going to unalive himself. While it's not strictly canon, there's that "Do it for egg" moment on Blitz's sinstagram that suggests that there were times when Stolas had to push himself to keep going just for Via. This could also account for the worry about dying alone. Does he see his life as only continuing for as long as he can stand it? I think this theory is a solid one too and could explain the inconsistency without any prophesies. It fits Stolas's character development- he spent thirty-five(ish) years of his life functionally living for others- his family's expectations, his daughter's wellbeing . . . and now he has to learn to live for himself. This could be very moving to explore.

There's no impending doom. He's really just aware that he's both powerful and mortal and working to reconcile that like anyone else. If Blitz has a shorter natural lifespan than him (which . . . he has to, right?) then "die alone" isn't about literally expecting to have Blitz with him when he dies if they get together- it's about getting to experience the kind of relationship he wants in order to give his life meaning. I think this train of thought would be pretty amped up after his brush with death in Western Energy. I think it fits, and I like it.

Anyway, what do you think? This is basically just me trying to sort out my opinion (and procrastinate on my actual work/fill time until Full Moon with HB discussion!), and I arrived at . . . idk, I like all of them. I like the prophesy theory least, probably just because I like Stolas and want him to live and be happy. 😩

#stolitz #stolitz duet spoilers #duet spoilers #stolitz duet #stolas #stolas goetia #my helluva meta #tw mental illness #tw suicide #How is he this cute and silly and this serious at the same time?

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