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anthroposeen · 1 day

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tmagp 13 relisten notes!!

there are spoilers for episode 13 below the cut!

celia:

- admits to sam that she asked alice for advice and general information about him. this implies she has a pretty friendly relationship with alice (evidenced by alice buying her a mocha) and seems relatively unthreatened by her past with sam so far.

- "no one, im mysterious" -> evidence for her not being from this dimension, if no one can give a lot of information about her

- reveals jack is her baby! (not followed by a glitch)

- says the past couple years "since the move" (between dimensions?) were weird for her

- believes the incidents they work with are real, and im certain shes in the same boat as the audience rn, trying to categorize them with background knowledge that isnt accurate anymore

sam:

- easy to make blush, doesnt know how cute he is, is an overachiever, obsessive, a but repressed, nosy, kind of a recluse, and very easy to wind up

- gifted kid syndrome poster child; he seems to view being turned away by the magnus institute as the beginning of his rejection streak (not admitted to oxford, didnt get first, got fired from his legal firm). i think this will be a major point in his motivations and a fear of rejection and need for validation is going to drive him to receive the greatness he wants (and believes he has earned). i can already see a corruption arc brewing for him, poor thing

- did NOT tell celia about his experiences in the institute or what his "incident" was (referring to lena's interview where she asked him what the worst thing he's seen/experienced was). this isnt super sketchy considering its a first date, but is interesting since he was the one who wanted "all the baggage" out early

- he doesn't want to accept that the incidents are real, but i think he does believe in them. he brought the topic up to celia and has asked alice about it before too, so he may be aware that the incidents are real, but is unwilling to fully conceptualize what that means for himself and his world view

- says that alice doesnt love the idea of him seeing celia, which means he may have picked up on her feelings for him

gwen:

- feels guilty over instigating the mr.bonzo incident -> whats really interesting is that she doesnt threaten to quit or not be involved, she accepts that she gas another email to look through and another external to interact with, but it seems to upset her

- she asks lena why this (externals and mr bonzo murder) is happening, implying that she can stomach the work if its for a reason

lena:

- gives gwen the ABCs of genre-awareness:

- this dimension also has "opposing forces- most of them meaning to be harmful.

- these "forces" need to be "balanced" and controlled in order to maintain order in the world/system -> still working off of a smirke-esque theory that retaining balance will keep the world secure. i dont know if she means balance between forces of good and evil or forces in the supernatural sense

- says the OIAR is managing the bad guys, as in monitoring their actions and directing externals to "balance" things

alice:

- actually offended that sam doesnt want to share information with her and isnt having a good time knowing sam and celia are seeing each other

- tells sam "he cant prove anything" about the cases being real, but doesnt tell him hes wrong

- i would fling myself from a sky scraper for you, miss dyer, but please never say bussin or fire again

- "stop trying to make an impact" -> the more she tells sam to cut the x-files shit out, the more she stops protesting his suspicions. her scolding has gone from "nothing is going on, chill out" to "sure, theres a conspiracy, but we are paid to ignore it"

alice/sam's past:

- dated at uni, previously stated they were together for several years. it seems to have been a decent split since they stayed in contact afterward.

- sam was there for her when her parents died, but lost contact after

- she contacted him w the OIAR job details after he made an exceptionally pathetic vague post

incident:

- centered around gambling and self harm to achieve success- this draws ties to episode 2 (self harm) and episode 9 (luck). i expect this is more aligned with ep 9, as the self harm seems to be in the interest of changing his odds/luck, and the incident is primarily about gaining external success, not physical change. though, ep 2 could be a personal experience with ink5oul that is not representative with their "force"

- the narrator of this statement was quick to actively sacrifice his own well being to achieve better luck, which is a pretty stark contrast to other people who looked to harm other people in their own interest (violin guy and dice guy, i forgot their names sorry!!)

- zorro trader may be a reoccurring organization in relation to gambling

- the narrators options for his debt were to either pay it back or have a personal adjustment, once he completes the voicemail he is transferred to the adjustments apartment, which was not an option on the original call log and something he did not request

- he is promptly adjusted :)

- i think this could be related to the theme of keeping balance, since the incident narrator claims it isnt wrong to play with the loophole, and it ends with him getting what he owes, which is a nice connection to lena's explanation of the OIAR's purpose

glitches/lies:

- "im happy you're happy", alice (she is not happy that sam is with celia!!)

extra comments:

- i really didnt expect an explanation of the OIAR and its position in this so early, and im surprised lena was the one to reveal it. this exposes that shes pretty open with the staff she feels are on a need-to-know basis, and it also changes my expectations for how we'll come across a big reveal in this series, since information is being given in a more open way

- i think alice and celia definitely know something but in opposing ways- acting as foils to each other with sam (information seeker) in the middle. celia knows about how the fears work in the tma dimension, and alice knows why and what the OIAR are really doing- together, they solve the puzzle that sam is trying to piece together.

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 13 #alice dyer #sam khalid #celia ripley #gwen bouchard #lena kelley #tmagp theory #tmagp thoughts

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 3 months

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Limits - OP81

Request: heyyyyy, so i LOVE ur account and so (if ur request r open) could u write a mean dom oscar (if u write 4 him) where the reader has been teasing him like the whole race weekend and he finally had enough and just like fucks the shit out of her????

Themes: Very rough sex, safe word (at one point there is a one chance use), mean dom Oscar (ngl irl I think Oscar is just the softest man alive with his gf), brat!reader, edging followed by overstimulation, use of toys too ;)

I think I honestly made Oscar so unhinged, like I'm not sure you can say this resembles Oscar at all but...lol enjoy anyway. Please proceed with caution fr.

In truth, Oscar knows he's maybe been neglecting his girlfriend in giving her attention recently. So maybe he should've known she'd go out of her way to provoke his possessive jealous side.

Flirting and acting stupidly ditsy with not only Lando and Logan but she really went and befriended Daniel and Carlos too. Daniel the man he replaced and while there's no bad blood between them, she knows it's not nice. In addition, going after Carlos who there is actually a bit of tension with because of their on track collisions and impeding.

Oscar's cool demeanour was getting harder and harder to maintain.

Before qualifying he finally reaches a peak when he spots her laughing with one of the mechanics, leaning to whisper in his ear with her eyes trained on her boyfriend as he nears her, pulling at the strap on his helmet to get it off.

Whatever expression he's wearing isn't a mask of his emotions and he nears his girlfriend scaring the mechanic off to tend to the car.

"You did good." Y/n comments absently while directing her attention elsewhere, looking behind him before waving her fingers at Lando who has climbed out his car.

In a moment of not controlling himself anymore, his finger hooks her chin and forces her to look at him, the fire behind his eyes making her realise mission was well and truly accomplished. She has his attention.

But when he leans over into her ear.

"Keep it up. You're digging yourself a hole that you're already very deep in." Oscar whispers darkly making her almost shudder.

She's pissed Oscar off before. She's not stranger to his anger resulting in a form of punishment that she's all to happy to receive. But the hollow, icy void of his voice tells her that she has gone too far. He might just make her regret this so much, there's going to be a permanent change.

"I-"

"You want to keep yourself quiet for the rest of the day." Oscar cuts in sternly making her swallow but nod. "Good."

The atmosphere between Oscar and y/n was tense for the rest of the day and getting back to the hotel y/n is in a sweat of nerves.

She's been practically mute aside from polite goodbyes and small talk for the rest of the day and by the time they are alone again, she is almost fearful of her boyfriend's temperament. Waiting for him to speak first.

"Get on the bed, y/n." Oscar instructs making her heart thump but she does as asked while he turns to watch her actually be obedient for once. He's got a burning gaze, she almost wants to grimace at the feeling, but she just keeps herself breathing steadily.

Oscar doesn't speak for nearly 5 minutes and honestly if she was with anyone else, she might genuinely fear for her life. But instead she feels like her thighs are about to chaff from how wet she's getting.

"Ok, baby." He sighs knowing he's had the intended effort by staring her down for a few minutes. "You know what you were doing was wrong. I'm not going easy on you just because you want to use bratty ways to get my attention. There's better ways."

Honestly, Oscar has been hard and uncomfortable since he got out the car. It's a miracle no one noticed and y/n has been so obviously too focused on herself like the selfish little brat she is, so she has not noticed.

"Breathe, y/n." Oscar instructs with a sharp edge to his tone already knowing she's tense enough and silent enough that she has been holding her breath, unintentionally but still he doesn't want her to suffocate herself.

"Sorry."

Oscar has no intention of going easy on her. He's got no intention of leaving her wanting more. She's going to get what she wanted, all of his attention even if he's not there to give it. But he'll be saving that particular element to her punishment for later.

"You're keeping your hands to yourself." Oscar states hardly giving her seconds to notice he's managed to pull of his short and top in record speed before, pushing her back, tearing her own clothes off with no regard for the fact she really liked that dress. "Safe word."

"Red."

Simple, short and effective.

Y/n has to tame her excitement of knowing she's about to get some real attention. He knows her body so it's no surprise that when he slams into her with no warning that there's no resistance from dryness but the sudden feeling of being filled with his whole length. She was wet but completely unprepared for feeling so full.

She knows better than to remain quiet, if Oscar wants one thing during sex it's to hear every reaction she has to give. He wants to hear her voice strain and slowly fade because he wants her fucked out so hard that her voice is worn out.

There's no adjustment pause, he's slamming in and out of her with no remorse, chasing his own pleasure while completely bruising her g-spot. Though he changes angle aiming to hit something else and when he does she completely cries out when he presses a hand down on her stomach the sheer pressure combine with the new angle leaving him smashing into her cervix with all intention to probably leave her feeling the after effects of this punishment till the next race. A reminder not to act up again short of feeling it for another two weeks.

"Oscar." Y/n cries out getting closer to orgasm while he continues to go almost feral on her.

It's too much. Everything feels too much.

To her surprise, Oscar pulls out and she feels an eruption of anger and attitude.

"What the hell?"

"Get on the floor and open your mouth, I don't want to hear a word and don't you dare thing about putting those hands anywhere near that fucking cunt." Oscar instructs making her glare at him but he's challenging her. She refuses and him not letting her finish when she was so close is going to be the least of her problems.

His tone and words makes her get up, more than aware her throat is about to receive the same treatment that almost had to her close to orgasm. But she's not going to quite get the same pleasure from it.

Y/n already knows if she said red, this would stop in the moment. But where's the fun in that? Even if it's going to take her a while to get there before he allows her to enjoy herself.

"Use that mouth for something it's actually good at that." Oscar sighs as she gets down on her knees in front of him. Feigning innocence does nothing for Oscar, so she doesn't waste time batting her eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick.

She practically swallows his length down whining when he groans and gathers her hair messily in a fist as the back of her head. A few seconds pass before she makes it obvious she doesn't want to control the speed or depth, she might be a brat but at the end of the days even she knows who is in control.

If he intended to wear her voice out from forcing her to use it after pounding her throat and seeing just how far he can force his dick down it, then he's certainly going to be successful.

Tears gather in her eyes before she tries to close them. Mistake number one.

"No. You keep looking at me."

Another whine but he so obviously doesn't care as he looks down at her. He groans shooting his cum down her throat as he holds her down just completely filling her stomach before she is let up.

"Please." Y/n pants earning a cruel smirk.

"Please what?"

"Please finish me too."

"You want to cum too?" He taunts making her swallow thickly. "What makes you think you deserve it?"

Y/n's lip quivers. Oh her boyfriend can come across and calm, sweet and smiley to the public but this side can be so mean. She knows it's her doing and again if she says red he'll scoop her up with a 180 with his mood and attitude towards her.

"You've acted like a brat all weekend, you flirted with four other drivers. Why should I make you feel good?"

If she says "because I'm your girlfriend who just swallowed your cum" as an answer that will work in her favour or against her?

"Because I won't do it again?"

Now a flat out no would've been more comforting than his hand being held out because what follows is just her being pinned to the bed.

"You know what I think?" Oscar questions making her swallow thickly, her throat knocking the Aussie's lips as he kisses her neck, moving kisses down in a faux gentleness that even in her frustration and nerves, she's not foolish enough to fall for. "I think you will do it again, because you can't help yourself."

Not good news for her.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

Oscar's head disappearing between her legs honestly leaves looking at the ceiling, skin prickly with anticipation. But her chest shakes with a moan of relief as he pushes two fingers into her, just his touch being enough for her to feel her body building up to another orgasm. She could probably cum just from the memory of Oscar filling her if she really tried, but Oscar doesn't want that.

Which is why every time she begins to tense, every time she begin to gasp for, grind further down into his face, she is desperately chasing an orgasm that he'll deny her possibly all night. Maybe she won't get one. The worst level of punishment she could possibly receive and he knows it.

It goes on forever, he moves back and eases up any time she gets close and it had her in tears. Then he stops.

"Alright, you get to finish tomorrow." Oscar states mainly because he can see y/n is fighting exhaustion. He's being horrible from a place of kindness. Not that she sees it that way.

"No. No. Please. I'll do anything, Oscar, please. Don't leave me high and dry."

"I promise you, I'll make it up to you tomorrow." And she'll wish he wasn't making such a promise. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then you know I'll make you feel so good tomorrow."

Y/n feels on the brink of insanity, he's toyed with her for well over an hour. Bringing her to the edge and never letting her free fall into an orgasm.

"Come on, you need some sleep."

Oscar makes sure y/n is position with his thigh settled between her legs, wet on his skin as she partially lies on top of him. It's fairly obvious that were it not for him holding her tightly against himself that she's be restless and endlessly shifting.

But she does somehow get to sleep, long after Oscar who can sleep even with his girlfriend struggling to settle her unkempt energy.

The depth of sleep y/n had fallen into was impressive. Especially when he tied her up and sighs blowing a cool breeze against her core, watching it twitch and clench around nothing. Puffy from yesterday's abuse but today he's about to make her wish she'd never even thought about opening her mouth and speaking to another driver.

Now one thing about their sex life is that Oscar doesn't cater to the idea he's too good to use toys on y/n.

He sighs rubbing his fingers a final attempt to wake her up which works, but she jumps awake in a shock of being so restricted. Her hands tied together at the headboard, and her legs tied so they're bent revealing her pussy to the air.

"What-"

"You have once chance to tap out and use your safe word now, because I'm going to make sure you're left for hours on this bed without anyone to come in and stop what's going to happen." Oscar warns making her look at him. "But if you let it happen, this is the end of your punishment."

"Hours."

"I'll be back before the race. Only maybe two hours."

Just long enough to do whatever stuff the team demands of him, then disappear for some peace before the end of the season.

"Ok?" Oscar questions once everything is turned on and she is biting her lip harshly.

"Mmhm." Y/n nods swallowing thickly and clearing her throat.

"I'll be back soon."

Y/n does get a kiss goodbye and a wink before Oscar grabs his stuff and leaves, making sure the do not disturb sign is up.

The first orgasm is welcome. The second is pretty appreciated too, even if it's reigniting the soreness. The third runs on the thin line between pain and pleasure. The fourth she begins to feel regret seep in but it's bearable. The fifth and sixth thankfully take a bit longer to creep up on her.

After that the orgasm that follow or painful, her stomach tensing, her body coating in sweat and she doesn't even know how many she has in the finish.

By the time Oscar appears he rushes when he spots her and the state she's got to. Believe it or not, this is not the first or even the second time y/n's been left exactly like this. But he did taken longer than he initially expected so maybe one or two orgasms more than he'd thought she'd have is what he managed.

"Alright, baby. Ok. Ok. Breathe with me." He soothes feeling some pinches of guilt as she hyperventilates. Soaked from her cum and tears. "You're ok."

Her limbs are freed and she latches onto the man muttering and mumbling apologies through and between hiccups, her face hiding in her neck as she seeks out as much comfort as possible.

By some miracle he calms her down enough to get her into the shower for a clean up and after checking for time, he redresses them both, helps dry her hair.

"Do you want to stay here or come to the race?"

"Do I look ok?" Y/n murmurs knowing there's a good chance even after showering she could look like a complete mess.

"You look beautiful. Cleaned up well." Oscar assures her while she swallows thinking about how much she must've looked when he walked in. His cool and unbothered expression was very much panicked upon seeing her. "Don't make me do that again."

Y/n nods obediently before grinning when he turns and she manages to end up on his back, trying not to grimace from the pressure of her crotch.

She almost definitely will give him reason to do it again. That's why it's not the first time he's done it. But she won't be flirting with any of the other guys on the grid as the reason. She might act like a brat, but she does learn from her mistakes.

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luveline · 10 months

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel does everything he can to make you feel better after a civilian casualty steals your ‘sunshine’. —a fic featuring reluctantly adoring miguel and his sad spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 4k

cw character death, violence, reactive depression

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Miguel," you say, your voice grained by the communicator in his ear, "this universe is almost the same as mine, right?"

Miguel stares down at a Doc Ock variant you're staking out, lying in wait for the anomalistic antagonist to make his first move. He's trying desperately to maintain his focus but you have a nice voice, and you ask him with a confidence that betrays your total faith in him. You haven't considered that he might not know.

Well, Miguel does know. He's not sure he should start this discussion and distract you, but he has trouble saying no to you in any capacity, so he does.

"I don't know every difference, but yeah, they're the same. Same geography, world leaders, roughly the same fast food chains." He bites his lip. He's at work, more than work —you're attempting to save an entire dimension, here— and he shouldn't feed the conversation anymore. But he knows you'll be interested in this. "Donuts aren't a thing, here."

"What?"

"They have donuts, but they aren't called donuts, and they're nowhere near as popular."

"This is a very strange way to flirt," Lyla says, her flickering hazed by a golden aura as she changes rapidly between laying on her front, legs kicking, and her back, as though she's in a therapist's daybed. She floats across his vision lazily.

"That's because I'm not," Miguel says.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing. Talking to Lyla."

"How come Lyla doesn't talk to me?" you ask sweetly.

Miguel can see you in the distance, your simple black suit like an ink splodge against the blue grey glass of the skyscraper you're standing on. Anchored with a web and your body tensed, you're perfectly parallel to the ground below, as though you're standing on the windows.

"It's not that I don't want to," Lyla promises. "Miggy won't let me."

"That is not true."

Projections cover Miguel's vision, powered by his favourite lying intelligence. Movements are mapped in a bright marigold yellow, though the net turns red to signify potential danger, chance percentages bouncing up and down. Doc Ock raises an arm and it turns an eye-straining red. He sits down on a park bench and his body turns yellow again. It's a smart program, but it can't account for everything.

"Something isn't right."

You hum appreciatively. "It feels weird, how he's acting. Like he's two separate people."

Doc Ock glitches hard, the air around him fractured by colours in varying depths, like a tangible, physical screen tone. They've been coming faster. He doesn't have much time before he begins to tear apart, and that tearing will prompt panic. Panic will prompt anger.

"What should we do?" you ask.

Miguel doesn't know. He regrets asking you to come with him, not that you aren't capable. When you first joined the Spider Society you'd hadn't been Spider-Girl in your own universe for very long, and you weren't particularly proactive. You were kind-hearted but lackadaisical, and after worming your way into his life, a flower budding between concrete slabs it shouldn't have the power to crack, (he seriously doesn't know how it happened, only that you'd been bringing him things, carefully wrapped foods and trinkets you'd made, your bad conversation, and suddenly you were worrying about him and doting on him in the strange way that you do, suddenly, he was doing the same), you decided you wanted to help. You've trained hard on Spider-led courses at the Society, improving your overall fitness, your stamina, your technique, to become the fighter you are now. You can hold your own well.

Miguel knows what motivated you. You want to look after him. You'd all but admitted to it. And that's why Miguel wishes he asked someone else to come with him, because you'll put yourself in harm's way as he would for you, to protect.

"Why did you want to know if this universe was the same?" he asks, the nano of his suit morphing over his hands, claws growing long and minaciously sharp.

"Oh! Because, I used to have these favourite cookies called Butter Leaves, but they stopped making them in my dimension 'cos of the Whey disease. Even when it was better, loads of companies couldn't come back…"

You give him the entire history. He already knows it. He tries to listen to you with the attention you deserve anyway, only he's weighed the options, and taking down Doc Ock feels much more important than listening to your cravings.

"They were really thin and they had this sweet coating brushed over the top. You'd like them, I think." Miguel drops the last hundred feet to the ground, ignoring the jarring heat in his ankles at such a landing without having rolled into it. "If they were a little softer and had some sugar they'd taste just like polvorones, Miguel."

"You could say that about lots of things," Miguel argues, tone measured as not to alert bystanders nearby of his presence.

"This doesn't feel like a good idea," Lyla says. Standing now, alert.

Miguel toggles the communicator so you can't hear him.

He wonders if you'd even notice him speaking over the intensity of your excitement, "I know it's not professional but maybe we could go and look? After we beat the bad guy. They're more than worth it, I swear," you say hopefully.

"It's fine," he says to Lyla, throwing out a hand, shins braced and ready to burst into a tackle.

"It feels off, you both said it."

"It always feels off. He's in the wrong dimension, his presence caused a shift. The wrongness is unavoidable, like the body–"

"Rejecting an organ transplant," Lyla says. "I know. You say it constantly."

"If you know, why are you asking?" he asks, deadpan.

"Good to know your girlfriend can ask questions and I can't. You're a trailblazer for equality, O'Hara."

Not my girlfriend, he thinks, but he isn't sure how true that is. Miguel realigns his eyesight, the holographic netting that pinpoints anomalistic stress a menacing red where it maps Doc Ock's limbs. The colours are abrasive against the yellow-green leaves fluttering in the breeze to the grass below, trees like arms stretched toward one another standing behind the simple brown bench where Doc Ock murmurs drunken-sounding ravings.

Miguel's fangs slice through gum and lock into place. He tries not to salivate. The paralysing agent produced gives him a numb tongue.

Miguel attempts to work quickly. Approach the target. Lock the target in. Incapacitate. He rears back and takes a deep breath.

"Wait! Behind! Behind you, Miguel, there's something behind you!"

He twists backward without hesitation and swings his arm around a cold neck. He squeezes hard, hears a metallic crunch similar to a mortar and pestle, but the person in his chokehold isn't a person, it's a robot.

"Octobots!" Lyla shouts.

"HELPFUL!" Miguel shouts back, grunting as a robotic arm curves around his back, and then a second, a third.

The hills of his muscles strain against white-lacquered steel, a sweat breaking at the back of his neck as he groans, desperate to stop the octobot from crushing his arms to a powder. He can practically hear the creaking of his humerus.

Around him, civilians scatter, screaming for their lives as a small horde of octobots descends on the park. Doc Ock doesn't react to the chaos. He sits there muttering to himself as people run past him and his octobots play cat and mouse. Miguel finally snaps the arms off the robot holding him with a pissed grunt, punching the carcass of machinery away from him while you tuck and roll from a dive to the ground. In an impressive show of your improvement and coordination, you throw out a web as you roll and hit Doc Ock square in the face, a second binding his chest to the bench. You spring to your feet, shooting at bots one after another. You must take down six by the time he's gathered his bearings.

"On your left," Lyla says. Miguel smashes a bot at the apex of its white body and she laughs. "Nice. Behind."

Miguel falls into the fight as though it's a well-practised dance. With the stress maps locked on, quick-thinking, and Lyla's pointed direction, Miguel can decapitate or incapacitate each bot swiftly as long as they don't get a hold on him like the first one managed.

You're like Lyla in that a good skirmish seems to set you off —you're giggling, cheering, enjoying yourself much more than you should be. "This is just like that video game," you say, leaping onto a moving octobot and shooting webbing at the joints, gumming them up until they can't move. "With the girl and her super powered puppy, you know that one?"

"Of course I don't know that one." Miguel brings his claws down into the aluminium shell of an octobot as it swipes your legs from under you and tears it in two. It cracks like a halved apple, the gore of its inside sparking and smoking as it hits the ground in tandem with you. Your head whacks hard into the concrete pathing beneath. He doesn't have time to help you.

The arm of a bot races forward like a stinger. This one must be the head of the hive, the Queen bee so to speak, far more complicated than the others in the plating of her ivory bodice and chain-mail like shielding on her arms.

Miguel swears under his breath and vaults at it.

He pulls your droid feed up in his display, watches you writhe from one side and the other as your pained moans play in his ear. You clamber onto wobbly footing as Miguel descends, the screeching cry of metal while it's shorn apart beneath his hands not half as loud as your useless gasping —you're winded, likely concussed.

"Civilian entering range," Lyla says.

"What? Where?"

Lyla has your drone's camera spin on the spot to show Miguel the civilian stupid enough to enter an active fight zone. They aren't stupid at all, it figures, but unaware. A man in activewear jogs the beaten path with headphones in, eyes to the ground. He stops for a moment to look at his sports watch, and like the octobot can tell, it shakes Miguel like a bothersome flea and surges for him.

You're closest.

"Y/N!" Miguel shouts, knowing it's too late before he so much as closes his mouth. You turn, your head braced in your hand, breathing hard with pain. Miguel would take it back if he could.

You can't save the civilian, but you can watch him die.

—

People look at him like he's a ghost, sometimes. Wide-eyed, horrified, they move aside in the halls. They treat him how he feels on his worst days, like someone who should've died a long time ago. Today, things are different.

No less than three Peter Parker' have stopped to stare at him unabashedly. Nearly all make the same jokes, Late for a date?

He'd honestly prefer feeling like a ghost. He can't deal with their derision and he doesn't want to, ignoring their looks and their judgement as he treks to the elevator that's gonna drop him outside of the medbay. The only person he wouldn't mind poking fun at him is you.

You aren't in the mood.

Miguel doesn't acknowledge your prone form at first. He walks to your bedside table to deposit the bouquet he'd chosen, peonies for good health and strength, swapping old for new, changing the water in your small shared sink. He may orchestrate the Spider Society, but Miguel's special privileges can't reduce the extreme turnover rate of the medbay. You have curtains to partition the room for privacy, and you got the bed by the window, and that's as much as he could get you. You deserve better.

Miguel opens the window to drown out the smell of antiseptic. He stands in front of it, his shadow stretching over your twisted hip. You're not sleeping, you're resting. Doctor's orders.

Miguel wishes you'd deign to rest in your own bed, or his, but you're a little too catatonic for a safe discharge either way.

He sighs quietly. You likely hear it with your enhanced senses and still you remain an impassive lump under your blue hospital blanket.

"Good morning," he says, instead of the thousand other things he wants to say, that he's too much of a coward to ask. "Let's get up."

He doesn't give you any choice about it. Starting slow, Miguel rounds the bed to meet your eyes through your sluggish blinking. Perhaps you'd been more asleep than he thought.

Gentle, Miguel peels down your blankets enough to push his hands under your armpits. He pulls you up into a sitting position, and it —it breaks his heart. He's a monolith, he's hurting, he has years and years of loss and grief behind him and it doesn't matter, it finds him again. His heart breaks at your limblessness and your willingness to be positioned like a paper doll.

Miguel arranges the sad pillow behind you and puts the remote for the adjustable bed frame in your hand. The last time you'd been here in the medbay after a training exercise fractured your ulna, you'd spent pretty much the entire time messing around with your bed, even as they crafted your cast. It made for messy work. Miguel must've told you to quit it fifty times.

Your fingers curl around the remote.

Miguel perches on the mattress on one knee to fix the protective style your hair is in. Nothing serious, just smoothing the tiniest of stray hairs and making sure it's still comfortable. He strokes your temple absentmindedly, checking you over one feature at a time. Tired eyes, nose tip looking parched, your lips chapped. Frowning, he sits properly, and he pulls your big hospital bag from the bedside table, his hand falling to your wrist to say, Hey, I'm here, and I'm not going far.

He finds your smaller bag of toiletries and necessities and unzips it. He tries not to think about the last time he had to take care of someone like this as he cleans your face with a wet wipe, two fingers wrapped in the wipe and petting at your skin carefully. He notices the life returning to you inchingly, his touch a tether you're pulling on, so he prolongs his actions. He smooths moisturiser over your face extra slowly. If you asked why, he could say it's cold, but you don't ask.

Your face shiny in the sunshine filtering in through the wide windows, you almost look like yourself again.

"Are you hungry?"

You shake your head. An almost imperceptible gesture.

"This is why you don't feel well," he says. "You're not eating enough."

"That's not why," you say.

He aches to hear your voice. I know, he thinks, but doesn't say.

"Eat something," he says.

You shake your head again. He managed to bring you back and squash you back down in less than a minute. He really doesn't like himself, at that moment. Often, but especially now. He's failing you. He failed you with the octobots and he's failing you now.

Miguel refuses to fail someone he cares about again.

He takes the remote for your bed and lifts the top section so you can sit back comfortably. He shakes the blankets out over you, and he puts away your things. Hopeful, Miguel places new pyjamas and underwear with your shower caddy at the end of the bed and pulls a strict pose, hands crossed over his chest.

"I need to go. Shower, eat breakfast when it comes. Please."

You give him a look that might mean Yes but probably doesn't mean anything, laying down as much as the bed allows and turning your face from him toward the flowers. Miguel leaves, stopping a ways away to look back, and watches through the gap of your curtains as you reach out to touch the flowers he'd brought. Your pinky finger is less than an inch from the petals when your movement stutters, your hand falling back to your chest with a soft thud. You close your eyes.

When Miguel returns, he's thankful to find you've done as he told you. Showered, changed, a discarded breakfast tray at your feet. You've attempted the oatmeal and left the toast to go cold, congealed butter white against golden yellow.

Miguel swaps the tray for his bags. He's hoping you might be tempted to look while he's gone. He knows before you would've known the entire contents of the open bag by the time he'd left the room, but he returns having taken your tray to the rack and is sorely disappointed.

That's fine, he decides. You don't have to look. He doesn't mind laying things out for you.

First port of call: extra pillows. He pulls the plastic wrapped 'hotel pillows' up onto your sheet and tears the plastic. They pop out. He didn't think for pillow cases, so he slides them behind your hospital pillow and pushes you down by the shoulders, not cruel but not particularly gentle —you actually laugh at his handling. He bites back a smile.

"What, you got me presents?" you ask as he dumps a blanket onto your lap. It's one of those soft, shiny fleece ones patterned with those characters you love so much, the girl and her super powered puppy.

You rub your hands over it appreciatively and spread it out over your legs. "What's that mean?" he asks, pointing at the Chinese characters, '超級汪汪!'.

"Chāojí wāngwāng!" you cheer, an impression missing the majority of your usual pep. "Super woof. It's his level five power up. He yaps and Joyce gets her HP back."

Miguel pretends to know, like he'd forgotten, and you're reminding him. "Ah."

You're watching now, interested. He puts his back between you and the bag and you whine weakly, "Miguel."

"What? You think these are for you?"

"Please, I want to see."

He gives in like a cheap tent, passing you a packet of pearly beads for your bracelet making, skeins of variegated thread that change colours, a packet of pencils with frogs on the lids, a plushie. You don't know how to react and Miguel doesn't know what to say. He honestly doesn't want to say anything, vulnerability stopped being his thing a while ago, but he clears his throat. "Do you know what I look like in the middle of Miniso? Picture it."

Miniso being a Chinese home goods store lined floor to ceiling with plushies.

You laugh weirdly. Miguel knows it's guilt holding you back.

"One last thing." He sits down on the bed next to you, hands big enough to cover the box in its entirety. "You were wrong, by the way. Extremely wrong, these don't taste a thing like polvorones."

He passes you the box. You take it into steady hands, smiling widely, your thumb brushing up against the black cursive font. A box of butter leaves from one of your sister dimensions.

"I don't know if they'll taste like they did. Are they the same ones?"

You nod, loosing a breath between parted lips. "Same ones."

"If you don't eat them all, I won't get them for you again."

"That's so mean," you murmur. Miguel would apologise if he thought you meant it.

"That's how it is. Eat your cookies. I'll come back later to make sure you actually ate dinner."

He stands. You immediately grab him, cookies dropped in favour of braceleting his wrist in your warm fingers.

You look up at him through your lashes, a frown dampening your pretty features. At least, in his eyes.

"Please don't go," you say. Your eyebrows pinch together. It's even more heartbreaking than your catatonia, this pleading loneliness, like you think he won't stay.

"You have to talk to me," Miguel says. He softens at your chastised wince, sitting back down again. "Did you want a hug?" he asks.

It's an apology to offer it, though he should've asked you this morning, or yesterday, even the day before. You'd been inconsolable when it happened. Miguel's never seen you that way. Your sunshine shattered, your shoulders shaking under his hands as he led you away from the scene, he didn't hug you like he wanted to. It wouldn't have made a difference at the time. You couldn't speak. You could barely walk.

Seeing something like that happen leaves a mark, even if you've seen it before.

You sweep aside your gifts and twist your legs to climb onto your knees. Miguel hadn't realised how much you wanted to be close to him until you're bordering his lap, your arms sliding over his shoulders, your pyjamas soft and smelling of antiseptic under his nose. A switch flicks at your nearness. He pulls you into his lap and sandwiches you there, chest to chest, thankful for his stature because it means he can encapsulate you effortlessly. He can hide you from the world for a short while.

You choke him half to death.

"It's okay," he says, your back curved into the length of his forearm, leaning forward so you can take the weight off. "You're okay."

"I don't– it's not me. I'm not worried about me."

"It's over," he says. "What's done is done." Which isn't to say it isn't tragic, or that it didn't leave a permanent mark on the world. But you're punishing yourself for a crime you didn't commit.

"It's all my fault," you whisper, your cheek pressing to his shoulder, face hidden in the juncture of his neck.

He tilts his head toward you. "It's my fault. I jumped in. I wanted it to be quick."

"I let him…"

"You had a grade ii concussion, you didn't let anyone do anything. I'm lucky you didn't pass out right there. I'm lucky you had the ability to defend yourself, because I left you defenceless."

"No, you didn't, it–" You rub your cheek against his shoulder. "It happened really fast, you were making sure that bot didn't get me because I was stupid enough to leave myself open–"

"Stop it."

It's harsh enough to stop you in your tracks. Miguel sighs hard, hair blowing away from his face.

He lays down backward, skewiff on your bed, and pulls you with him in a secure but gentle hold. You make a quiet 'oof' as you go down. Apologetic yet again, Miguel rubs a line up and down your back, fingertips between your shoulders, palm flattening as he reaches the small of your back, your shirt inching up. He's sure you look foolish to anyone watching, but for once, he's past embarrassment.

"I don't want to hear you blaming yourself. It's not your fault."

You've twisted on your side on the mattress rather than crush his pelvis, though your chest remains pressed to his. You twist a strand of his dark hair around your finger. "Why did you bring me all this stuff?" you ask softly.

"To make you feel better."

"But why… do you… want that? Why does it matter that much, that you'd waste time going to get me things?"

"Why do you think?" he asks.

Your lips ghost the column of his throat. "Mm… 'cos you're nicer than you let on."

"Wrong."

You laugh again. He's more grateful than he'd ever say aloud.

"Because you care about me too much."

Too much is right. He feels like he's at the stern of the universe's most important ship. The universes, plural. That ship is heading square for an iceberg, for the precipice of a gargantuan whirlpool, and there's nothing Miguel can do but hand out buckets and veer sharply to the left, hoping it will be enough, knowing deep down that it won't be if something doesn't give soon. And he's lived a life, two lives, before he even met you. He's tired. He doesn't want to lose anyone else, and he hoped he could do that by never caring again.

What a stupid hope.

"I just want you to feel like yourself again," he admits.

"I really wanted to save him."

"You can't save everyone."

He knows better than most.

"I know," you say, no tears left to cry, voice impossibly small.

Miguel wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for a long, long time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed! please think about reblogging if you liked it, I appreciate it <3

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riding-the-sunset-bird · 3 months

Text

I was in a Baxter mood today so I went swimming in GB Patch's blog for all the Baxter facts:

General

His personality, at least defined by GB Patch, is that he's sheltered and out-of-touch without being elitist or self-centered. He's preppy/posh, quite sociable, and hates conflict, but likes to go against what's expected of him. He grows out of being such a rich kid trust fund baby by Step 4.

His parents are bigots. He's the unlucky one in a sea of characters with supportive parents.

He has a distant French origin.

His birthday is the day his DLC came out, meaning May 19th.

He's 5'11" (180cm) in Step 4 (this was apparently reconfirmed on the Our Life Discord as well).

His natural hair color - a dark dusty gray that he hates - is uncommon to be born with (as opposed to aged into) in the Our Life universe.

Childhood

His dream job as a child was to get into investments, having a strong portfolio with diverse assets (he does not fully know what that means at the time).

He's a late bloomer.

Baxter's crush on Qiu from Our Life 2 is at its peak when he's 12 and 13 (13 being his age in Our Life 2's Step 1), but he's moving on by 14 (when he can potentially meet the MC in Soiree).

He met Qiu at their local dance hall (as they both took lessons there, just in different forms of dance) and also met Ren/Renee (Darren in Our Life 2's Step 1) through Qiu, as the two had known each other since they were very young.

He wasn't thrown off by his crush on Qiu despite Qiu being a boy, as Qiu was popular and it seemed "unfair" to Baxter not to be able to like him. He puts more thought into it as he grows older and what it means, deciding that he'll feel however he'll feel and not worry about what's expected of him. In Soiree, the MC can notice this if they're male or non-binary, as Baxter isn't bothered by dancing with someone who isn't female.

Abilities (or Lack Thereof)

He's a weak swimmer. He can swim fine in pools but would probably struggle in the ocean.

He can sing.

He's experienced in multiple types of dance (though his favorite is the waltz).

Step 3 Baxter is a lazy, bad cook who doesn't even want to bother with cooking, but Step 4 Baxter takes an interest in trying more fancy/restaurant-style food and is able to do so.

Likes/Dislikes

He likes things being clean, but isn't always motivated enough to maintain that.

He liked video games when he was a kid, leaning towards action/adventure ones, though doesn't anymore in his late teens and beyond. He would play life-based games (such as the Sims series) with the MC if asked, however, either playing innocent like he didn't know what he was doing while messing around with the characters or being blatantly obvious about it.

He doesn't like dancing in clubs/discos. He would try it once because he enjoys trying different types of dance, but would only go regularly if he had a friend/partner who liked going to such places.

He would absolutely approve of an MC who chooses to only wear black and white.

Romantic Inclinations

Beyond his crush on Qiu (who he never confessed to), Baxter dates people, but never for long or seriously.

The reason he backs out of asking out the MC if they say that he's their first crush (unless the MC is referring to his Soiree self) is that he feels they have idealized feelings for him and he'd disappoint them. He essentially panics, not wanting to get the MC's hopes up and especially on their very first feelings of romance.

The best way to romance him is to Not Let Him Escape.

When it comes to what he's attracted to in another person, he likes seeing nail polish, false lashes/heavy mascara/naturally long eyelashes, and full suits (especially if they're expertly tailored).

His love language in terms of receiving is Quality Time, but in terms of giving, he will happily adapt to whatever the MC wants.

Clothing Choices

When it comes to Step 4 Baxter's personal dress code, he's always meeting/formal ready (even when not working) unless he's doing anything athletic, in which case the button-downs get a break.

- Likewise, his closet is basically all button-downs and fancy suits with a few exceptions including clothes suited for the cold.

Assorted

He immediately finds the MC and Cove appealing (not necessarily crushing on them) at the start of Step 3 as "beautiful beach strangers."

He'd be flattered to hear from an MC that they love his laugh/find it charming.

He says "hallelujah" because he's pretentious.

He doesn't know French, but does occasionally drop a French word he knows during Step 3 to "add to his formal flair." His Step 4 self considers it embarrassing in hindsight.

During the wedding in Baxter's Step 4, he will have Jude send along a vegan cupcake to the MC if they're vegan.

Semi-revealed during one of his mornings with the MC in Step 4, he has a multi-step daily skincare routine.

His Future

He has no preference over who he'd prefer to be the one to propose to the other in his relationship with the MC.

He would absolutely want to plan his own wedding (whether for or with the MC, depending on whether they want to be involved). He would not want another planner included.

He doesn't have a preference when it comes to last names during a wedding. He's just in awe that he's marrying someone at all.

He might consider having facial hair at some point in his life.

When it comes to having kids, he doesn't have any particular age he'd prefer to have them and is more of a "when it feels right" kind of guy. In terms of the number of kids, none is his default but he'd prefer to have two if the MC wants them, as he finds the relationship between the MC and Liz to be lovely and was personally lonely as an only child.

🍋 (below are asks that might be considered risqué - especially going to the posts themselves on some - but I wanted to include them for the sake of having all the information in one place; know that me and my prudish nature pushed through this for the people who want it and I hope you appreciate it! >:o) 🍋

This one definitely goes without saying due to being a love interest in a game where the MC can be she/they/he even down to being intersex, but Baxter is pansexual.

Baxter isn't good at being sexually active beyond being with an MC who wants that. He tries to bond with others but either fails to have his interest reciprocated due to being too forward or backtracks if he senses that someone is actually into him. His relationships are short/inconsistent for that reason.

He would never sleep with the MC during Step 3. He's already planning on leaving and wouldn't risk souring the relationship at any point even if the MC would want it. He wants company more than he wants sex and would not want to be remembered as the guy who slept with the MC and then just left without contacting them again.

Between chests and backsides, Baxter prefers the latter.

Baxter is a top (though is flexible on the matter), is into BDSM, and "kind of" has a sir kink.

#olba #our life #our life: beginnings & always #baxter ward

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static-radio-ao3 · 3 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic // february 7 // prompt: star // words: 1,416 // cw: referenced sexual content // part 1 + part 3

“So let me get this straight,” Barty says, pacing in front of the couch where Regulus is sitting with his back straight and his hands tucked between his knees. “You sucked off your ex in the bathroom, picked a fight with him because he wanted to return the favor, ended up hooking up with him and staying the night, and now you’re telling me he texted you?”

Barty ticked off every point he made, a full five fingers now held up in front of Regulus' face. Five offenses. Regulus fights to maintain eye contact but his resolve crumbles under Barty's unyielding stare. Barty Crouch Junior, a force of nature. If only he'd use his powers for good.

“That would be correct,” Regulus says after a moment of silence.

“And his name in your phone is do not fucking respond.”

“That would also be correct.”

“And what did you do?”

“I responded.” Regulus at least has the decency to hang his head in shame. He remembers how long it took his friends to piece him back together in the aftermath of Hurricane James.

Barty sighs, bone-deep and long-suffering. He pinches the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand and turning to face Regulus again. “Follow-up question: were you dropped on your head as an infant?”

Regulus perks up at that, because “Well—”

“Don’t answer that,” Barty says, voice clipped. “God, Regulus. Gold star for being a fucking idiot.”

“In my defense,” Regulus starts. He doesn't continue though. Lets the silence stretch until there is no give anymore. Barty cocks an impatient eyebrow. “He looked really good,” Regulus finishes lamely. A red flush crawls up his neck and Regulus is sure it makes the mottled bites and bruises on his skin stand out even more.

Barty stops pacing to shoot Regulus an incredulous look. “That’s such a bad excuse? He always looks good? If you’re gonna be dropping to your knees as soon as he's within a two-mile radius, just— don’t.”

“But—”

And really, Regulus isn’t sure why he’s about to argue. He absolutely should be kept away from James at all times and he’d been so good at it for a while, but then. Well. Before he gets a chance to argue though, Barty cuts him off again.

“Don't make me call Pandora. She will bring the list.”

That does shut Regulus up. A huge file with an annotated bibliography and an itemized list of why Regulus should stay away from James. They had used it against him before and it worked every time. This time though, he didn’t want his weaknesses pointed out to him just yet.

“Fine. I won't talk to James anymore.”

---

“And then you have the fucking audacity to text me?” Regulus asks, incredulity bleeding into his voice. James seems unbothered by it though, hip cocked against the kitchen counter and arms crossed over his chest.

“Would you rather I call you?” He asks.

Regulus whirls on him. “No! I'd rather you not reach out to me at all!”

“See, once again, I am finding that hard to believe.” James pushes himself off the counter and steps closer to Regulus. “Did celibacy make a liar out of you? Or did I fuck you so good you forgot all the things you said last night?” He keeps his voice low as he says it, but Regulus hears it loud and clear. He shifts under James’ sharp gaze. Eyes lazily tracking the way Regulus moves.

“I'm not fucking lying. Last night was a mistake,” Regulus lies. Because that’s what he does now. Apparently.

“Technically two,” James says. He bites his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes stuck on one of the many bruises littering Regulus’ neck.

Regulus doesn’t need the reminder, he can feel the bites and bruises sting with every turn of his head. Hands pressed palm to palm and the two of them chest to chest. A leg between Regulus’ own and his voice so wrecked he didn’t realize it was his at first. James, softened by the low light in the room, all his sharp edges blurring into pleasure. The hum of a moan into the heated skin of his neck.

“Technically three,” Regulus murmurs, eyes getting hazy, but he catches himself a second later, straightening. “But that's not what we're talking about!”

“Isn’t it?” James cocks his head. A lazy smirk pulls at James’ lips. The sight makes something simmer hot in Regulus’ gut. “We seem awful good at making mistakes. Maybe they're not mistakes at all.”

“All of this was a mistake! From the beginning! We shouldn't have hooked up and we shouldn't have dated and none of this should've fucking happened. Not last night, not last year, none of it.” Regulus takes a heaving breath. Considers saying more, but then James cuts in with:

“Are you done?”

“What?”

“I asked if you were done.”

“I— Yeah. I guess.”

James takes a step closer again, boxing Regulus in against the table. He presses his palms down on the flat surface, one on each side of Regulus’ hips. He has to look up a bit to be able to look James in the eye when they’re this close. He always liked it.

“You know what, that would've hurt my feelings if I believed you. Although I guess I do think this was a mistake. In a way.”

The feeling of James’ breath hitting the side of his neck makes Regulus shiver. James dips down for the barest, briefest moment and drags his lips along the column of Regulus’ neck, tracing the path he laid out the night before. It takes Regulus a second to realize what James just said, too caught up in his closeness to register the words. He isn't prepared for the way that statement makes him feel, a sharp pang in his chest and a dull ache all the way down his fingertips. He curls them into fists, keeps them resolutely in his lap. But before he has a chance to react, James continues.

“See, I think we never should've broken up. Mistake number one.” James takes the smallest of steps backward just to be able to raise his pointer finger. Regulus misses the heat instantly. “And I think you shouldn't have left this morning. Mistake number two.” He raises a second finger. “And you know what they say about mistakes.”

He glances at Regulus thoughtfully, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

“Don't fucking make them?” Regulus asks.

“All good mistakes come in threes,” James corrects, a third finger now being held up.

“No one says that.”

“Maybe they should.”

“No, James,” Regulus shakes his head and leans back, putting some distance between himself and James. Or trying to, at least. “This is a bad idea and we both know it.”

James just leans into him more. Regulus goes a little cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. His focus is drawn to James’ lips instead. He remembers them pink and bitten. Stretched wide, spit clicking the corners.

“Come on, baby,” James hedges. “No more mistakes. Just me and you. And I'll be so good for you, good to you, I swear.”

His voice is molten honey, hot and sweet, and it sticks to Regulus’ skin like a physical thing.

And Regulus only has so much resolve. He unclenches his fists, allowing himself to reach out and touch. But the smooth fabric of James’ sweater is a poor substitute for the thing he really craves. It buzzes in his veins, a steady hum that's getting increasingly harder to ignore. There is no alcohol in his system to blur the lines he'd once drawn, he steps over them with his eyes wide open.

“You're addicting, you know that?” Regulus murmurs, mouth a few scant inches from James’. “Just can't fucking quit you. You and your Jamesness.”

Before James can reply, Regulus curls a hand over James’ throat and tugs him into a kiss. The buzzing in his veins quiets immediately, satisfaction rushing through them instead. It’s heady, kissing James again, even though it’s only been a couple of hours since their last kiss. James really is addicting. And Regulus is a weak, weak man.

---

is that a phone in your pocket or are you happy to see me [group • 4 members]

reg: hey guys....

evan: you're an embarrassment

barty: @panda send the fuckinf list

pandora: reasons why regulus should keep his dick in his pants and out of his ex [file type: PDF • 53 pages]

#messy exes jegulus: even messier #idk why they broke up but pls lmk if you have ideas #barty said regulus protection squad #james just said whore.#anyways!! for kara bc i probably would've let it be if she hadn't been so excited about the snippy <33 #i hope you enjoy <33 #i know it's a few days behind the 6th but!! i liked star #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #jegulus #jegulus microfic #mil's microfics #mil's writing #my writing

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cannellee · 6 months

Text

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! Kazutora x omega! Reader (smut)

— alpha kazutora's out of jail and he only wants one thing from his omega<3 (basically just sex)

cw: rough sex, blowjob (m!receiving), facefuck, cum swallow, light face slapping, name calling...

(I hesitated a lot before posting. it's my first time writing full smut, I read a lot of it but I'm not necessarily confident in writing it as it feels a bit awkward😭 but I had this idea and thought I had to share it! feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you'll like it!!🫶🏼)

my masterlist : ☆

imagine a fresh out of prison kazutora, who doesn't expect anything when he crosses the border of the prison.

he'll probably go to his place, it's been a long time since he's been there, he should do a lot of cleaning first.

but then you appear like an angel, wide smile and innocent puppy eyes, welcoming your criminal of an alpha. but you don't care what kazutora is, you've been waiting for him for so long, and you missed him and his touch so bad.

you're so desperate for him you couldn't even cum on your own without thinking about him. his absence felt heavy all this time and you're so happy he's finally here.

now you're bringing him to his place that you've been cleaning and maintaining like a good partner would. you already prepared a warm meal beforehand for him and kazutora has a hard time keeping a poker face.

of course he didn't forget you all this time, he's only been thinking about the day when he could finally get his hands back on his pretty omega.

and now you've even cooked for him when everyone else has most likely forgotten about his release. you're the perfect omega for him, absolutely submissive and loving to take care of your alpha.

kazutora is beaming and his hands are soon enough grabbing the flesh of your thighs, biting and licking every parcel of you exposed skin.

he's so fucking horny and you can sense it by the way his musk and pheromones are embalming the air. you're basically breathing nothing else but the smell of his arousal. and his pheromones, oh you don't think you've missed something more than his strong pheromones. they always made you feel dizzy and never lost a chance to remind you of your place.

and today as well, your alpha hasn't felt the touch of an omega for so long, it's only right as his omega that you submit yourself to his desire. and it's not like it bothers you either way, you're so eager to please, to prove to him that you can still satisfy him in ways others can't.

this is why you drop to your knees without him having to utter a single word. and without wasting time, you hastily unzip his pants and let his powerful pheromones hit your nose even harder. you take his big cock into your mouth, not even caring about the noises nor the mess you're making. kazutora likes it more when you're covered in spit anyways. so you suck and lick and kiss every inch of his cock, swallowing his whole length when he asks you to. the face you make when your pink lips are stretched by his aching cock, contrasting with your big doe eyes, any ounce of purity gone, all of this makes him want to ruin you.

kazutora doesn't last long before pounding into your throat, your gags being the only noise you both can hear beside his breathy moans. when you hear his soft praises, of how much of a good little slut you are, you can't help but want to please him further. you begin to fuck your face on his cock, your nose hitting his pelvis every thrust of your head and your nostrils only breathing in the smell of his musk.

your eyes are so wet, you can't see a thing anymore. there's a pool forming between your legs that's begging for relief, but you ignore it the best you can, focusing on your alpha's pleasure instead. and when kazutora proceeds to grab a fist full of your hair and go even harder on your throat, you're sure you can see stars.

you barely have any chance to breath and your jaw is aching so much, still you don't move an inch, your instincts fully satisfied knowing you're serving your alpha just like should.

and kazutora needed exactly that, your compliance and will to do basically anything to satiate his desires. and he swears he would go back to prison any day if it meant being able to use your throat as a flesh light each time as a welcome back.

you can feel his release is soon by the way he's clenching your hair even rougher it almost hurts. your eyes are rolled in the back of your skull and your mind is solely focused on his pleasure. everytime he hit the back of your throat with more power your gags are getting louder and louder. with his cock getting bigger and harder, you tighten your lips around it with more care and make use of your tongue expertly.

he finally grabs your head and grants you with a long and loud growl, he pushes your head and makes it meet his stomach, you make sure to swallow everything he's giving you, sitting still like the obedient omega you are. his salty cum is flowing down your throat and you're not sure when he's going to stop.

kazutora is very pleased and when he finally lets you get some air you're gasping and spit is drooling down your chin like a dumb puppy. your lazy eyes and lolled out tongue are kazutora's favourite and if he wasn't this tired already he would make good use of your sluty ass to cum a second time.

but he considers it as enough of a good round an lets you go, not without making sure you've swallowed every drop he's offered you first.

he scoops the little drops which went down your neck when you tried to catch your breath and gives it to you. he calls you a good girl and spits in your mouth to let you know you did a good job sucking him off and you're sucking eagerly at his sperm covered fingers, too dumb to understand a word he's saying anyways.

you watch him pull his pants back up and you feel a comfortable sense of inferiority being the only one looking so messy. and kazutora must feel it too because the next thing you know he's slapping you softly on the face and pulling you up with a warm smile across his face. taking care of you after a good session makes his alpha happy.

you're glad you could be of use to him and you find yourself purring loudly when he holds you in his big arms, covering you with his scent you oh so love.

after bathing you and cleaning you up, he's tucking you inside the nest you made beforehand. your throat is sore but you find the strength in yourself to chirp happily, kazutora's heart go crazy at the sound he loves so much. he can't feel anything but pure bliss and he owes it all to you, his delicate and perfect omega<3

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bo0tleg · 2 months

Text

GEMS MY FRIEND SAID WATCHING 'TOP GUN: MAVERICK' FOR THE FIRST TIME:

"The jacket! The famous jacket that pulls women, pulls men, pulls the world!"

"Oh look how hot~ he looks on that motorcicle. He's even pracing his ass!"

(Maverick, on screen: "Well... He's not here yet.") The mans madness has begun."

"MAVERICK DON'T DIE YOU STILL NEED TO HAVE YOUR GAY ROMANCE!"

"He lasted two months at Top Gun? HA. He probably was a bigger piece of work than the students."

"From what I can tell, Maverick tamed Iceman. In the first one he was the little annoying bitch and Maverick saw a challenge."

"I mean, at least these two (Penny and Mav) have chemistry. They hooked up in a plane, after all."

"Iceman solves his problems, Iceman keeps his job, what a simp. That's dog behavior."

"Maverick doesn't look likes he's flirting with her, he's just confused. His confused face looks like his flirting face, and people assume. I know this because people do it to me."

"Yeah, he's kinda like that one Olívia Rodrigo song that she gets confused when she sees her ex... What was it again?" ('bad Idea right?' by Olivia Rodrigo)

"I like him (Bob)! He's pathetic like me!"

"Oooohhh they're (Phoenix and Bob) gonna be besties! I can feel it."

(When Phoenix racks Rooster with the cue) "OHOHOHOOOO I LIKE HER ALREADY."

(Didn't notice Hangman taking Bob's cue, I relayed the information) "Aaaahhh don't steal Bob's cue. Bob's cool, Bob's nice."

(After rewinding the scene) "NO, NO, NO! WHO IS THAT? NOBODY CAN STEAL BOB'S CUE! I don't like him (Hangman)."

(Hangman, on screen: Bradshaw! As I live and breathe!) *Slowly turns towards me with dead eyes*

"That's not enemies to lovers, that's just enemies."

"With just this scene, I can tell this guy (Hangman) comes and goes. 'Sometimes I flirt with you, sometimes I hate you.' He's like a tsudere."

"Oh, got it. Phoenix is adopted into the man's group. She's a bro."

"I wouldn't say that they're his support system, but those two are the people that know him the best. Hangman is paying attention because he wants to be the best and needs to defeat Rooster. Phoenix is demonstrating a more sibling like worry."

"Hondo is like Mavericks babysitter."

"Oh. Oh, now Mav's flirting with her."

(Following the 'Baby on Board' comment) "Don't talk shit about Bob! I don't like Hangman."

"Maverick is like a step father to Rooster. Not in the 'HAHA I FUCKED YOUR MOM' kind of way, but in the way that he helped raise him."

"Where is Iceman? I'm here for the two of them, I don't give a fuck about Aeronautics."

"I think Ice and Maverick had a long relationship, but they're not together anymore. They maintained a friendship, but their lives probably went in different directions. I'd say they were together for 10, maybe 20 years."

('I ain't worried' by OneRepublic starts playing) "This song is from 2022? OH MY GOD THE SCENE"

"DON'T PLAY AROUND WITH GRANDPA!"

*Started chanting "BOB! BOB! BOB!" When he got picked up*

*Eeriely quiet during the bird strike, until Maverick starts talking to Rooster* "OH THEY'RE NOT DEAD. THEY COULDN'T HAVE KILLED BOB! IF THEY KILLED BOB I WOULD STOP AND NEVER WATCH TOP GUN EVER AGAIN!"

"Definitely 20 years. Ice is probably the only person Mav actually loved. Like, not a fling?" "Yeah, probably." "He's been with lots of women, and men, but Iceman is the only person he was ever in love with– maybe still is."

"I think his (Ice's) wife knows. That's probably why she recognizes Mav and is kind of friends with him." "That's probably why she just let him go up to see Ice." "YEAH GO AHEAD, FUCK MY HUSBAND!"

"It's pretty easy to notice that Snowman– No, ICEman."

"That is the face of a man who just lost the love of his life."

"Damn, the mans a beast. If It was me I'd already have cried, alone, in a room absolutely destroyed, never to come out again."

"He's got nobody, dude! I just want his step child to come back, because If he doesn't that man's gonna kill himself!"

"Why does it always have to have a romantic ending. Just leave him with his adoptive son. Go away."

"They (Penny and Mav) aren't going to end up together."

"I have a theory! Fanboy is obsessed with women! Cus he's 'Fanboy'." "But wouldn't he be called Simp, then?" "Ah, then he's obsessed with men." "... simp can be for men too."

"There's gonna be a Top Gun Three? Who's it gonna be about? It ain't gonna be Maverick, that man has a foot in the grave already."

"Bob is my favorite in the second movie. I have no favorites in the first one because everybody is very macho and very gay, and that's boring."

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mouschiwrites · 2 months

Note

the creeps!!

how about... creeps x reader who is having a ptsd response due to something/someone from their before life?

your choice!

EEE thank you for giving me a little freedom with this one hehe, you're a doll <33 (hope these are okay; I realize these aren't exactly "comforting" but these guys are messed up,, I don't think you can really expect comfort from them lol)

!!TW!! for depiction/mention of PTSD! Proceed with caution lovelies!!

Creepypasta/MH: How They React When Your PTSD is Triggered

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, "Ticci" Toby, Tim/Masky

Jeff the Killer

I'm going to be so real with you, his first response is not going to be to comfort you

He is going to kill whoever triggered you, or burn it if it's not a person

You can try to stop him, but he's not going to

Honestly he might lowkey be making it worse, doing it right there and then with you watching

Well, he'll probably tell you to close your eyes and plug your ears first

(But if you want to participate, he'll just say: "let me do this for you, babe.")

All you'll know is that one minute it's/they're there, and the next Jeff is taking you by the shoulders and leading you away quickly

Just ignore the char/blood on his hoodie

He'll ask if you want to talk about it while you're walking

If you decline he'll ask again when you're back home

While he doesn't really need a reason to kill for you, he still wants to know what that scumbag did (or just what happened)

If you're mad at him for what he did, he's not going to care

In his eyes, he did the right thing, and he's not going to apologize for it

Anything that hurts his love deserves to perish, if not for their sake then for his

He can't stand the thought of someone/something that makes you unhappy existing in this world

If you ever stress about it again, he will actually focus on you, holding you, consoling you by repeating "they're/it's gone, they/it won't hurt you anymore..."

There's an eerie smugness to his voice as he says it...

Clockwork

I feel like you guys would've already talked about your trauma

She's prone to attacks too, so it was a mutual discussion about triggers/what helps/what doesn't

So she knows exactly what's going on when you're triggered

Her first concern is you, trying to quell the attack before it gets too bad

She'll do something you told her helps ASAP

It'll make her feel better if you let her stay with you, but she understands if you need space

What she'd really like is to hold your hand and get your mind off of it by talking about something else

She'd be fine if she was the only one talking

Just as long as you're showing signs of improvement

When the attack is over, she'll give you time to process it

But eventually she will want to bring it up again

Specifically, she wants to make plans to... uh... "eliminate" the thing that triggered you

And those plans will be vividly detailed

If you don't want to take part in that, she'll make them (and execute them) herself

She just thought you'd wanna take part; I mean, it's how she """solved""" her trauma

She won't follow through if you explicitly tell her not to, but otherwise she operates under the assumption that this is a plan, not a fantasy

When you have another attack, she won't talk about how it/they can't hurt you anymore; she'll just focus on doing the things you said helped

Jane the Killer

She's pretty good at observing people, so I think she'd be able to sense your attack early on

Even if she doesn't know about your PTSD

The first thing she does is remove you from the situation, wrapping an arm around you and rushing away

She sends the meanest scowl to anyone who looks at you funny while you go

Then she focuses on grounding you; she's not too good with feelings, but she's logical enough to try and figure something out to help you

She won't talk much; just an occasional "breathe with me" or "focus on me" while she holds your hands and maintains eye contact

It doesn't show but she's actually so nervous, she has no idea if she's really helping you

She'll be right there with you through the worst of it, and she'll be there if you want to talk after

She will want to know what caused it, if she hasn't figured it out already

I honestly don't think she'll want to "eliminate" it/them

But she will talk the nastiest, goriest, most illegal shit about it/them

She gets all giddy when you grin about it too; internally she's going yeah!! made them smile!! (happy dance)

She'll try not to bring it up intentionally, but whenever it does come up she makes sure to express her strong distaste

If you ever actually want to... take care of things, she'll help with the cleanup, but she'll want you to have the satisfaction of planning and doing it yourself

I mean, she dreams of having that satisfaction herself (looks at Jeff)

Regardless of whether or not you want to do something illegal, ultimately she respects that it's your trauma and you get to deal with it however you like

"Ticci" Toby

Murder. Arson.

Literally his knee-jerk reaction

He just looks between you and the suspected trigger, points a thumb in its direction and says: "Want me to kill that guy/light that thing up?"

If you say yes he'll do it straight away; he doesn't care who's watching

He'll ask if you want to help first though ofc

Then he'll run away giggling like a second grader, grabbing your hand on the way

When you slow down he sighs satisfactorily, saying how fun that was

If you're still distressed (or if you refused his earlier offer), he finally takes notice of your emotions

He'll ask you quite bluntly what's wrong

When you explain it to him, he just nods solemnly

He knows from experience that having a rough past sucks, so he understands completely

If you haven't already he suggests that you "take care of it"

But if you agreed to murder/arson earlier he just grins again and says "Well then it's good that we did that back there!"

If you ever have an attack again he'll either remind you that the thing/person is gone, or he'll nag you about "taking care of it"

He'll begrudgingly put an arm around you though when you don't immediately calm down

He might offer you something to fidget with, too; that always helps him when he's anxious

Just try not to be too alarmed when it's a box cutter or a butterfly knife or something weird that he puts in your hand

Tim/Masky

I feel like he'd be a little awkward when you start to panic

He'll panic a little too, asking what's wrong and if/how he can help

He'll do anything you say, but if you're unable to respond he just puts his arm around your shoulders and takes you into another room

He'll hug you against him, patting your back awkwardly while you process the attack

He doesn't know what else to do :(

He probably realizes what's happening after a few minutes, and he only gets more awkward when that happens

He sucks at dealing with his own trauma; he is literally the worst person for you to be with right now

At least that's what he thinks

When you start to calm down he asks if you want to talk about it, but then immediately curses himself for asking such a stupid question (he doesn't even want to talk about his trauma; why should anyone else? (just his thoughts))

If you do want to talk it turns into a very deep and candid discussion in which you both open up a bit

He'll ask if there's anything that helps at all

Honestly he's asking for you as much as himself; he'd love to try anything that works for you

I don't think he'd suggest or condone killing/destroying the trigger; from his experience that just brings more issues

He'll basically just tell you "yeah, it sucks, and we just have to deal. Which sucks times two."

Very helpful, thank you Tim 👍

At least he always holds you whenever you have an attack <3

Thank you so much for this request!! And thanks for reading, take care sweethearts <33

(divider by saradika)

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allisonlol · 2 years

Note

hii!! can i get dazai, chuuya, tecchou when their s/o safewords during sex plsss

a/n: i got so excited when i saw this req i fr started writing instantly lol. i’ve always had an idea similar to this in the back of my mind but never got around to writing it, so thx for requesting & reminding me >:)

warnings: mentions of sexual activity (somewhat explicit), safeword usage, brief descriptions of pain and blood

(Dazai, Chuuya, Tecchou) When Their S/O Safewords

Dazai

you and dazai had been at it for awhile now, and so far everything was fine

but suddenly, dazai lifted up your legs and pressed them back against your chest, forcing you into a mating press

you gasped at the sensation of how much deeper he was able to go now, & threw your head back against the pillow

but after a minute you registered a throbbing pain in your abdomen

the ache soon turned into sharp, shooting pains that were hard to ignore and outweighed the pleasure

ur body wasn’t used to this position yet and, unable to bear it anymore, you grab onto dazai’s shoulder & frantically say your safeword

it takes a few seconds for him to register what you said

but once he realizes, his eyes go wide and he stops, face paling slightly

^although it goes unsaid, dazai hates the thought of hurting you even unintentionally so he automatically feels guilty

kind of draws in on himself and won’t look you in the eye as he asks what’s wrong

pls just let him know what happened and that you’re not badly hurt

once you explain the situation and reassure him, dazai will lowkey start making fun of you?? lightheartedly of course

says some shit like “sorry my dick is too long babe😞” boy if you don’t shut the hell up

will resume only once you’ve reassured him several times that you feel better and are willing to continue

^even then he maintains a more gentle & slower pace

Chuuya

chuuya is known as an abrasive person in general and this aggressive behavior also regards to how he acts in bed

so i can see him getting carried away at times

don’t get me misunderstood tho. chuuya is very attentive and lives in fear of hurting you so usually he’s overly cautious

today was a bit different tho; the both of you had a stressful day of dealing with mafia business & were looking for a healthy way to release frustrations

so currently, chuuya had you pinned down on his desk, but was being more aggressive than usual

the intensity & degrading words which usually turned you on were now only making u feel more tired and upset

your eyes start tearing up and you try to hold back for him, but it's only a few more minutes before you're weakly calling out the safeword

chuuya is alert to every sound you make so he instantly hears it & stops, gently helping you up and turning you around to face him

sits you down on his chair and crouches on the floor next to it so you're at eye level

his heart almost stops when he sees the tears threatening to fall from your eyes & he curses himself for not noticing

you admit that you're just feeling a little upset at his words and it's probably because of the stressful day you both had

while you give him a watery smile and insist you are fine now, chuuya is still going to really internalize his guilt. you'll notice for a few weeks after that he is much softer n passionate both with his words and in bed <33

Tecchou

honestly he's such a soft lover that it's unlikely he'd hurt you in any way during sex

^always praising you, letting you know how much he loves you and just being sweet n gentle in general

this isn't to say he doesn't have days where he's rougher but even then, he is careful

SO in order for you to actually need to safeword, i believe there would have to be a third factor

^that being an injury you'd gotten at work the other day. while nothing particularly bad, it was a light slash across your abdomen from a blade

you'd bandaged it up of course, and tecchou had asked several times if you'd still wanted to continue despite the injury (to which you'd insisted)

at first everything was fine, but after 10 minutes you registered the cut starting to sting and assumed it had reopened. since it was so minor you figured afterwards you would just patch it up again

however it only gradually got worse and even with tecchou being his usual gentle self, the pain was too much </3

BUT tecchou is so attentive that u didn't even have to safeword

^notices the tears forming in your eyes and the way you're trying to hide your wince at every inward thrust he does

stops immediately and refuses to continue, pressing a kiss on your lips every time you try to protest

you're all like "no i'm fine!!" but he just gives a pointed look towards your bandage which is starting to spot with blood

y'all not tecchou having such good dick it made you bleed- jk jk

rebandages it for you and makes a "no sex" rule until you're completely better >:0

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @irethepotato @serenareiss @ashthemadwriter

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nunalastor · 21 days

Note

With this whole "Serial Roommates" AU and Detective Guy LeBlouff going on, I can't help but have a nagging thought.

As far as we know, both from the official comic and the series, Alastor is someone who definitely kills those who he believes deserve it, mainly those who abuse their power over others. If that's what he did in life, it makes sense that his goals in hell would be Overlords.

And, despite wanting to be seen as a sadistic and narcissistic psychopath, there is no denying that Alastor is quite fair in using his power. He doesn't kill Sir Pentius because he is insignificant, but he kills the gangsters who were looking for Mimzy. In the comic he didn't kill the butcher who was planning to attack him, but he didn't even hesitate when the butcher attacked Sheep Girl. It makes me think that he also has standards regarding the Overlords he killed. As the main example we have Husk, whom he did not kill, but now has at his service. Husk was an Overlord, it seems that his area was casinos, betting and games of chance. It wouldn't be strange if they revealed that Husk as Overlord was not exactly abusive towards the souls he possessed, but if he used them as a bargaining chip, instead of betting money or property, he bet souls since he did not give them importance, which led him to lose power and eventually give his soul to Alastor.

What I mean is that Alastor, in fact, has standards, and that leads him to be polite with other Overlords like Rosie or Zestial. However, even if he is friends with others, he never lets his guard down. He can't trust anyone in hell, keeping his smile and his defenses up all the time is very necessary where he are. His demonic form considers itself a prey, he has an aversion to something that others use as a distraction or to harm others (sex). Any weakness will be used against him, whether for power or simply wanting to do harm, as Husk demonstrated when he simply brought up Alastor's deal just to touch a nerve. If Alastor can't trust someone he owns, then he can't trust anyone anymore.

Lucifer and Charlie are more powerful than him, and Alastor knows it, but he also knows that he could trust Charlie. Vaggie was able to lie to his girlfriend, but he can't exactly blame her, being constantly on the defensive is something he can respect. Deep down he knows that Angel has no bad intentions, but he can't trust that he won't miss important information near Valentino or one of Vox's devices. Husk is only loyal to him because he has his soul, he can't trust him not to attack him if he frees him. Niffty is...a special case. Mimzy only looks for him when she wants something. Rosie is a special situation. He is wary of Zestial. Vox was his friend and that changed, and they were probably both to blame.

And if we think about the comic, it seems like all Alastor wants sometimes is to have a normal day. It is obvious that he enjoys the fear he provokes, but it would be nice if the cowards ran away after he had completed the basic etiquette he was raised with.

Which brings us back to the detective, a normal guy with no real power unlike Alastor, someone who genuinely has no bad intentions and just wants to spend time with an good old friend reminiscing about the good old days. While Alastor prefers to maintain an "untouchable" facade with everyone in Hell, he doesn't need to do that with Guy, or literally any other character who meets those characteristics (Niffty). There are people with whom he can feel normal, and let his guard down, at least a little.

For the members of "Dark Forced Family" this would provoke an attack of excessive jealousy. But for "Forced Family"? That would be the key, finding out what makes Alastor feel comfortable enough to let his guard down, giving him space to feel comfortable, and time to learn to trust that no one around him wants his head or his power or will use information they obtain from him against him.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #serial roommates #headcanon #meta #sort of

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drkmgs · 6 months

Text

Back up plan

Warning: Angst, mention of pregnancy, swearing

pairing: Jenna Ortega x GN! Reader

story type: one shot

A/N: It's a short and painful one. Part 2? or let's settle with this ending. Also, it's not proofread...

You got your first job as a barista and met Jenna, who was already working there for 2 years now. At first, you weren't sure if she liked you or not, so you only talked to her if it was necessary, but one day, she approached you and exchanged numbers.

Both of you got to talking, and soon enough, you found yourself falling for this girl. You have had your fair share of heartbreak and that not just in romantic relationships. You confessed having a crush on her. She rejected you but wasn't pushing you away. She wanted you to stay. She wants you to stay. So, you stayed.

Soon, she became busy with her acting activities, which you respected and continued to maintain the communication, but one day, she may have had a bad day and took your joke personally. You who has their hearts on their sleeves took that as a sign. You have been too clingy.

You didn't want to be that person in her life. So, you stopped texting her, and at work, you only talked to her if it was necessary. The teasing and the joking around vanished.

It has been weeks since you two had a conversation. "Hey- uhm- can we talk?" She nervously said. "Sure, right now?" You are getting ready to go home because your shift ended. "I- I don't know if it can wait." Jenna continues. "Okay. Then shoot." You nod towards her while you're fixing your jacket.

"Can we talk outside not in here." She drags you out through the back door where the trash are. You silently waited for her to talk. "Remember the manager of my agency?" With that start, your entire mood shifted. You knew who she was talking about. You knew this guy. This guy who is married but still look at his talents like they are not at the same age as his kids. This guy is the definition of disgusting.

"We kinda started talking-" You stopped her mid-sentence. "Talking? I- Jenna, this guy is married and has fucking kids the same age we are. He introduced me to his wife the other day while preparing his coffee." You couldn't contain the anger that is rising up.

"I- I'm pregnant."

That's when your whole world went into spiral. There was ringing in your ears. "Jenna, I love you, but this was a dumb thing to do. I know you are intelligent, but believing in his lies. Does he know?" You honestly let out. "Not yet. But I know the feeling is mutual." She desperately wants to convince you or herself. "Mutual? Do you think he'll leave his wife and kids for you? That's only 5% out of 80% because the rest are scattered between your other co-workers at the agency." You start to phase back and forth.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to keep the baby, and how about your dreams of being an actor?" You stopped phasing and looked into her eyes. It was watery and bloodshot. You couldn't hold on anymore. You stepped in front of her and embraced her. That's when her tears fell.

"I want to keep the baby, but I also want to keep auditioning, and I also want him to be involved. This is his responsibility, after all." You heard her say despite being muffled in your embrace.

You sighed. You let go of her and took a step back. "Jenna, why are you telling me this? If you already know what to do?" You coldly said. There's just one sentence repeating in your head, and you definitely don't want her to say it out loud.

"I- I saw how good you are with kids, and I was hoping that you would help me if he doesn't." The hesitant in her last words came to you like a truck in high speed.

"You want me as your backup plan."

This time, you are the one who has watery eyes. You just couldn't believe it. After years of long-distance relationships, you finally found someone who you connect with in person but fucks with you, like this. You let your tears fall.

"I'm sorry. I love you, but this. It's too much. I'm sorry."

and with that, you left her there standing. You went back inside the shop, took your belongings, and went home.

#jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x gn reader #drkmgsstories #fanfic #jenna ortega angst

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ddollfface · 2 months

Note

Hi! I read your alphabet about yandere!athlete and I loved! I also become curious: you said he needed maintain the popular facade in front of others, right? Being cool and a womanizer and other things. My question is: has he ever betrayed the reader while doing that? A kiss? Sex? How does he maintain that image while in a relationship with reader?

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Trigger Warnings; bad writing, reader is described as yandere’s girlfriend, um nothing this is really tame tbh If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I really liked this anon request! I had never really thought about this before lol, but I think the idea of LoveSick!Athlete defending his relationship to be so cute! Anyways, thanks so much for requesting something! If you have any more questions/thoughts, then just ask)))

Ooo, that's a really good question anon!

So, to answer your question, I need to refer back to things I've said in the past. LoveSick!Athlete makes your relationship known, extensively. Honestly, his teammates will likely know so, so, so much about you, even before you've met. This is cause he'll tell everyone and anyone about your interests; what your favorite food is, whether you like to swim or not, etc.

And he'll make it clear that the two of you are in a committed relationship. Now, this doesn't stop chicks from going up to him and openly flirting with him, even though he's made his relationship status clear. We all know that there are some... determined girls out there, and he seems to attract all of them. It's a big university, after all.

LoveSick!Athlete won't lie, he finds their advances annoying, seeing as he only has eyes for you, you, you, but he has a reputation to uphold, meaning that he'll entertain them, much to your annoyance. Depending on how long you've known each other, seeing as I've drabbled on a childhood friend version of reader, LoveSick!Athlete's reaction and response will vary.

The first reaction is to go along with whatever the girl's requesting, wanting to just get the interaction over with while keeping his reputation intact. He'll nod along with whatever the girl's saying, sweet talk her a little, but all his words don't mean anything. They're just a bunch of empty promises and flirtatious remarks, nothing from the heart. Mind you, LoveSick!Athlete is subconsciously comparing the girl to you.

All he can think of is how you're so, so, so much better than her. How your smile is so much sweeter, softer, and pleasing on the eyes, his eyes. How your clothes are appealing and bring out your own charm, something he's always loved about you. How your perfume isn't overbearing, like hers, or how it's light and matches you perfectly. All of these comparisons pop up in his mind and it just makes him bitter, wishing that he wasn't talking to this girl and instead laying in bed with you, loving you.

Eventually, if the girl tries to get in his pants, he'll wave her off, passing her to one of his, not-as-attractive, friend/s. Of course, he'll make sure that she's willing and actually interested in his friends, not wanting the girl to feel forced into anything. But he isn't talking to her anymore, and he'll relay that information in the nicest way he can. After all, it's possible that the girl doesn't know that he has an amazing girlfriend waiting for him.

He'll be humble; tell the girl that he's sure that one of his friends would be a much better fit for her. That he's too rowdy for her, after all, she's such a sweetheart, he's sure. His friend Chui (just thought of a random name lol) is a real pleaser, you'll see, he tells the girl. And he'll play matchmaker, paring the, now confused, girl with his appciative friend (who's cool with the turn of events).

LoveSick!Athlete has set up so many of his friends and teammates as a way of getting out of hooking up with some random girl.

Then there's the second reaction he'd have, and this one is if he's been with you for a long time (like a year or more). At this point, in your relationship, everyone, and I mean everyone, knows that you're together. There's no way that they couldn't. This means, that if a girl tries to get with him they're actively trying to get him to leave you, or they're new, which is far less likely.

The latter is the more common option, seeing as you're with LoveSick!Athlete every waking day. There's no way a girl couldn't know that you're his girl. And, let's just say, that LoveSick!Athlete isn't too pleased that someone trying to get between your relationship, but, of course, he has a public image to maintain.

To avoid his name being tarnished, he'll play into the lovesick boyfriend stereotype. He'll tell the girl that he's sure she's a great girl, that she'd be a wonderful girlfriend, he'd say with gritted teeth. The idea of calling another girl wondering makes his nose scrunch in disgust, especially since they don't even compare to you, you, you.

Then he'll drop the bomb, that they may or may not know, saying that he's got you, his girl, at home. That you're the girl of his dreams, someone he's been waiting for his whole life. Of course, the girl will swoon, finding his loyalty to be just adorable. And this will change the topic to how great of a boyfriend he is, how you must be so lucky to have someone like him. He'll stay humble, of course, not wanting to see too stuck up. He's gotta stay right in the in-between.

LoveSick!Athlete will rub his neck, faining a blush as he refuses the girl's compliments. How he's the lucky one, that you're such a good girlfriend, better than he'd ever imagine. And if his buddies are there, they'll smack him on the shoulder, teasing him for being a simp or some crap. After that, everyone would completely forget about the girl trying to hook up with him, just what he wanted.

Anyways! That's what I think would happen in this scenario/s. LoveSick!Athlete is a very, very, very loyal man, something I personally find endearing. And he highly values loyalty in all of his relationships, both platonically and romantically. He holds both you and himself to the standard of loyalty.

He feels the same way about his family, too. He'd lie about murder if it meant keeping his sister/brother out of jail. He'd do anything, and I mean anything, for the ones he loves. It's a core value of his, and he would never waver on that front.

How sweet, don't cha think?

#𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #Lovesick #obsessive love #yandere x reader #yandere oc x you #bad writing #yandere x you #yandere male #x reader #yandere oc #reqs open

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donotwishonme · 2 months

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march 3: card - 546 words - @jegulus-microfic - implied sexual content

Regulus does not like attention very much. This is a well known fact. So when a delivery guy steps out of the elevator with a gigantic bouquet of red roses asking about a Regulus Black, he wishes the ground would swallow him.

Pandora, who sits at the desk across from him, waves her hand in the air to get the guy’s attention and point at him. Regulus sits with his face in his hands, this is embarrassing.

Regulus can feel the guy looming over him and looks up. He shuffles some of his papers to the side. “You can put them there, thank you,” he says meekly.

Regulus just leaves the flowers standing there. Doesn't want to pay them any more attention. Doesn’t want anymore attention on himself. Just wants to go back to focusing on his work. Until Pandora interrupts him, “Aren’t you gonna see who sent them. There is a card attached to them.”

She is gazing at the flowers intently, admiring them. Regulus has to admit, they are quite beautiful. It’s just a bit much. Who would even send this to him? He hasn't done anything to deserve this. He doesn't have anyone to have an anniversary with and his birthday is months away.

“Reg, card,” she repeats, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“It’s not that special. We get gifts all the time. Grateful clients and all that.” It’s not a lie. They maintain a close relationship with a lot of clients. But most of their gifts come in the form of gift cards or invites to dinners, not red roses.

“Yes but these are red roses, must be from someone special.”

“Well if you want to know you can read it to me.” He just wants to put it to rest, but once Pandora has something in her mind she won’t leave it alone. Quickest way to get it over with is to give in.

She picks the card out of the flowers and folds it open. Eyes darting over the card. She starts blushing and snaps the card closed again. “Oh, I think it’s better if you open it yourself.”

She lays the card in front of him and makes her way back to her own desk, cheeks still pink.

He opens the card and is greeted with, well how shall he put it, a picture of James Potter in all of his glory. James Potter, who is supposed to be just a client, is sending him roses and nudes, to his workplace. What a fucking idiot.

Would love to see you again Reg, you beg so pretty for me.

Regulus blushes even brighter than Pandora did. James, of course he remembers James. Left him a very grateful, very satisfied client.

He’d done the design for James’ new penthouse. When handing over the key to him, James had asked for a tour. Which ended in the bedroom with James’ head between his thighs and Regulus begging him to fuck him.

He glances at the card again. There is also a phone number, which he adds to his contacts immediately. Before he sends a message, he puts the card away, safe in his bag, just for his eyes.

Attention, he thinks, isn't that bad as long as it comes from James.

#regulus is an interior designer #james is a very satisfied client ;)#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus microfic #izzy's pocket-sized fics

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eshithepetty · 1 year

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You're so right big cleanup arc is SO GOOD they just can't appreciate Ritsu's 13-year-old swag 😔 (literally the most realistic depiction of middle schoolers I've ever seen I was like that in middle school)

RIGHT.... I see people making fun of that arc and Ritsu so much, and I know it's probably supposed to be all in good fun, but the results of that poll and general lack of understanding I see of that arc don't help my feelings on this..... like. I know people are allowed to not share my opinions and not like things but 😭

Like. Yes, Ritsu is dramatic in that arc. Yes, he breaks down over relatively small things. Yes, he beats people up seemingly out of nowhere. And yes, taken out of context.... I see how that's funny to talk about. But... it just saddens me. That that's most of the discussion I see of that arc. Just about how feral Ritsu was, how violent, how nonsensical, how funny it all is..... where's all the actual metas about it huh??? I wanna talk about it.

I wanna talk about how fucking stressed Ritsu was, even up until that point. About how it wasn't just framing those kids that broke him. He's been bottling all his feelings up for years. He's been maintaining that perfect image for years. He didn't even have anyone to talk to about it, like mob had Reigen - he had noone. He was simply the good kid, the smart kid, the helpful, kind brother, the one who never caused any trouble. Do you know how much fucking pressure that is? Do you know how lonely he must have felt? Not to even mention the added deathly fear of Mob, who he had to prepare for exploding every single day. Who he never knew when he could hurt him again. His big brother, who he loved so dearly. Who almost killed him. Who he had to develop placating tactics to try not to aggravate further. This kid is legit traumatized. He has issues. He had noone to help him with it. He was fucking alone. I don't actually think it's that extreme or nonsensical that he snapped.... I really don't.

As for the beating people up while monolouging thing.... I've mentioned it before, but I've never really went in depth with it I think - but I really fucking love how Ritsu kind of.... leans into this role of the villain once he realizes he's escaped the image of the good kid. He's never really had the chance to develop morality and ethics on a more realistic scale - cause he never really had true relationships to develop those senses. He simply... doesn't do well at people stuff. At being a normal kid. He can only emulate what he thinks people expect him to be - what will lead him to being the safest he can be. For a long time, that was the good, smart brother status. It kept his parents happy. It kept his brother happy. It kept his teachers happy. But what happens when he's suddenly not that? What happens when he has a chance to be something else? He can't just become himself. He doesn't know who he is. All he knows is that he's suddenly doing bad things, for seemingly no reason. He doesn't fully understand those reasons himself. "Even I..." he says. He says as he contemplates how even as someone as smart as him can be so petty, how even someone as weak as him can suddenly become powerful, how even someone so messed up as him can be forgiven.

That mask of a villain is what he puts on because he thinks it will finally give him what he has sought after all this time - power. Power to protect himself. Power to not be so afraid anymore. But also.... that shedding those concepts of social norms, of bonds, of caring about others, will give him the freedom that he so sorely lacks. That's what he's felt the most of all - this.... stifling sense of responsibility. This responsibility that he has put on to please others, to not be hurt. So what if he just.... doesn't care about it anymore? Did he ever even care? What if he never cared about others at all, what if he never cared about his brother at all? What if it was all just... fear? Fear that he can shed now, now that he can protect himself? He wants to be free. He so badly wants to not be scared anymore.

And he thinks he achieved that. He finally achieved 'loss'. He can do what he pleases now. Noone can tell him what to do anymore.

....hey. Don't you think that kind of sounds like someone? Someone... made of shadows, white eyes, someone who's felt that same suppression for the same amount of years? :)

I really, really think Ritsu and Mob aren't that different. It's just that their power levels are different, and... Ritsu kind of came to that breaking point a lot sooner than Mob, on virtue of having noone to rely on. Of course, they are still vastly different people, but.... it's not a coincidence, that Ritsu was the first to understand who ???% is.

So I just think it's kinda weird, how many people just. Seem to not understand Ritsu? Or take Mob seriously, while only ever making fun of Ritsu? Of course not all people do that, and I know a lot of people poke fun at him out of love (me also, sometimes), but I've heard so many people admit that they don't understand the big clean up arc, or Ritsu's character, or simply don't care to look too deep into it. When I look up mp100 essays on youtube, that arc and Ritsu's character, is the one most often grossly misinterpreted. And I just find that sad. And it's part of the reason for my strong feelings for this, I guess.

In the end, Ritsu is just a young, confused kid, one who's lived in fear for so long he forgot what life looks outside of it, one who stifled himself for years, one who felt the need to put himself into boxes because everything was just suddenly so bad and so complicated and he couldn't make sense of it on his own. What 13 year old could? What traumatized 13 year old honors student wouldn't act irrationally when presented with otherwordly powers? Is there even a healthy way one could be expected to react to all of this?

I could go on... I could talk about how he develops past that, about his words to Shimazaki during the world domination arc on what he wants is a 'fun life', about his relationship to Shou, about how I think Ritsu will struggle to choose his future, about how he and Mob grow beyond the series... but this was supposed to be about the big clean up arc, so I'll end it at that. I don't think I explained my thoughts the best I could, Ritsu is just a little bug in my brain that buzzes and buzzes and never quite leaves and idk how to put it all into coherence, but... yes. That's my answer to this ask, I guess lmao. I have to go load the dishwasher now o7

P.s. I hope noone gets any hard feelings over my dramatics btw. I am simply a creature that gets way too passionate about some fictional characters.... and Ritsu happens to be one of them u_u and I hope this big old ramble of mine made some sense jdhhdhd

#ask #mp100 #kageyama ritsu #meta #mob psycho 100 #of course. there is also an element of 'i have a complicated relationship with my sibling as well and see a lot of myself in mob and ritsu'#so they are very very very close to my heart in ways i cany even explain....#but noone needs to hear me traumadump hrhdhdhd #character analysis #fandom critical #leafbeetle

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

It’s oh so quiet

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Summary: you are in a bad relationship, and you just want to be with Jake.

Warnings: angst (?), but fluffy end. cursing. cheating/unfaithfulness. poor relationship.

notes: its technically jake seresin x reader/bradley bradshaw x reader, but barely

Sorry i’ve been so awol. there has just been a lot going on

Words: 1668

-----

"Did you know the sheets pilled?"

There's an oblong table in your kitchen. Large. Out of place in the cramped space. He sits at one end, you at the other. The distance between you is enough to keep one another well out of reach, but you're used to it. With your hands in your lap, you stare at the outside of the flimsy newsprint in his grip that obscures most of his face.

"What?" He asks, taking a sip of coffee. He doesn't bother to flick the corner of the page down to meet your eye.

"The bedsheets,” you pick at your thumbnail, “they pilled. From the washer." Cheap things. So thin you can see the label of your mattress through the fabric. That they're not littered with holes is a miracle. “That’s why it feels like someone dumped a bucket of cracker crumbs in the bed.”

"Oh," he pauses, maintaining his full attention on the article. You know he didn’t bother to fully absorb your words before opening his mouth. His stupid mouth. "I hadn't noticed."

Of course not, you think. He sleeps soundly. Thoroughly. He sleeps like a cradled cat with a belly full of milk. Always waking perfectly rested; yesterday’s troubles as thick and potent in his mind as a cup of watered-down coffee is on his tongue. His side of the bed might as well be silky soft, smooth. You wouldn’t know. You haven’t spent much time there in a while. Meanwhile, your side is filled with little balls of hardened fabric that scrape their way into the uppermost layer of your skin. As irritating as kneeling on a pile of uncooked grits or chipped pieces of rock.

You don’t sleep anymore. You can’t blame the sheets. You think of him. The other him. The him whose face is tattooed on the inside of your eyelids. Ever present. Following you with each blink—each attempt at rest.

“Are you going to leave him?”

Your hand runs softly down the side of his face, skimming across the light blond scruff coating his jaw. “Is that what you want?”

He grabs your hand from his face. Kisses your palm. “You know it is.”

The man before you doesn’t speak—he reads. He doesn’t look up. You’re not there; not to him. The room is once again silent—silence in its rawest form. We have silent sex, you suddenly think. Well, had silent sex. You don’t touch him anymore and he doesn’t try to touch you. He knows better; knows you prefer those touches to come from another’s fingers; he just doesn’t know whose. He doesn’t ask.

It’s so heavy, this silence. Thick. Hard to penetrate. It’s different here, in this space. Uncomfortable and achy and soon it will morph into pure pain—it always does. It makes you miss the noise. The days you used to fight. The screams and the curses and that time the walls shook when his fist pummeled through the plaster. Without the noise, this silence is a murderous little thing. It seeps into your pores, nestles under your skin, and slowly eats away at your insides until you feel ugly and rotten, like a festering wound. Something to be cut out and discarded.

It’s not like that with him. With him, silence is easy; it’s peace. It turns your brain into cotton candy clouds. You’re free to not have to think. You’re free to breathe. You like breathing. It’s oddly pleasant. Even more so when you’re laying beside him while his fingers sift through the stands of your hair.

“I love you,” he says.

“I know—I love you, too.”

“Then when do I get to clear out half of my closet?”

You raise a brow. “Get to?”

He only smiles and tugs your body closer to his. “I want to have you here. I'm ready for you to be mine. Only mine."

You are ready, too. So, so ready. Each moment of acting otherwise seems to age you. Like nature looks upon you every day, shaking its head in disappointment, and decides that if you’re going to waste your time being miserable when you could be happy, then you don’t get to keep your youth. You’re wasting it and you don’t deserve such a gift.

You understand nature’s irritation. You hadn’t been too thrilled with yourself, either. But then last weekend happened.

For the first time, you hadn't left his place to shuffle your way back to your apartment. You woke up in a bed other than your own and when you opened your eyes, you flipped over to be met with the peaceful face of the man you loved—asleep, and yet awake enough to subconsciously wrap his arm tighter around your waist and nuzzle his face into your hair. You knew in a half-second that that was where you belonged. With him. In his arms, his bed, his heart. Your life is meant to be by his side. It's just a matter of speaking it aloud to more than yourself.

Your eyes penetrate through the paper. You can practically see his face; emotionless, dull, the entirety of him unmoved by your presence.

“It’s Jake,” you finally say, your voice powerful, slicing through the air. You take a breath. "It's been Jake."

He still doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. You start to think you’ve reached a whole new level of insignificance to him. But then he folds the newspaper and lays it flat atop the table. He looks up at you—stares straight into your soul.

“It was that girl from the bar,” he says.

It doesn’t hurt. Not one bit. You don’t feel anything in your body at the thought of his limbs entangled with another woman's. Your heart doesn’t crack, your head doesn’t ache, your fingers don’t tremble. It’s nothingness. There’s nothing.

You only nod in response, but truthfully you don’t know which girl he is talking about. There were many options. Women fling themselves at him whenever you go out, and he lets them. His voice is a beacon from the moment he sits himself down on that piano bench. A beacon to all women but you. With his eyes on them, yours are always on Jake, standing on the other side of the bar, his hand outstretched for you to take and sneak off somewhere more private.

He shakes his head as he crosses his arms and fully leans back in the chair. His snort is a puff of air. “He’s always talking about you,” he says. “Drags your name into every damn conversation.”

You hold back the smile his words beg to spread across your face. But his own meaning is clear. I should’ve known. It was so obvious. It was right in front of me the whole time.

You agree. It was right there, in plain sight, from the moment it started. He just never cared enough to bother seeing. Neither did you care to notice how easily he fell into arms that were not your own.

“No one else to pick but my teammate?” he asks.

You shrug. “Why did you pick the girl you did?”

“She was there and she wanted me.”

"Jake was there and he wanted me," you say. “And I fell in love with him.” To say the least. Jake Seresin hit you like an avalanche; showing you all the things you didn't know you could have. All the things that completely and simultaneously swell your heart and set your body aflame.

"Well." Fingers run through his brown locks. “Are you leaving or am I?”

“I am. At the end of the week.”

He scoffs, but there’s a hint of a dry laugh buried beneath it. “All planned out and everything, huh?”

You can practically taste the bitterness on his tongue. You know it all too well from past kisses. It's his pride this time, though, that has been damaged. You feel an ounce of regret for that. Hurting him is not your intention. It never was. But anything he feels now is not a wound to the heart. It's been quite some time since you could have had that power.

“When was the last time we were good for one another, Bradley? When was the last time you looked at me and could truly say you loved me?”

He's quiet, yet again. This time appearing to think on your question. Perhaps he believes it's for your benefit to not seem so terribly obvious in already knowing the answer. But he’s not alone. You've both known the answer for far too long.

“I don’t know," he says.

You nod. "Neither do I.”

—-

He's leaning against the back of his truck; muscled body clad in jeans and a black t-shirt, the short sleeves straining from the thickness of his biceps. He hasn't noticed you yet and you let yourself stare at him—taking him in, absorbing him the way his skin absorbs the summer sun.

Then you smile wide and run to him from the entrance of your apartment building. He notices you just in time to catch you in his arms, spinning you around once before setting you on your feet.

"Hi," you say.

He shakes his head with a smile that mirrors your own, and then he kisses you. A soft press of his lips to yours, but it's enough to burst tingles throughout your body, reaching down to your toes and to the tips of your fingers that are weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Hi, baby," he whispers between the narrow space separating your lips when you break the kiss. "I missed you."

A chuckle escapes your mouth as he sighs and rests his forehead against yours. His arms tighten around you, as if holding you loosely would give you the freedom to evaporate from his grasp. But you never will. Not by your own choice. "I don't think you'll be saying that for a while, Jake."

"Good." He gives you another long kiss. "Let's go get your stuff."

-----

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plutoispurplw · 3 months

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Hi. Can you make a story of Wonka 2023? Reader is a theater owner which is also a musical actress. She have been stressful about the path she choose and Willy Wonka help her to cheer up with a chocolate?

୨ৎRequest#1୨ৎ

Summary: Reader is stress because now she has to maintain and manage the theather of her family, Willy see this and he comfort her and he reasure her that she is doing it fine.

Couple: Willy Wonka x FemReader!

Words: 841

Autor note: This is my first request. Please remember that english isn't my first language. Please repost and follow me for more one shots.

I'm the owner of a theather, it is of my family and has been for generations, now it is my turn to be the owner and take the decisions to make work like it should.

That wasn't my dream, it was being a actress and a singer, the good thing is that I can stay here and act in the musical plays. But that only ended up in me being more stressed.

Now the business was in a bad time, people didn't go to the theather and I were losing fate of keeping the theather like parents gave me and make it better and more famous.

I liked to go to the top of the theather and sit to think about all my problems while seeing the stars in the sky, it was my moment of peace before I had to go back to the theather and people start to ask me to decide and do everything.

Right now I was doing it, I was overwhelmed with stress about everything, about manage the theather, learn songs to the musicals and now how to atract more people to the theather, my eyes start to tear up without my permision, my head was hurting me.

I turned my head to see a tall man with brown hair that was a curly, his eyes were hypnotizing, his features were sharp, he was gorgeous.

I recognized him as a the owner of the new chocolate factory and the store, I have seeing him from afar sometimes but I never talk to him or interact with him.

I was scared for a moment, according to me I was the only one who know how to arrive to the top of the theather, but now it seems that he had that knowledge too.

"How you got to the top of the theather." I ask him while I wiped my tears from cheeks but it was useless because he had seem it. He didn't answer me, he just sit by my side and look at me.

"Let's just say that I found a way, why are you crying?" He ask me, his face look filled with concern, it was weird to have a stranger being worried about your well being but it doesn't matter anymore.

"Nothing" He didn't believe me, of course not, my cheeks were red and my eyes betrayed me, I doubted for a moment if I should answer him because he was still a stranger even if I know his name, in the end I decide to answer. "Just some personal problems."

The corcern was gone from his face, relief wash over his features, he look at the city in front of them, it was dark and the only source of light were the moon and the light posts.

"Have you ever felt like your time is running out and now you think that you choose the wrong path?" When I said that he look at me again, he seem like he was thinking about that.

"Yeah, when I open the store and it start to burn, after that moment I thought that it was a signal to stop chasing my dream but here we are and now I have my factory." He give me a little smile.

"The theather is mine, it was from my grandparents, and then it was passed to my parents but they died in a accident so it now my turn." My voice was breaking while I talk, I was trying to don't break me in front of him. "Now I feel like I'm falling."

"You're not failling, manage a theather is hard." His tone was reassuringly, his eyes filled with empathy. "But my parents were perfect at managing the theather, but now this is a mess."

"Hey, you're not your parents, you're doing everything you can and you're doing it great, this is only the rain before the sun." When he look at your tears he just wiped them, his smile made relief wash over me.

Then out of nowhere he wrapped his arms around me, it was strange but at the same time it feel nice, I rest my head against his shoulder.

When he pulled away he smile me again. "You're the one who was the lead in the last musical, I watch the musical but I supposed you didn't see me. Your voice is beautiful."

I felt when the blood rushed to my cheeks, now they were of a scarlett tone.

When he notice that I blush he look embarrassed. "I'm sorry If I was too forward, I didn't meant to make you embarrassed I just really think that your voice is beautiful."

"Don't worry." I stay quiet for a moment thinking, he was nice with me and I felt comfortable with him. "You wanna take coffee? In the theather we have a room that is comfortable to talk and isn't cold like here."

"Of course, I would like to talk with you." He said with a warm tone and I rest my head against his shoulder.

#wonka x reader #willy wonka #fluff #one shot fluff #fanfic fluff #small writer #small account #fanfic writing #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka x you #wonka 2023 #wonka 2023 x reader #pluto is purple #fluff writing #just fluff #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet

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