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obsessiveloveistheonlylove · 6 months ago

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Yandere bruce wayne with neglected!daughter reader

Seen a bunch of neglected reader fics recently but I haven't seen one of a Reader who slowly starts to take advantage of the situation and uses batfam for their money and connections so here's this! This only focuses on Bruce for now but if anyone is interested I'd be willing to do some for the other batfam members + hcs for when/if they snap and kidnap the reader.

Was suppoused to headcanons but ended up more as long rambles than anything lol mainly set up for later posts detailing the situation

Pt1 it got too long, word count ; 2461

Unedited

___

Bruce is absolutely the most susceptible to this behavior, he feels the most guilt about the situation (as he should for being a neglectful father) and he is not going to lie to himself to try and save face and make himself feel better and if he does it's only for a short while before reality slaps him in the face and he has to see the truth. The truth is that there is no one to blame but himself.

When he first noticed your disappearance it had happened slowly… entirely too slow when he really took the time to think about it. You had been gone for a full year and he hadn't even noticed? Were you even old enough to be on your own like that? Something he felt ashamed that he even had to ask. When Alfred informs him that you're nineteen just this month he's shocked not only that you're an adult and that he didn't even realize your birthday had passed but that he couldn't even remember your face. He searches his memories for your Visage but all that he can recall is murky; he can't even remember the correct shade of your eyes or your hair and it startles him how long has it been since he took the time to properly look at you?

It takes some time but eventually he remembers your face with sudden clarity, he hadn't seen it in a while and the only image he could conjure up was when he first saw you, a small helpless looking child left on his doorstep by commissioner Gordon. your eyes held the same dull glassy look that his did the night his parents died, you had lost your mom in a similar vein he felt he could relate to at the time. he remembered seeing you and feeling sad for you but not in the way a father does for his child the way he felt was the same way he felt as Batman seeing victims in Gotham streets you didn't deserve this life but you weren't anyone close to him.

His chest aches and he remembers the way you'd clung to him your first week in the manor and then the way you wilted when he shut that down, it wasn't like he was trying to hurt you but he couldn't have you following him around everywhere especially not when gothams crime was getting out of hand even with the other members picking up his slack. So he reprimanded you, way too harshly now that he looks back on it he knows he only meant to keep you from discovering his secret but he could have worded it better instead he made it sound like you were a burden. Maybe you were to him at the time he thinks and is disgusted with himself for even letting the thought cross his head.

He reads your diary page after page until he reads through the whole thing. The first few pages are hopeful but solemn detailing how much you missed your mother but you're glad that you have a whole new family and you hope that they will like you, it's heartbreaking to read that kind of childish hope turn into sadness and then hate. You detailed how no one would make time for you that you'd tried everything to get their attention but you'd get blown off by each one it turns into rants about you asking what was wrong with you and why no one ever spent any time with you the writing was scribbled on so he knows you did it in a hurry just to vent out your frustration. The part that hurt most were the pages about him, you had nothing good to say about him in fact in one of the pages you had written that you didn't have much to say about him at all that you hardly knew him and barely saw him once a month and couldn't even call him your father.

Surely that couldn't be true right? He's not the best father figure by far but he always tried to make time for dick, Tim, Jason, Steph, Damian and Cass ... .surely he did for you.

He tries to find memories of him being a good father or at least trying to be any kind of father figure to you at all but he can't he can only see the times he rejected your pleas to spend time with you for things he deemed more important than you he sees it clearly each time he rejected you how you got sadder and sadder how you seemed to wilt at each and every rejection until you stopped asking.

he tries to tell himself that he did it for your protection that he just didn't want to get you involved in the crime fighting scene and since gothams streets were never without crime he spent an exorbitant amount of his time as Batman down in the batcave or out fighting crime with his other children and that's why he couldn't spend time with you. And that's why he seemingly had so many memories with them in the recent years; hell even in the recent weeks he has more memories with dick and the others than he ever had made with you. he tries to use it as an excuse to mask the truth; that you didn't matter in the grand scheme of his life, at least not then but he's going to do everything to make this right.

You'll be surprised to suddenly get a ton of texts from an unknown number even more so when you find out it's from bruce. Suddenly he's asking you how you've been, how was the move, are you in college right now, what major did you take? Obviously you're taken aback when the man who acted like you didn't exist suddenly wants to know everything about you. You would think he'd needed something but you know better than that what could he possibly need with you now? You don't have any money and he wouldn't need that anyways. Maybe he's dying and needs a kidney or something…whatever you don't care that man can rot.

You leave his messages on read of course, because you don't owe him a response and well maybe to be a bit petty and give him a taste of his own medicine. You don't know how bitter the taste is in Bruce's mouth, he knows you've seen them so why won't you respond? Bruce usually isn't a multi texter but he'll send more and more trying to get any kind of response out of you, he's constantly checking his phone hoping to see three little dots appear and he's noticeably slightly more angsty when out patrolling with the others.

The texts were annoying but you could mute his notifications and after the first few weeks you basically forgot about the texts going about your normal life until he started calling. It seemed like he was always calling Day in day out, you blocked his number because of how annoying it was but he always just gets a new one leaving the same text “ hey your name its dad” and then the calling would resume.

One day you pick up and Bruce sounds so relieved when he says your name into the receiver you figure he might really need that kidney if he sounds this excited to see you.

When you answer back he knows you aren't excited in fact you sound completely disinterested in him which takes him by surprise, isn't this what you wanted? What you cried for in your diary begging God that your father would notice you. You're older now so maybe you just aren't looking for that kind of attention anymore, the thought haunts him the idea that he could never truly make it up to you still he pushes through his voice sounding nervous as he starts to tentatively ask about your day. You cut him off with a scoff after some terse conversation telling him to just get to the point already and stop wasting your time.

The silence is deafening and you almost hang up before he croaks out a response “sorry name, I just wanted to know what you were up to I know we uh.. haven't talked in awhile I just wanted to hear from you and know that everything was alright” could this really be your father? He sounds so pathetic to you at that very moment, nothing like the confident man you saw on television often nor the man you saw taking care of everyone but you.

And no nothing was alright you were working a job you hated in some shitty little apartment in Gotham that you had to fear if it would get broken into or not because the damn landlord wouldn't change the faulty locks a rage takes you and you just let it all fall out cursing him for your shitty life and the shitty apartment and for being a shitty father letting all that rage out until you're left heaving. its silent after your outburst you think he might have hung up but after a moment he offers to pay for a new place and offers to pay your current rent until you can break the lease and that he will take care of you and not to worry about anything financial telling you to quit your job and to send him your bank so he can get things sorted out.

At first you wanted to vehemently deny this, wanting to prove to yourself that you didn't need him or his help but something In the back of your head tells you to accept it, that if he expects anything back for it then that's his fault for assuming. So you tell him and soon there's a large sum of money in your account more than you have ever had in there. For once you can actually afford to treat yourself instead of eating shitty microwaved ramen, and so you dine out in a nice reasonably expensive restaurant with your friends and you enjoy yourself.

A week passes in silence and then he's sending you pictures of luxury apartments telling you to pick out any one you want and that he'll get everything settled and you almost can't believe this. Would he actually pay for something so outrageously expensive? You almost doubt it but once your lease is up Bruce is at your door helping you move out any furniture you wanted to keep which was almost nothing seeing as everything was already worn out anyways.

You didn't say much to him and he seemed to realize you were in no talking mood so he allowed you to be quiet and told you about himself instead talking about the boys and what he'd been working on recently, it feels like what he should've been for you years ago an interaction you'd have killed for when you were fourteen and it just pisses you off so you turn on the radio instead to drown out his words. You don't care how he's doing, you don't want to hear about dick or damian, you're only accepting his help because you're tired of living in that shitty apartment. The ride is otherwise silent except for the annoyingly upbeat pop music which would probably make Damian or Jason have an aneurysm if they had to listen to it.

The goodbye is awkward. You can tell Bruce wants to come inside and talk more but you thank him for helping you move in the furniture and shut the door.

He buys you new furniture without you asking and sends it in by the second week you're in the apartment. You don't realize that he stalks your posts and that he saw one of you complaining about the lack of good furniture.

Life has never been better for you, you live in luxury and can go on shopping sprees literally whenever you want and Bruce sends you a random stream of cash whenever you start to get low and you're definitely not going to look a gift horse in the mouth not when you enjoy every luxury you are afforded.

Life is good until a certain black haired prick starts inserting himself into your life and this time it isn't bruce, nope it just had to be your annoyingly bubbly, touchy, and all too friendly ‘stepbrother’ dick grayson.

___

So yeah all in all Bruce has the capability to recognize your strained relationship is all his fault and that he never should have ignored you and how selfish he was to put his duties as Batman above his duties as a father to you. He realized he didn't even try to balance the two.

And Despite himself he ended up hurting you and neglecting you so he feels he owes it to you to make things right even if 'making things right' entails him buying you a luxury apartment or purchasing the latest phone or new car. The best part is that Bruce will not demand time from you (yet) because of his guilt. He simply suggests that maybe you should come out with him saying that he planned a whole day for the two of you but the ball is in your court since whether or not you ever accept his invites he will continue to be your cash cow to absolve himself of his guilt.

It's fun because now you get to watch him wilt everytime you reject his attempts at reconnecting, you get to have your petty revenge watching as a part of him dies inside each and every time you ignore the conversations he tries to start when pulling money out of the bank, you get to watch how he seems to lose all of his luster when you leave once the cash is in your hands without so much as a thanks. Bruce isn't stupid he knows this dynamic is unhealthy and recognizes it for what it is but this is the only way he can get you to talk to him or to even look in his direction. He has his limits though eventually you will talk to him whether you want to or not

#tw yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere platonic bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne #dont like dont read #yandere dc

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cupidbedsy · 6 months ago

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𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | 𝘫𝘩86 ୨୧

➪ summary: jack struggles after their breakup, and after a little talk with his mom, he's on his way to get his girl back

➪ warnings: fights, sad jack, broken glass, breakup

➪ word count: 2.8k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: this was the first ever jack fic i wrote and i went back and read it and forget how in love with it i was. i hope you guys are enjoying the reposts, i am hoping to be done with them in the next couple of weeks and then i can start working on new fics! anyway, i decided to use the old taglist one more time because i haven't gotten the chance to sort out everyone that has filled out the form so far. so..... if you haven't already, please fill out the taglist form if you want to be added to the new one! i love you guys so much, and i appreciate each and everyone of you

jh86 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably.

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost.

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too.

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her.

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking.

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt.

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him.

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse.

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing.

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n.

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it.

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday. Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.”

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him.

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.”

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

#: ̗̀➛ sunny’s writing 📓 !#: ̗̀➛ ❝ [ fics ] ❞#: ̗̀➛ ❝ [ jack hughes ] ❞#nhl #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #njd #new jersey devils

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shapelytimber · 1 month ago

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Wanted to paint some of my favorite characters, nothing more nothing less

[COMMISSIONS]

Way too much yapping like an embarrassing amount, the individual portraits and the template I used below vvv

I shouldn't be allowed to talk about my favorite characters- especially to people who (presumably) don't know them xjfkdk apart from the very popular ones ofc

ILLYA KURYAKIN (The man from U.N.C.L.E)

gay ass little Russian spy I love him he is so *dramatic* and a huge nerd and a Beatles fan and into fashion design- perfect pocket size blorbo ;w; also seeing a Russian character being given a positive leading role in an American tvshow from the 60s ?? Yes he lives in New York and works for UNCLE America.... But he is still a communist ?? Incredible ! Also I really like the fact he isn't given the cliché personality traits often given to Russian characters i e anger issues drinks a lot violent ect (looking at you shitty(imo) modern remake... What did you do to my little guy ;;). In a close contest with Spock for the "gayest man from tvshow" of the 60s..... And in my heart he is winning djdkd for me the gay subtext of muncle hits so much more because it's not a scifi show- it's closer to home, Napoleon and Illya were *like that* in the present day of the 60s, they were both human, and no alien fuckery made them go to the village more than once or play house in the suburbs or get attached ass up to get pegged on a regular basis... Truly a show that feels written by an old queen and a guy with the biggest fem dom fetish jkvjjkb (don't get me wrong tho I adore star trek tos and spirk too <3)

KUROO HAZAMA and PINOKO (Black Jack)

sometimes I rewatch some of the oavs from the 90s when I'm sad :) I had a huge phase a couple years back when I read nearly all the manga (should really finish it... Or reread the whole thing frankly), watched *all* the shows (bar young black jack, hated that shit) and idk I just love this venal bitch so much- him and his daughter and his conflicted feelings for his tboy ex that he still loves kfkfkf btw I'm dying for a modern take on this like please please please I'd love to see Kei Kisaragi's story rewritten a bit (trans character in the 70s sure was progressive but oh boy-), because him and black jack's relationship makes me so *weak*.... And maybe see him a bit more than in one story- anyway ! When it comes to his daughter Pinoko, it's very hit or miss- when the writers lean on the cute father adoptive daughter relationship it's great, when they lean more on the whole "she has a crush on him" (very much like a child in most case, and he *never* reciprocate thank god) and bring up the fact she is technically 18 a lot (she was an evil tumor trapped in her sister before he created a body for her- black jack shit dw), and she gets jealous of other women.... Well it's terrible and I'm uncomfy :(

EVA KANT (Diabolik)

Look.... You just can't show me danger diabolik 1968 and not expect me to become insane djdkdkdk she is so cool ;; !!! Her and her devious eel of a man (here as a panther, because even tho I haven't read the comic yet, I'm taking an educated guess that all the panther imagery is here to represent him, the lethal twunk always in the all black gimp suit... And if it's not then fuck my entire life ig fjfkkd), the cuntiest het couple you've ever seen, such freaks I love them ! Partners in crime that will blow up the tax offices of the whole country if you try to put a bounty on them <3 they are in the guilty faves category only because I'm this invested in these characters after 1 (one) movie fkfkf watched the first two remakes and was hmmm let's say underwhelmed, could have been worse but going after the 60s one ie peak cinema was hard... I went in fully invested in these heterosexuals and they still fucked up their romance and relationship ;; (don't spoil me the third one btw haven't seen it yet ! I know it's the yaoi one- which doesn't give me much hope for Eva tbh...) I'll soon start reading the comics tho ! Managed to find all twelve volumes of "Il grande Diabolik" in french for pretty cheap so I'm excited for that :D (might scan them and upload them online because omg I tried finding scans in *any* language and only found a dubious website that sold digital copies for 7€ a volume ??? What is this)

UTA (The Void / Тургор / Turgor / Tension)

Apathy girlyyyyy she just like me for real for real nfkfk what absolutely charmed me about her is yes her design, but more importantly her chamber's design (if you've never played the void, a sister's chamber is a space that represent her. You get a sense of who she is by exploring her chamber before finding her and talking to her soul it's great). The lonely island out at sea, her laying down on a suspended steel boat in a grotto, looking passively at the moon by a crack on the ceiling.... And the moon is looking back. Incredible ! I love this game so much

KIM KITSURAGI (Disco Elysium)

Do I really have to explain this one ? When I played the game with quiji I remember I kept saying "when Kim talks, we *listen*" djkdk we did get a good grade in Kim Kitsuragi and got him to dance in the church <3 this fucking centrist cop wormed it's way into my heart and many others because of course he did. The only Kim K in my eyes. Also funny anecdote : before I played Disco Elysium, I had one concept art masterclass where a kinda famous concept artist came to give advice, make us really stressed then give us a shitty grade.... And when I tell you this man looked so much like Kim ??? Same haircut, glasses, face with a scar *exactly* where Kim's portrait has a stark shadow on his cheek and he was dressed in an orange top- truly uncanny. Anyway, Kim is so fucking cool how does he do it

DARK VADOR (La guerre des étoiles)

*sight* not surprising if you know me... and to be clear when I say Vader I don't mean Anakin Skywalker, post barbecue only zouz here. I refuse to yap about this man djdkdk I already do that way to much in ao3 comment sections

And here is the template I used ! Don't know who made it tho sorry...

PS : all these where made in 2-3 hours each :D wanted to challenge myself by painting quickly, and I mostly (looking at the Eva Kant one that gave me trouble) succeeded !

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purinfelix · 2 months ago

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Gavi bf headcannons 👉👈

pablo gavi bf headcanons ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a/n: aaaa haven't written for my baby in agesss thank u for this req anon !! (ik it's preeeetty old so i hope u don't mind sjdnfdksjnf)

★ was actually quite shy before the two of you started dating, and even at the beginning of your relationship - just because he seemed intimidated by the idea of you and didn't want to put a foot wrong when talking with you

★ but as soon as he got comfortable with you he's talking your ear off about everything

★ like i just know he has the craziest gossip from the lockerroom and has opinions on absolutely EVERYTHING

★ just so so so clingy like you're literally amazed at how he used to function before the two of you started dating bc now he can't go more than like a day without seeing you

★ it isn't like a possessive clinginess (in reality it's actually a lot simpler) - he just knows he feels happy around you, and he loves you, so why wouldn't he want to spend every waking minute with you?

★ like, if there is a situation in which you have to spend time apart he's not going to stop you, but just know he's not going to enjoy it at all and the minute you reunite he'll have to make up for lost time

★ that and maybe a thousand texts about how much he misses you or tiktoks because everything he sees reminds him of you

★ love language is 100% physical touch like is there even a question ...

★ and it's more than just hugs and kisses it's interlocked pinkies, goodnight kisses on the back of your nape - if the two of you are lying on the couch or bed doing your own thing he'll throw a leg over yours just to feel your touch

★ thinking about that time kuonde said he's really fun to tease bc he's so easy to rile up ... yeah

★ like of course it's all loving but you just love the look on your boyfriend's face when you tease him - his pout and pleading eyes ...

★ definitely not a morning person at all, you've spent way too many mornings struggling to wriggle out of his grip in fear of being late for work/class

"Baby, I need to go," you say sternly, though given the fact that you're boyfriend's eyes are still closed you don't feel confident you're going to get your way. "Mmf," is all you get in response, as well as him strengthening his grip on you and burying his face into the side of your stomach.

★ (just remembered that clip of him snoring LOL) - which you actually didn't notice for like a year into your relationship because he always made sure you fell asleep first, it just makes it easier for him to rest knowing you're comfortable

★ but one night when u woke up to get some water you were absolutely shocked by how loud he could be (you opted to sleep on the couch that night because you wouldn't have been able to rest otherwise - but he came and found u in less than an hour because the empty space next to him woke him up)

★ as much as he hates to admit it, he lovesss being babied like he'll try to hold out as long as he can and put on a big manly front but the minute you're cooing and calling him pet names he's melting immediately

★ doesn't fully understand things like makeup/hair/clothes but what he does know is when his girlfriend looks extra beautiful

"I like that thing you did with your hair today, it's really pretty," he hums as the two of you are getting ready to leave on a date. "Oh? My blowout?" "Yeah, sure, it looks good on you - same as when you get those little white lines on your nails done." "French tips?" "Yeah, you tell your nail lady that and I'll pay for it."

#pablo gavi #gavi #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fic #pablo gavi oneshot #fanfic #football #oneshot #fc barcelona #jet writes ★#purinfelix #jet answers ✧

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rootspiral · 2 months ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 2 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

Hey tumblr queers and agathario enthusiasts (I see you guys in the comments! @crybabyheathen, sorry to cause you so much distress! @onceuponalegendbg: I KNOW, RIGHT?? @ragnarockz thank you for being a butch!Agatha truther ❤️❤️)

Let's start episode 2, Circle Sewn with Fate / Unlock Thy Hidden Gate. Which, yes, has no Rio. But it has Lilia! Se let's count our blessings!!

oh my god girl, calm down! she's gone! focus!

that's a beautiful composed shot, with billy's head next to the rabbit, already telling us that he's going to become a son to Agatha

lmao she's about to bolt

aaaand she stops dead in her tracks when Billy mentions the Road. Look at her reflection again! that's so deliberate and so intriguing. how would you guys interpret it?

the Ballad theme playing in the background again. Agatha takes a whole step back when she hears the words "the Witches' Road" and immediately says no. she might be despicable, but there's no way she's getting a kid involved. especially not this kid. because they are somehow connected, otherwise how would she know about the car crash? even without knowing that this is Billy, she already cares about him. and she doesn't lie to him, even the tarots will say so. she might just, you know, omit things or even tell the truth from a certain point of view (already working on her obi-wan ghost mentor tricks)

"The road is no place to a kid." and so he was christened

but I can't stop staring at that rabbit picture. were the set people told to find the brightest bunny they could find? they really want you to notice it

now he's hopping like a bunny too! yes his legs are still tied, but I'm telling you it's all deliberate!! (insert either the pepe silvia or the I've connected the dots meme here)

don't tell him THAT. now he's gonna internalize it and accidentally kill you all one by one. christ.

girl you just got thrown around the room like a rag doll. you put together that outfit in two minutes, didn't even take a shower. you have no make up on. are you wearing ralph's shoes. is that his hat. (her being so frazzled speaks of how shell-shocked she is, she would usually take time to perfect the way she looks, because her looks is her armor)

billy is bullshitting too, he just googled her last night. I mean, I'm 100% convinced he cares about Agatha, but he is faking at least some of that trust and innocence (and good for him because she's a menace)

great, she found the brooch and nicky's hair. who needs a heart anyway, here, tear it out of my chest why don't you

Lilia has such beautiful handwriting. what a multitalent

NO, agatha. BAD agatha. now she's decided she might as well throw a little Road together and kill two or three idiots while keeping the boy safe on the side, which HISTORICALLY HAS NOT WORKED WELL FOR HER. how can she be so smart and SO STUPID

this also goes in the Top 5 Funniest Things Agatha's Ever Done list. now picture again all the dramatic car scenes from episode 1

covens are drawn together by fate and are the truest form of sisterhood??? why is rewatching this show kind of like being repeatedly stabbed in the heart???!!!??

look billy, it's the house where you were born! it was incredibly weird. a stork was there. (oh god, I just realized Billy is 3 years old)

Agatha spits at Wanda's home because a) she hates wanda and b) she hates that people hate wanda. this is the equivalent of being a queer kid and seeing faggot written on a locker (do I need to censor words? do tiktok rules apply now? I haven't written tumblr posts in so long)

except that, as Lilia will tell you, agatha has done a lot to smear witches' reputations, so yeah. consequences of her own actions etc.

be cool, man. mama is having the worst hangover of her life.

oh yes, Billy's boyfriend, Boyf.

shut up agatha, you know you wanna protect that little twink with your whole life

I almost wish I had an extra hour so I could gif agatha throwing the pen out of the window.

don't steal other people's pearls you hooligan (but see? clothes and accessories are props to her)

(by the way you won't find any Billy hate here, because I adore parent-children, mentor-mentee and found family relationships. and I think he's a sweetheart)

agatha discreetly snatching the eviction notice from the door. always thinking ahead, always scheming. the con master at work

*angel choir*

✨✨LILIA CALDERU✨✨

this show gave me a tragic villainous middle aged lesbian, which is literally my catnip, and she's only like, my second favorite character. which tells you all you need to know about the powers of dame Patti LuPone (I know she's not technically a dame) (yet) (I don't care if she's american Chucks, get to it!)

that's all I have time for tonight, can't wait to get me some ✨✨✨✨ Lilia scenes ✨✨✨✨

go to episode 2 part 2

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #billy maximoff #character study #lilia calderu #kathryn hahn #patti lupone #joe locke

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aryxchse · 9 months ago

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school president and the troublemaker. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n ; hello ya'll it's ya fav daughter of hera writer, this fic is written while i listened to my 'old bts songs' playlist, you know i'm talkin' about you just one day!!!

warnings : cursing, teenagers (that's should be a warning), this is writed by according to my countries school rules so deal with it, also grover, y/n, annabeth and percy are my favorite gang fr, rival-ish friends to lovers??, percy beating the shit out of some guy, mentions of staring, blood, no kiss on the lips ugh

"i fucking hate mondays," the son of poseidon whined, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning his head on them.

the first two class was history, which it didn't made anything better for him. he was a math guy, he didn't liked reading and stuff. but you and annabeth seemed to really enjoy it, even though annabeth is literally dislexic while your adhd was messing with your head.

grover sighed in front of him, leaning his head back until it rested on percy's desk. "i know right?" he said, fixing his green beanie. annabeth and you sighed, rolling your eyes at the two lazy boys.

"oh please, today's class is about mythology. i'm going to fuck that bitch up," annabeth said, smiling at you. you smiled back, knowing how much she hated your history teacher.

"you're fucking every teacher beth." percy yawned next to you, looking at the blonde girl. "they all hate you at this point for real."

"don't care," annabeth shrugged, looking like she was proud of herself. which she was. "they should educate people with truth, not a fucking lie."

"speak louder queen!" you agreed with her, while taking notes to your clipboard. there was a lot of shit going on in this big ass school, and you didn't know why you wanted to be a president of it this much.

at the beginning of the year, percy told you that you shouldn't get ahead of yourself—meaning that you guys can get expelled any day. but it never happened, it was yours second year in this school. three demigod's and one satyr, in the same school for two years. they should write and teach this in history too!

you had a way of talking out of problems, so whenever you four caused a trouble, everyone acted like nothing happened because of the mist. you controlled it in some type of way, because you wanted to be a president of some school before you become an adult.

back to now, percy peeked from your shoulder to see what you were writing on the clipboard.

— TO DO LIST —

visit the art, music and sport club to see if they need anything ✓

send the principal the needs of the clubs ✓

hang the new concert posters to schools board ✓

check if the p.e class needs anything

meeting with the other members at 13.00, lunch break

take the list of needed books in the library and hand the list to principal ✓

help the teachers or principal with the paperwork or sending them to where they should go ✓ (done for today)

you tapped your pen on the clipboard, focusing on the tasks you haven't done yet. percy sighed next to you, getting overwhelmed with how much work you had.

percy and annabeth was in the president club thingy with you, annabeth was the leader of the library club while percy was the sport clubs. they handed you the lists you writed on your clipboard. percy joined you to skip some classes and spend some time with you while annabeth just liked to be in charge.

"i didn't know we had a meeting today," percy whispered to you as the bitchy history teacher came into class. you rolled your eyes at the boy, putting the clipboard away to open your history notebook.

"i literally texted it in our groupchat. but you decided to ignore it and write 'what are we doing after school tomorrow?'" you reminded him. percy was about to answer you, but the teacher started yelling.

"alright kids, today we're learning about the twelve olympians and their wars!"

the four of you tried your hardest to not laugh, instead sharing side-eyes.

"man, for the first time this class will be fun," percy said, resting his cheek on his palm.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the class was indeed fun.

annabeth had so much fun fixing the teacher's every mistake while the rest of you tried not to laugh. but you took notes anyway. you wrote the notes in ancient greek for the gang to copy from you, since they had dislexia and couldn't read.

"you're the best," annabeth said, kissing your cheek as you handed her the notes. you smiled, blowing a kiss to her way as a response. grover sat next to annabeth while eating a vegan sandwich, and percy was trying to get a drink from the machine.

"ya'll have any more cents?" percy asked, angry at the machine. you sighed and stood up, giving a good kick to the machine. it started working again, dropping percy's blue coke with some snacks. you smiled at him, flipping your hair while you returned to your seat.

"like i didn't know how to do that," he murmured, taking his drink with his now free snacks. he gave the chips to annabeth while handing the m&m's to you. he took the fish cracker to himself, holding it in his mouth to open his coke.

there was this little table at the end of the corridor, right next to the food machine. it was you guys usual spot, and everyone knew it. except the lunch times at the cafeteria, you four always hanged around here.

annabeth rested her back against the wall, laying her feet on top of grover's lap. the satyr didn't mind, since they usually sit like that. your seat was in front of annabeth, as you rested your head against your palm, taking a support from the wall. percy leaned against you, putting his whole weight on you while he eated the fish crackers messily.

you paid no attention to him as you wrote something on your clipboard again. "did we have anything missing in p.e class? like some new basketball's?"

annabeth looked up as she thinked for a moment. "the new one we got apperantly blowed up, at least that's what james told me." you groaned, smashing your head -gently- to the table. "i fucking hate basketball team."

"same," grover said, eating percy's now empty diet coke. "they're like hydra's."

percy laughed at that, making a fist bump with grover.

"when was the meeting again?" grover asked after the laugh session with percy. you groaned again, head still on the table. "read the fucking group chat for gods' sake!"

"man, chill." grover raised his hands in defeat. annabeth closed her own notebook while handing you yours. "thanks babe." she said, patting your head gently. you only made thumbs up to her, leaving the notebook on the table.

percy sighed and sat straight, putting your notebook in your bag. he held you by the waist and made you lean to his shoulder, taking your clipboard away from you. "you've already done almost everything here, the others are useless." he said, voice soft.

you hugged percy's arm to support yourself and annabeth slightly smiled to herself. as your chin rested on top of his shoulder, you looked at the clipboard. "i know but the p.e class is worst than everything i did there, it's so tiring."

"i can help you, you know." he said, putting the clipboard on the table and looking at you. you pulled yourself away to look in his eyes. how those ocean eyes can held so much care in them?

"but you hate checking p.e class," you said quietly, hands still lazily on his bicep. he smirked, putting his own hand on top of yours.

"if it's going to make you shut up, then i'll be glad to help." he teased, and you can see it in his expression. you only rolled your eyes, smile betraying your fake annoyance.

"wow, what a nice man you are percy jackson." you complimented, patting his bicep. he flexed them while he gave you a cocky look. "i know pretty."

"i'm gonna throw up," annabeth said, still smiling. grover nodded, gagging playfully. you both sticked your tongue out to them, chuckling.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"that's it, i'm not fucking letting you help me through the p.e class check again." you hissed, making percy sit on the infirmary bed.

he fucking had a fight. apperantly some guy from the soccer team checked you out in that pretty school skirt of yours, and percy noticed it. you didn't know why he was this protective or annoyed when it camed to other guys, but now you had to deal with his bloody lip and eyebrow.

"he was fucking you with his eyes, what i was gonna do? give him a view?" he snapped back, his normally sweet shade of sea green eyes now as dark as a storm. you hated when percy looked at you like this. his hatred was easier to see. it wasn't towards to you, it's never towards to you. but you can't help but feel like you're being attacked too.

"nothing, percy. nothing!" you said, your own eyebrows furrowed. no one was in the infirmary because the school sucked at being responsible. you made sure to point this to principal too.

luckily, your best friend was a demigod, who can heal with water. but unluckily for you, there was no water near. so, you had to caress his wounds like the old ways. still, he healed much faster than a mortal could.

the moment alcoholed cotten touched his lip, he hissed. "what the fuck you mean nothing?" he said, but his voice wasn't loud. "you- you had a crush on him or something?" the last sentence camed out his lip weak.

you rolled your eyes at the boy, who's now had a worried expression on his face. you couldn't understand why, but he looked like he could cry if you touched him. "don't tell me you have a crush on that fucking asshole. you can't be serious, i mean- have you seen hi-"

"percy shut up for gods' sake!" you yelled and he jumped. it made you feel a bit bad, but he was not making any sense. you stopped wiping the blood and cleaning the wound on his lip, now starting to put some bandages on it.

"i don't have a crush on the guy, i don't even know who he is." you explained, now wiping his eyebrow. he didn't flinched on this one, instead he was focused on you. "but you can't just attack people just because they're looking at me."

"he wasn't looking, y/n/n. he was literally-"

"fucking me with his eyes, i know." you shushed him gently with your words, your eyes holding too much care in them. weren't you questioning his eyes back then?

you were standing in between percy's legs, and you both were face to face, even though he was sitting. his expression was soft once again, and his eyes shined like always. you held his chin gently while carefuly treating the wound. "but he didn't dared to do anything, did he?"

"i would like to see him fucking try." he hissed.

"believe me, he wouldn't." you assured him, now bandaging him once again. he had a confused look on his face, but one side of him telled him you were right. "those guys like that can do nothing but stare."

there was a silence between you two now. percy kept sitting on the bed while you put away the first aid kit. after that you camed back to your previous place in between percy's legs, hands resting on his thigh.

he gently held your wrists in return, thumbs caressing the place gently. the boy was in the other infirmary in school, since they didn't want to put him in the same place as percy. you wondered how was the boy, because percy was literally about to kill him.

"how am i gonna get a boyfriend if you keep attacking the boys around me?" you joked, and for the first time, percy didn't laughed. he still looked down on your now intertwined hands, looking like he was in some kind of a trance.

you didn't want a boyfriend anyways, you wanted percy. the joke was to lighten the mood, but to also see his reaction. you we're having suspicions or delusions lately, about him liking you back. and you wanted to get a real answer for yourself.

luckily for you, percy was about to give you one.

"i don't want you to have a boyfriend, to be honest." he whispered, his forehead resting on your shoulder. your cheek -you didn't know why- immediatly found it's place on his head, smelling the salt water scent he had.

"why? you wanna keep me to yourself?" you chuckled, asking what you wanted to ask for a long time in a jokeful way.

"yeah, actually." he said.

you frozed. you wanted to keep your actions as warm as possible for him to not think you would ever reject him. you did wanted to get some real answers, but not stomach flipping, toe curling and cheek blushing one like this. your heart beated so fast that you thought you we're having a heart attack, and your breath hitched.

"what?" you managed to ask softly, and your voice felt like an angel to his ears.

"i'm sorry i-" he choked in his own words, afraid to face you. he still kept his head on your shoulder, in fact; he nuzzled into your neck a bit. "i don't want to ruin our friendship, but... in some way i do."

you chuckled, and he felt like the weight on his shoulders lifted.

"i kinda want that too," you whispered back, hands now caressing his bicep. his hands find their way onto your waist, holding you firmly close to himself. his heart was about to pop out from his body and met with yours, just chilling inside your body instead of his. weird way to express what he was feeling, but percy was never good with words anyway.

"yeah?" he breathed out, his smile can be heard from his voice. your own smile matched his, so bright that sun would be jealous. "since when?"

"oh man, i don't want to answer this." you joked, and he laughed. that's the react you've been waiting for. "you'd think i'm obsessed with you."

he raised his face from your neck to look at you, his eyes shining as bright as the sky now. you loved how his emotions reflected in his eyes, making him not be able to hide anything. you knew him better than anyone else anyways, he was always an open book to you.

"oh please, i don't have the right to judge you when i'm this whipped." he said, making you laugh. "we're we even friends this whole time?"

you laughed harder. "you know what? i think the fuck not." you answered through giggles. "we we're just two idiots who pretended to be friends."

as you both laughed there, to your whole situation, percy hugged you tight. an air escaped your lips in suprise, but you were quick to hug him back.

"you don't have any idea how relieved i am right now," he mumbled to your neck, leaving a few light kisses there. your hands caressed his raven hair, massaging the scalp. "i love you, so fuckin' much."

"i love you too, seaweed brain." you said back quietly, kissing on top of his head.

he was about to kiss you on the lips when annabeth and grover barged in.

"finally you idiots!" annabeth said, crossing her arms and resting her back on the door frame. grover put his arm on her shoulder, smirking.

"it's about fucking time, eh?"

#haha #what is this #can u say the end is rushed??#i didn't know where to make them confess #i just want some k drama type of shit with my bae percy #percy jackson #percy x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show #pjo tv show #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

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୨୧ ＭｏｄｅｒｎＬｏｖｅ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: criminal!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!waitress!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: crime au/a mix of fluff & angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: Your friends always told you that Kim Mingyu was trouble but when he shows up unexpectedly at your job, covered in bruises with a bag of stolen money, you see how much trouble he really can be.

୨୧ Word Count: 3.5kish

୨୧ Warnings: mention of blood/injuries, a gun that's not used but is in there, strong language, unprotected sex, a lil bit of rough sex, fingering, creampie, & that's all I'm pretty sure

୨୧ A/N: I haven't written in a bit and I really wanted to start writing something crime related so here we are 🖤

There’s a lot you’ve come to tolerate waitressing at the diner. Customers with shitty attitudes who leave even shittier tips. Line cooks who get every other order wrong only to blame you because you must have mixed their tickets up somehow. The thin layer of grease that lingers on your clothes, leaving the scent of day old fries to haunt you even after you’ve washed your uniform a thousand times. All of that you can tolerate but this, your boss screaming at you like some psychopath, never fails to make your blood boil.

It’s always something with him. This time it’s that you didn’t refill the ketchup last night before close even though you weren’t the one who closed. The waitress who closed, a soft spoken girl who only started a week ago, called in this morning to quit just like every other waitress before her. The only girls insane enough to stick around are you and Moon, the waitress who trained you and the only person you’ve ever seen go toe to toe with your boss.

His screaming’s getting louder but you can’t even hear it. You zoned out ages ago. It’s like watching a TV on mute. If not for the growing redness of his face or the flinches of the passing food runners, you wouldn’t know a thing. Everyday you think about quitting. You lay in bed fantasizing about a life where you don’t have to put up with this to survive but in the end you always roll out of bed and show up.

What else are you supposed to do? You weren’t born into money and, luck never quite being on your side in life, it's not likely to just fall into your lap. So this is it. This. Is. It. Your stomach sinks as your boss steps closer, the veins in his hairy neck straining enough to pop a blood vessel. This can’t be it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Moon shouts, pushing through the double doors behind you. The noise of the kitchen cuts back in at a dizzying speed. Dishes clanking, grease sizzling, water running, cooks calling out orders.

“You don’t talk to me that way!” your boss shouts back, dialing down his rage as he aims it at Moon. She pulls her dark hair back into a tight ponytail, cornering him against a rack of dirty dishes. “You don’t talk to her that way! The next time I hear you yelling at her I’ll report you to the health department for all of the little critters we have running around here or would you like me to tell the customers first?” He wants to say something to her but he can’t.

He knows she’s serious enough that she’d pop on a glove and go show off the bug traps to every customer packed into the questionably clean booths of the dining room. “Get back to work!” he snaps, “Both of you!” With that he storms off to his office mumbling every misogynistic thought in his pea brain. Moon turns to you, giving you a hug. You let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the comfort of her arms even though she smells like sandwiches. You do too.

“I fucking hate him.” “Fucking hate him for sure” she agrees, “But I know something that’ll cheer you up.” “What could possibly make me feel better?” Moon grabs you by the shoulders and directs you to the small round window on the door, “Your boyfriend’s here. Looks a little beat up though. Wonder what he got into this time.” Before she can finish her sentence and launch into another lecture about your choice in men, you’re racing to the booth in the corner where Mingyu sits patiently waiting for you.

He spots you in an instant, jumping up to give you a hug and soothe the panic that paints your face. A little beat up is an understatement. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. A busted lip here. A bruised eye there. A bandaged cut on the side of his neck. His knuckles skinned and raw. Your hands don’t know where to go or what to inspect. They’re just frantically skimming his frame, dreading the next surprise. “What happened?”

Mingyu tries to downplay it, apprecating that you’re worried for him but still not wanting you to worry too much. “Baby, I’m okay. Calm down.” He’s lying and you both know it. Everytime something like this happens he tries to shrug it off, pretending that he doesn’t get hurt worse and worse each time he gets back from one of his "jobs". “How can I calm down? Look at you.” “Look at me? What does that mean? Don’t you think I’m pretty?” he teases, placing his hands on your cheeks. Even with his fingers all beat up and achy, he has the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt.

He smiles and all you can do is smile back. Of course you think he’s pretty, the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, and you’re a sucker for him in the worst way. So much that you forget for a few fleeting seconds that there’s the lightest spot of blood seeping through the crisp white bandage on his neck. “Cute but I still need you to tell me what’s going on” you persist, glancing back to catch Moon watching over you as she works her tables.

Mingyu turns you back to look at him, the wildness in his deep brown eyes thrilling and frightening you all at once.

“You trust me don’t you?”

“Ming—”

“Do you trust me?”

“I mean, duh, of course I trust you but—”

“Then quit” he says as if it’s nothing. As if this job isn’t the only thing paying for the hole in the wall apartment you rent up the street. “I can’t just quit. I need this job.” Mingyu presses his forehead to yours, bringing his arms around your waist to hold you closer. “Not anymore. I can take care of you now. I just really need you to trust me and come with me. We don’t have a lot of time.”

It’s impossible to make sense of anything he’s saying when he’s being this vague. You have a million questions and no time to ask them. “Hey! Play with your boyfriend on your own time!” your boss shouts from across the counter, “Get back to these tables before I fire your ass!” Mingyu’s jaw clenches, his temper ready to erupt on your boss for daring to speak to you that way. “I got this” you whisper, rubbing his shoulders to cool him down. He’s already had enough action for one day. The last thing he needs is another scuffle.

Your boss goes on rambling but this time you don’t drown him out. You hear every word. Every disgusting, vile thing he can spew in your direction. The thought of dealing with this every single day is torture. Mingyu's way out, whatever it is, has to be better than this. Your friends might not agree, Moon would surely have you thrown in an asylum, but you have to trust Mingyu or risk this being the rest of your life.

Grabbing a pitcher of ice water from one of the tables, you calmly approach the counter and throw it in your boss’ face. “Oh my god” Moon gasps, covering her mouth to hide her amusement. “Do it yourself. I quit. Mingyu, let’s go.” You march out of the diner, ripping your apron and name tag off as your sneakers hit the dirt of the parking lot. Your palms are sweaty, your heart’s racing, and you have no idea what’s gotten into you but it feels good. “That was sick” Mingyu applauds, kissing your fluffy cheeks, “I didn’t know my girlfriend was such a badass.” “Shut up” you giggle as he guides you to his car, a vintage deathtrap that his father gifted to him.

Mingyu seats you on the passenger's side, picking up a heavy black duffle bag from the floor and plopping it onto your lap. You stare down at it, too afraid to even touch it. With Mingyu’s line of work anything could be in this bag. Not a body, of course, it’s much too small for that. But guns? Drugs? “Just open it” he says, starting the car. You’ve been so deep in your own thoughts, running through the possibilities of what’s in the bag, of what happened to his face, that you hadn’t even noticed him get into the car.

Noticing your hesitance, he reaches over and unzips the bag. “It won’t bite, honey” he promises, turning out of the parking lot and leaving you to take in the bundles of crinkled money packed into the bag. You carefully pick one out, fanning through it like a deck of cards. There’s more money here than you’ve ever seen. More than most people will ever see.

“Whose money is this?”

Mingyu shrugs, flicking on the radio, “Mmm, it’s ours.”

“You asked me to trust you now I need you to trust me. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Mingyu made a promise to himself when you first started dating that he’d keep the other side of him hidden. He loves the way that you see him. You see him as his most ideal self. As the man he wishes he could be all of the time and not who he has to become when you aren’t together. But you were bound to find out one day and if today has to be that day then so be it. “You know how I do drop offs for the mob?” You nod, your fingers still petting the edges of the money like one would a new puppy or a luxurious fur coat.

“I do pickups too. Retrivals I guess. If people owe money and they don’t pay up it’s my job to go get it even if it means I have to hurt them...” He trails off, fearful of your reaction, but you only listen attentively, free of judgment. “Earlier I had one of those pickups” he continues, “Things got kind of crazy. A lot of people got hurt.” He flexes his hand, wincing at the pain. “Including me but, you know, at least I’m alive. The other guy...anyway. I was supposed to take the money back but I didn’t. I kept it for us.”

You insantly regret ever pressing him for this information. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss and you've just given it up. “So you killed someone?” “I kinda had to.” “Right. You kinda had to kill someone and stole a bunch of mob money now we’re—we’re on the run aren’t we?” Mingyu nods, chewing on the inside of his lip, “We are.” “Oh, fun. I’m dead. We’re dead. They’re gonna chop our heads off.” “No one’s chopping your head off! They don’t even do that anymore. It’s more of a burning the whole body thing. Buried alive usually.”

“Not helping!”

“I’m sorry!”

Mingyu tosses the bag into the backseat, freeing your lap up for his hand to massage your thigh. Your legs are shaky, every part of you is, and no amount of massaging can stop it. “This is a lot. It’s so fucking much. I can’t even…” Leaning your head back against the headrest, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. “I never meant to put you in danger” he says softly, “We spend so many nights talking about the life we want. A better life. You deserve it and I just want to give you that so when I saw the opportunity I took it. If it means anything, I’d die before I let anyone hurt you. I’ll protect you with my life.”

You open your eyes to catch him staring at you, his attention only half on the road where it should be. He means every word he says, no matter how fucked up his methods are. A part of you can’t stand him for what he’s done and you can't stand yourself for how small that part of you is. In a matter of minutes he managed to destroy the life you knew. A life you’ve been longing to destroy yourself for far too long but never had the courage to. You can’t hate him for that. In fact, in some strange, twisted way you've never loved him more.

You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. The two of you had plans to go out for dinner after you hopped out of the shower but hours of driving in no particular direction had exhausted you. The moment you sat down on the bed of the floral wallpapered motel room you were out like a light. Mingyu can’t bring himself to wake you up. You deserve the rest, he figures, after all he sprung onto you.

He has no real idea where you are. Your cellphones were tossed off a bridge two towns ago and every road sign in whatever nowhere town you stopped in is too faded too read. There’s no way anyone will find you here when you can’t even find yourselves. Even still, Mingyu finds himself pacing the floor in the darkness of the motel room, a handgun held tightly in his right hand. Paranoia weighing heavy on him, he wishes that he could fall asleep but every time he relaxes in the slightest another set of headlights beam through the curtains and he’s on his feet again.

What if someone followed you? What if they spotted his car? He truly would protect you with his life. But what if he failed? “Idiot” he huffs, hitting himself on the side of the head. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not hitting my boyfriend. Thank you very much” you yawn, stretching out, your eyes only cracked enough to make out his fuzzy silhouette. You snuggle up to his side of the bed, the blanket quite cozy against your bare skin for something that's for sure been here since the 90’s. You try not to think about it, your focus quickly shifting to the gun in Mingyu’s hand.

“When’d you get a...” you start but abandon your question. When’d he get a gun? That’s silly to ask. Of course he has a gun, probably a few. Why wouldn’t he? “Put that thing away and come to bed.” “You worry too much. I’m good. You rest.” Outstretching your arms, you pout and kick your feet knowing that he's a softie for your tantrums. “Five minutes. That’s it. Please” you whine and he’s already dragging himself over to the bed, reluctantly tucking his gun into the bedside table.

By now the haze of sleep has fallen away, offering you a clear view of the gorgeous man hovering above you. “Stop looking at me like that” he blushes, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. It sends sparks through your system, stealing your breath away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mingyu leans down to kiss you, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to ride the curves of your body. “You don’t?” he asks, nibbling at your bottom lip. He presses a thumb into the tender flesh of your thigh, feeling your body tremble the way you did in the car.

Only now it’s not because you’re scared. Fear is the furthest thing from your mind. It’s because you’re craving some relief, craving him, badly enough that the faintest brush of his thumb over your clit has you snatching him on top of you. Your tongue’s down his throat, legs thrown around his waist, hips raised to feel the bulge fighting to free itself from the confines of his jeans. Nothing gets Mingyu hotter than when you’re like this, clawing his clothes off as his fingers delight in the velvet warmth between the lips of your pussy. “Ming—” you gasp at how effortlessly his fingers glide into you. Your walls flutter in excitement as if to welcome him home and he couldn’t be happier to be back.

“You’re dripping, baby” he coos, pulling out just enough to glimpse your juices coating his fingers. You reach between you, finally feeling the heat of his cock in your palm, and stroke his length, collecting pearls of his arousal each time you run over the tip. “So are you” you tease, grinning at the way his hips stutter. With one arm holding himself up and the other busy between your legs, his muscles flex in a certain way that makes your mouth water. In your eyes his body’s a work of art and the feeling couldn’t be more mutual.

Your body’s so soft, so sensual, that he’s dying to be inside of you just to see the way your body jiggles each time he thrusts into you. Your muscles tighten, the ecstasy coursing through your veins making you feel lightheaded. “Make love to me” you say in the sweetest voice, not begging nor demanding, simply confessing how much you need him. Mingyu twitches in your hand, his heart skipping more than a few beats. Without a word, his hands are gripping your plush hips as he guides himself to your entrance.

He takes his time, rubbing the tip in the wetness escaping your core, bumping it against your clit to make you quiver. You rub his biceps, nails digging into his arms, giving him such a rush that he can’t tease you any longer. He delves into your core, feeding his length into you gradually until every inch of him fills you. “So beautiful” he whispers, kissing between your breasts as he strokes in and out of you. His tongue traces the contours of your breast, flicking at your nipple before his lips wrap around it. Nibbling, suckling, all while watching the faces you make when he hits that sensitive spot.

He’s throbbing inside of you, so tight against your walls that you swear you can feel the blood rushing through those pretty veins that run up his cock. It’s sweet of him starting out slow but you want more. You press down onto him, using the minimal space between your bodies to ride him, picking up the pace. Mingyu gets the hint, rising to his knees as he presses yours to your chest. “You said make love to you” he says, his hands tucked behind your knees, “If you wanted me to fuck you, you should’ve just said so.”

He kisses you ravenously, like he wants to consume you entirely, wasting no time pulling back to bounce you on his cock, his hips moving faster with each thrust. Mingyu palms the softest part of your stomach, caressing it as his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, feeling your breath as you cry out his name. “Mingyu—ah—yes—fuck. Harder!” you scream and this time you are begging.

Never being a man to deny you what you want, he obeys. Harder, faster, impossibly deeper, until you feel him in every part of you. Holding onto his wrists, you surrender, letting yourself get lost in him. So lost that you’re caught off guard by the sudden explosion of the pressure that's been building inside of you. Your lids barely fall shut before they’re shooting back open, your body quivering as your orgasm barrels down on you. Mingyu’s hypnotized by the sight of you, addicted to the way you gush and clench around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. So pretty when you cum for me, aren’t you? So so pretty. Mmm—.” He wants to hold back, to at least try, but it’s no use. How can he hold back anything with you? It only takes one more pulse of your walls for him to come undone, barely able to maintain his thrusts as he spills into you. You’d feel this forever if you could. The warmth and the fullness. You’re so greedy for it, taking every drop until he’s collapsed beside you trying to come back down to earth.

Using the last bit of energy in your body, you lay your head on his chest, tossing the blanket over the two of you. “Tomorrow you’ll teach me how to shoot?” Mingyu wraps an arm around you, gently petting your hair. “You? With a gun? No way.” You nod, intimidated but confident in your decision, “We’re in this together now aren’t we? It’s not just about you protecting me. I wanna protect you too. So teach me.”

His instinct is to tell you no, that he can protect both of you on his own, but he knows it’s not fair. He’s the one who drug you into this, the least he can do is show you how to defend yourself.

“I’ll teach you. Tomorrow,” he relents, “But tonight it’s back to sleep, okay?”

"Only if you promise to stay here with me.”

“Always.”

Silence falls across the room and, as you drift back off to sleep, you know there’s so much more to that “always”. “Always” doesn’t just mean tonight or tomorrow. It’s more than next week or next year. It stretches far beyond whatever hell might lie before you. It means forever. It means that Mingyu would go to the ends of the earth for you. And there’s no way you won’t be by his side when he does.

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen au #seventeen angst #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

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kameyyy · 5 days ago

Text

PASSION; atsumu miya x reader

CHAPTER 1: red

cw: cursing, mention of a deceased grandparent, mention of dysfunctional family, lowkey unreliable memories, mention of alcohol use, umber is a color I don't mean amber, sry if I missed some [please refer to the general tags/warnings on the m.list !]

a/n: hi so I hope you'll enjoy !! this is my first ever written chapter in english and after like idk 4 years of writers block, so please be nice about it <3 I'm really excited to write this smau and I apologize for any grammar issues or typos !! I'm writing this at 6:30 am rn and I haven't slept yet lol so please bear with me

songs I violently played on repeat: Girl With One Eye ; Beatutiful Crime ; Claire ; Not

wc: 3.7k

She didn’t hear the front door of the shop creak open, nor the ring of the old bell attached to the ceiling sounding twice. He let his eyes roam suspiciously over the two steps of stairs in front of the door that led him further into the building, uneven and small, rough edges and splitting paint hidden behind a rug of yale blue that certainly has seen better years.

At first glance, the shop appeared messy. Countless rugs in various colors hung up on walls, spread out on the dark wood floor, or rolled up and stuffed together on shelves or any corners. The wallpaper was yellowed, partially wavy, and loose in places. Between the million rugs laid out underneath his feet, he spotted chipped parts of the wood floor and white dried-up paint smeared over it, seemingly by accident, as he moved over to the redwood counter and the person sitting behind it.

He wondered why his friend chose this specific shop for his rug. It was nothing like him, and not even close to the other stores he frequented. This one was cluttered, messy, and odd. The tips of the aloe vera on top of the counter were rolled tight and colored brown, balancing between life and death. Water and coffee stains adorned the counter top, dust settled in the corners and the jar with pens was tipped over. However, when his eyes landed on the stack of volleyball magazines spread messily next to the woman hunched over the counter, he suddenly understood his friend. He couldn’t make out her face since it was angled too far down, but instead, he clearly saw the video she was watching. A volleyball video. An interview of him.

This place reeks of a discount.

She doesn’t like the color red. It reminds her of the past she is trying her best to forget, or it announced bad times coming for her. But as much as she learned to hate this color, somehow, she found herself surrounded by all kinds of shades of it every day.

Her childhood bedroom had wallpaper colored in carmine red. Walls that witnessed her silent sobs, her figure slouched over the prickly carpet writing a myriad of essays, all those fights with her mother, and countless nights where the bed stayed untouched and cold. She used to love this specific shade of red, though all it did now was leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her school uniform had a tie colored in maroon. The fabric accompanied her to all those classes, where she repeatedly realized just how different she was from everybody else.

All her peers had their lives planned out already. They knew what to study, what job or company they wanted to work for, and at what age they wanted to get married. One child or two, the age difference no more than three years. A boy, or a boy and a girl. If they didn’t plan their life out this detailed, then they at least had an idea. Everybody had some sort of dream or goal to reach, unlike her.

She was lost in a maze with no way out, the fog imprisoning her growing denser with every passing year or thought she spent on ways to escape.

The counter was made of redwood and the countless rugs scattered around the shop, either hung or rolled up, were all colored in some shade of red. They watched her fail the attempts of trying to forget the past whenever she lets her gaze wander out the window. Her eyes focused on the building across the street as if she was looking for someone.

These rugs witnessed on cold fall days how she hung up a certain crimson red scarf on a coat rack behind the counter and sometimes stared at it a little too long, lost in thought. She got it as a gift a year before her high school graduation and never brought it over herself to toss it out of her life. It kept her warm on nights she turned her back to the locked front door of her house. Head hung low, sigh after sigh leaving chapped lips, a shiver from the biting cold of winter running through her body. Though moments later she was greeted happily in a certain house filled with warmth, laughter, and love. Umber eyes lifted unpleasant feelings and worries from her shoulders like a feather caught by a gush of wind. The scarf tagged along when she waited in front of the school gym, or when she laughed with the person that would later show her what passion truly felt like. Even when that passion was fueled by hate.

She was hunched over the countertop next to the cash register, her knuckles pressed against her temples as she kept her head low and eyes trained on the screen laid flat on the wood grain.

She couldn’t help it.

The wired earphones she wore were broken in and tangled, the sound quality wasn't the best, but it was enough for her 10-minute walk to work. Or, to watch this interview with her eyebrows scrunched while the shop was only filled with her figure and a faint buzzing sound coming from the break room. It went unnoticed — just like the person actually standing in front of her.

She doesn’t know why she keeps watching these stupid volleyball interviews with him in it. She doesn’t know why she googles his name at least once a month, on the lookout for new achievements he made in his life, but not to celebrate. And she doesn’t know why she keeps buying these damn magazines he’s printed on the cover of — or is somehow featured in.

She doesn’t know why she can’t let him go.

On her screen he stood proudly with a hand on his hip, the other running through his damp blonde hair while he answered the reporter's questions. His team won a match that was seemingly rather important. They talked a little too much about volleyball and teams she had never heard of before, though that was only because she always skipped the magazine pages that weren't about him, so she didn't really focus on what was said.

He carried himself with confidence, success was written all over his face. His hair wasn’t this awful yellow color anymore, it hadn’t been for a while, but rather a natural-looking blonde. He grew bigger, in muscles and size, compared to the last time she saw him in person years ago. He seemed more mature, though he was still the same and carried his signature smirk around, which she so desperately wished to wipe off his face.

It’s unfair. Life’s unfair. It had only been good to him, for some stupid reason. He had a happy family, confidence and looks like no other, passions and goals he worked hard for to achieve and maintain. On the other hand, life had been treating her like a pacifier lost on the streets. It made her bitter. It filled her with hate. It made her cry at night — because she doesn’t understand why.

He got everything he dreamed of, while she didn’t even get a dream.

“What is your ideal type of woman?” The reporter spoke, and the blonde man paused for a second, raising a hand to his chin in thought, before a sly grin spread over his lips. She found herself biting on the skin of her cheek, a small part of her anticipating his answer a little more than she’d ever admit.

“My type in women?” He blew a lost strand of hair out of his vision, his eyes glimmering in amusement. “Someone who knows what they want in life.”

She scoffed loudly, roughly ripping her earphones out of the shell of her ears, and throwing them on top of the table.

“What a dick.” She spat, venom rising to the back of her throat, daring to spill over like ink and red wine, staining her for years to come. She threw herself back in the creaking chair, nails roughly digging into the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded in offense.

Her eyes snapped up from the screen that still played the interview. In front of the counter, she was met with a broad figure in a burgundy red t-shirt and umber-colored irises. Her mouth went dry — and with it, her heart stopped beating for a second.

“What the fuck.”

Her sudden words of calling him a dick caught him off-guard. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had his lips parted for more words to come out, offense painted across his face, though they died on his tongue the second she threw her head back to look at him.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they took in one another.

It was her, to his delight. And it was him, to her misfortune.

He desperately tried to find his voice. He wanted to express all the feelings and questions swirling and burning inside his mind about her, after all those years, since they last saw each other. She pressed her jaw together tightly in an attempt to keep calm, the fight or flight instinct within her triggered. But she was working right now. Punching a customer would likely result in termination, as well as abandoning the shop.

He was the first one to break the silence again, a weak and nervous smirk painting his lips as he spoke.

“You’re a fan?” His eyes flickered to the interview still playing on the screen.

“Quite the opposite.” She scrunched her nose in disgust and quickly turned off the video.

Though, he simply raised his eyebrows, not buying a word she said, and instead nodded towards the stack of magazines next to her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that the magazine lying on the top of the stack had his face printed all over the cover. She cursed herself silently, the only one without him displayed on the front page, currently stuck under the left leg of her chair to keep it from tilting over.

“We sell those.” She said flatly, trying to seem indifferent about it, but the nervous biting of her lip betrayed her.

The corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the smile on his lips grew wide before his features ultimately softened. Umber eyes roamed over her face, taking in everything that changed or had stayed the same.

Her hairstyle was different, the bags she used to carry under her eyes weren’t as prominent anymore. But she still looked tired, her lips still chapped from her habit to gnaw at them whenever something bothered her.

He wondered if her troubles were different now. He hoped they were. Otherwise, everything he had given up — which was her — was pointless. Nonetheless, she resembled the same girl from years ago, though he knew she was different now. She looked at him differently, too.

“I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” He muttered, memories of their time spent together played in front of his inner eye.

“I wish it would’ve stayed that way, Miya.”

His name tasted weird and unfamiliar on her tongue. The last time they saw each other — which was years ago — she referred to him by his given name, though not nearly as civilized as she managed now. Ways were parted in hate and anger, insult after insult spat from her mouth like venom as she screamed at him, in hopes of making him hurt as much as she did in that very moment.

He wronged her. He broke the trust he had so patiently built up and did the one thing she begged him not to do, sealed with multiple pinky promises and reassuring smiles.

But suddenly her life fell apart. All because of him.

She was left with nothing except this ignited spark of hate, and she never managed to loosen the claw-like grip it had on her throat.

“How have you been?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, dying to know about her life since he lost her. It was the same soft tone and expression he had used on her years ago. On days when she came to him after she had found the front door to her house locked and her hopes for a better life in shambles.

“Don’t act like you care.” She pressed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling from frustration.

She shot a glance behind him at the only functioning clock hanging on the wall, next to many others that were either off by many hours or just stopped working completely. Some were small, some were big, and a few were oddly shaped. Metal, plastic, wood. Brown, gold, red. It was 6:53 pm and her shift for today would end in exactly 2 hours and 7 minutes. 2 hours and 7 minutes too long, stuck in this shop, with a man she never wanted to meet again.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he took a step closer to the redwood counter, placing his calloused hands on the rough edge of chipped wood. The murmur of her name fell from his lips like a low melody. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that?” She scoffed, disdain written all over her face as she jolted up from her chair, the palms of her hands slamming against the counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He winced when her chair hit the floor, avoiding her gaze as he tightened his grip, looking down to her hands sprawled out on the wood grain. Chipped redwood dug uncomfortably against his palms, he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, biting his cheek as if to force himself to make his next move.

He gulped as he carefully lifted his gaze back to her, silence hanging thick in the air between them.

Years ago, on a day that began like every other, he messed up and lost her completely. Today was similar, though this time he won’t let her stray far from him again. Their friendship meant a lot to him, even if he never openly admitted it, and he wanted to win her back. Make up for past mistakes and fix things, see her laugh at his stupid jokes or hear her cheer loudly for him during a volleyball match again.

He missed their late night talks in the quiet of his living room, arms softly brushing against each other and acting as if both didn’t notice their knees touching underneath the thin blanket. Hushed voices conversing from the floor and bottom bunk bed in his childhood bedroom, trying not to disturb his brother who always fell asleep first, and giggles muffled by their hands when his mother returned from a shift way past their bedtime, rushing up the stairs with adrenaline pumping through their veins.

He was uncharacteristically soft with her, doing small things his brother teased him about, like holding her hand under the pretense that she was walking too slow, or so she wouldn't get lost. Physical contact like this normally made her uncomfortable, but for him, she made an exception.

A wary look was painted on his features and his warm, calloused hand slowly cupped over her own, his thumb softly brushing over her knuckles in a calming manner, voice just as gentle. “Look, I’m sorry for what I’ve done-”

“No, you’re fucking not!” She cut him off with a snarl, swatting his hand away like a nasty fly. “You’re only sorry because your stupid attempt to ‘save me’ failed!”

He opened his mouth to object, his hand pulled close again as if he had burnt himself, though his words died on his tongue and he pressed his lips together tightly, running a hand through blonde hair.

Never before had she seen him this close to looking remorseful, though, she knew it was just faux feelings. If he hadn’t met her today, after roughly four years, he wouldn’t have spared a single thought on her. She was just a side character in his story, after all.

Atsumu Miya was the type of guy who spoke a lot and couldn’t ever shut up. Even when the situation called for it.

She only slept 4 hours? Well, he only slept three and has a stomach ache.

She tries to talk about her life at home? Too bad, suddenly he’s reciting every moment of his life, starting from when he was just a cell in his mother's womb.

Something was always on his mind. Anything he deemed worth expressing he spoke out loud, and often it was unnecessary, stupid, or left her questioning his common sense. When he didn’t talk over her or made every conversation about himself, he was too busy training and bickering with his brother.

Emotional, soft, and heart-to-heart conversations were impossible with him. This includes when she first opened up about her situation at home. Her voice was quiet, her hands trembled, and she made him promise a million times not to tell anyone else.

Opening up to someone filled her with anxiety. Somehow, she even feared his reaction. Would he be indifferent? Dismiss her completely, or tell her to suck it up? Would he get angry at her? Would he tell her mother? Or his brother and mother?

These are things she never had to worry about whenever she emailed her deceased grandmother, emails in which she thoroughly spoke about the things that had happened to her, dumping her thoughts and feelings. She had tried diaries before, but the fear of her mother discovering them or someone else led to her lying about the things she wrote about. But that destroys the purpose she bought the book for, no?

So she stopped, and poured out her heart's content in emails instead that no one had access to anymore. Even though she will never receive an answer, sending those made her feel as if she really talked to someone. Something a piece of paper or the notes app on her phone couldn’t ever do for her. Unlike when she opened up to Atsumu, she felt heard and listened to.

He kept pacing around the room, muttering curse after curse through gritted teeth. She didn’t know if they were directed at her mother, her, or himself. He was ticked off and frustrated about the fact that this had been going on for years at her home, without him knowing anything about it, though they only recently started growing closer. So when could she have told him about it? Not only that, but she used to hate him too.

Many people her age actually preferred being friends with Osamu, rather than him. They were alike, but the grey-haired brother was rather laid back and kind of calm, more bearable to have a conversation with. But the blonde kept pestering her, walking her to class, eating lunch together and joining her on the swings by the playground at late hours. She eventually came to the realisation that he was only half as bad as originally thought, and that she actually kind of liked him.

Yet moments like these, where she opened up and made herself vulnerable in front of him, caused her to second guess her choice of friend. There were no hands holding hers, and no softly spoken call of her name to sooth her spiraling thoughts. Nor did they ever truly talk about the things she so slowly and carefully put together in words. He couldn’t comfort her the way she needed, and to a certain degree it seemed like he never truly cared, always swiftly moving to a different topic.

“I was doing okay, I was content. But you made my life sound so much worse than it actually was.” she said, her tone tight, edged with frustration and a hint of wounded disbelief. “I had you and your support, no one else needed to know what was really going on, there was only one year of school left anyway.”

Somehow, she noticed, their roles were reversed now. He grew up and learned to manage and express his emotions better. He was successful in his job and his passion. Everything she prayed to god to was ignored and fell into his lap instead.

It filled her with hate and bitter jealousy.

They both came from somewhat similar backgrounds. A deadbeat father, a single mother, and issues with making friends. She was an only child, he was a twin. She expected his mother to be exhausted, overwhelmed, and stressed, unable to control her emotions or lash out at them sometimes. It’s what her mother was like already, though she only had to feed one extra mouthful, and not two. Instead, she was met with nothing but love and support in the four walls of his home. Something incredibly foreign to her.

Now, she directed her frustration and anger at people close to her who deserved it the least. Her emotional control kept slacking off with every passing day. She’s been fired from previous jobs often, goes out drinking instead of attending her classes, and her relationship turned from something that gave her joy and a will to push through, to this never-leaving sense of guilt and exhaustion.

“I had plans, Atsumu. I knew how to get out, I knew how to help myself. But you robbed me of every opportunity and broke your stupid fucking promise.”

Everything he had dreamed of was just one breath away, while she’d been drowning for years.

They’re two sides of a coin.

He woke up early with a smile, feeling refreshed and energized. She hadn’t moved an inch the moment she opened her eyes, even though she’d been meaning to get up for the past hour.

He kept in touch with his mother and called her every Sunday. She hadn't heard a word from hers since she moved to Osaka.

He doesn't know who his father is and doesn’t plan on knowing. She was forced to find out about hers.

He was a role model for many children. She never understood the concept.

The blonde stepped back from the redwood counter, hands buried in his pants as he shook his head slowly. “You would have lost yourself.”

“And I’m not lost right now?”

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

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Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir."

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit."

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair.

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-"

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?"

"What, now you care?"

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs.

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?"

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like-

"Watch out!"

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him.

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph.

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-"

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time."

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way.

For a second, nobody says anything.

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful."

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!"

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …"

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide.

"I, erm … Dustin."

"I'll stay here with Dustin."

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick.

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids."

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light.

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though."

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee.

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs.

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-"

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-"

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon."

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly.

Dustin sighs and stands.

"Coming, Hop."

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-"

And then it clicks.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says.

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise."

The door clicks shut.

The car glides away.

Eddie buries his face in his palms.

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit."

Eddie groans.

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie ficlet #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles #the rock star and the royal

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alinawritess · 7 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 ❀

❀ pairing. Vinnie Hacker x fem!reader x Matt Sturniolo

❀ synopsis. Four years ago, Vinnie and you, were once deeply in love, but had to part ways as both your skyrocketing careers in Hollywood and LA strained your long-distance relationship. The breakup was heartbreaking, leaving Vinnie with unresolved feelings. Now, at a glamorous Hollywood party, he unexpectedly encounters you, his former flame, who is now with the charismatic YouTube star Matt Sturniolo. As old emotions resurface, their polite yet charged interaction hints at unresolved tension and nostalgia.

❀ word count. 3.2k

❀ warning(s). Heartbreak┆︎ Emotional Distress ┆︎ Long-Distance Relationship Challenges ┆︎ Regret┆︎ Unresolved Feelings ┆︎ Nostalgia┆︎ Emotional Vulnerability┆︎ No Use of Y/N.

❀ authors note. Was I high writing this? very much so! (who knew what 4 Advil pills can do to a girl) ┆︎ If there are any spelling mistakes- blame Grammarly, girly was supposed to fix them!

Four Years Ago

Vinnie and you had been together for two wonderful years, just starting out in the influencer industry. Nobody really knew you two were dating; it was something private, a decision both of you had made. People and fans knew you were both seeing someone, but they just didn't know who. Your relationship felt like a perfect fit, filled with love and understanding.

Today, as you come through the apartment doors, exhaustion is written all over your face after a long day of practicing your lines for your upcoming movie. The filming is in Hollywood, and you haven't figured out how to tell your beloved partner that maybe you should take a break while you're filming. After all, he had his days where he seemed busy too. To say that your relationship was perfect would be a lie; recently, both of you had been busy with your hectic schedules, barely having time for one another.

As you walk through the door of your shared apartment, Vinnie looks up upon hearing it open.

"Hi, love," he greets you with a smile.

"Hi, Mr. Hacker," you say, playfully using a new nickname.

Vinnie chuckles. "That's a new nickname. Not really your style to be calling me by nicknames," he adds.

He walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around your sides, but you pull back slightly. "Do you hate it?" you tease lightly.

"I never said that," he says, planting a kiss on your forehead. "So, what's on your mind today, my love?" he asks, seeing your hands fidget and sensing your distracted thoughts. He truly knew how to read you like an open book, understanding your every emotion.

"We need to talk," you say, slipping from his embrace. Vinnie's teasing expression fades into worry and concern.

"A talk? Is something wrong, love?" he asks.

"I feel like we're not on the same page in life as we used to be," you say, your voice tinged with concern.

Vinnie's expression becomes gentler. He lifts his hand to gently caress your face. "Oh, love... What makes you think that?"

"You've been pretty distant with band things and photoshoots," you explain, "and I guess we only see each other once or twice a week. None of us have even brought it up; it's like we don't care that our schedules mess our relationship up and we don't even try to fix it or talk about it. Every time we do see each other, we just act like we're some perfect couple, like nothing's tearing us apart beneath the surface."

Vinnie takes a deep breath and nods, understanding what you mean. "You're right... I've been distracted with band stuff and photoshoots. I never meant to make you feel like I was neglecting you. I'm so sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his voice quiet and gentle.

"It's fine," you reassure him. "I'm not saying stop chasing your dreams. Go for it. But what if we took a break?"

"A break? You mean from the relationship?" Vinnie's voice is barely a whisper, his expression one of heartbreak.

"Yeah..." you hesitate. "You know, maybe try things, chase our dreams."

Vinnie stands frozen, his wide eyes looking at you with disbelief. He clearly wasn't prepared for this conversation.

"You... want us to break up?" he asks, his voice cracking.

"Kinda," you admit. "Maybe you'll finally be the model or singer you want to be. Maybe your band will finally hit the top 100 charts, maybe even number one. And maybe, just maybe, I can be on TV."

Vinnie's expression falls even more, and his eyes plead with you. "But what about us? What about what we have? We're good together, aren't we?"

"We are, but the truth is we've been so distant from each other. We barely have enough time for this relationship," you explain. "I'm going to be in Hollywood for a while for my upcoming movie, and you're going to be in LA. Is it truly going to work?"

Vinnie's jaw clenches tightly in disappointment, tears welling up in his eyes. "But... I love you," he whispers quietly, almost like he wanted you to hear him but not at all at the same time.

"I thought... you loved me like I loved you," he continues, and now tears roll down his face. "But I guess I was wrong... I'm sorry I wasn't enough for you..."

"Vinnie, it's not like that, you know it," you say softly, trying to comfort him.

"I really don't," he chokes out, shaking his head. "How can you just throw away everything we had? What's wrong with me that you don't love me anymore?" He lifts his palms to his face and scrubs away his tears, though they keep spilling out in endless waterfalls.

"I never said I don't love you," you clarify, "I just don't think I can do long distance."

"So... this means I'll never get to hold you again? Or touch you? Or kiss you? Or hear your laughter and jokes that make my day?" Vinnie's voice cracks as he struggles to hold back his tears.

"I don't know, Vinnie," you admit, tears welling up in your own eyes, "I don't know what the future holds. I know because of this movie role, I'm going to be away for a long time."

Vinnie nods slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. "Yeah... long distance is tough. I'm just scared of what happens if you... you know... find someone new while you're away?"

"If I come back and we both have the same feelings for one another, maybe we could be... maybe," you suggest tentatively.

He nods ever so slightly again. "I guess this is it then," he whispers, his voice cracking as he struggles to speak. "But... can we at least have one final kiss? To cherish this moment and keep it forever?"

"How about a hug? A kiss would feel too intimate, don't you think?" you suggest.

"Yeah... a hug," he chokes out. Vinnie steps forward and wraps his arms around you in a firm embrace. He buries his face in your hair, his whole body trembling as he fights away tears.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, tears streaming down your face.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry I wasn't what you needed," he whispers, his voice cracking once more. "I loved you so much, and I promise I always will. I hope you find everything you're looking for."

"I hope you do too," you whisper back.

He holds you tightly for a few more moments, the embrace feeling like a bittersweet mixture of love and pain.

Eventually, he releases you, his expression a mix of sadness and acceptance. "Goodbye, my love..."

"Bye, Vin," you say softly.

Vinnie slowly walks towards the door and opens it, pausing for a moment to look back at you one final time. His tear-filled eyes meet yours for a few seconds before he steps out the door, disappearing into the unknown.

Present Day

Four years had passed since you and Vinnie had gone your separate ways, but the memories of your time together still lingered like ghosts from the past. You found yourself at a lavish Hollywood party, surrounded by the elite and celebrities, trying to navigate through the crowd with Matt Sturniolo, your new boyfriend. Matt was introducing you to various people, his hand possessively on your back as you made your way through the crowd.

Amidst the glamorous chaos, you spotted a familiar face—the one you thought you'd never see again. Vinnie stood out among the Hollywood elite, his charismatic presence and undeniable good looks drawing attention wherever he went. He was surrounded by people, laughing at his jokes and eagerly listening to his stories. It was clear he was thriving in the industry.

As if sensing your gaze, Vinnie glanced up and briefly met your eyes. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as memories flooded your mind. But all too quickly, he tore his gaze away and continued chatting with his entourage, as if nothing had happened.

Matt brought you in front of Vinnie, and you had to muster all your strength to act as if this was your first time meeting. Your eyes locked onto Vinnie's, and you could see a flicker of recognition in his gaze, but he played along.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said smoothly, offering a polite smile and extending his hand for a handshake.

You politely declined Vinnie's handshake, keeping your hand firmly clasped with Matt's as he introduced you as his girlfriend. Vinnie glanced at your intertwined hands, a subtle flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"Ah, got yourself a nice catch, Matt," Vinnie joked, his voice casual but his eyes betraying a hint of envy. He gave Matt's hand a firm shake before turning his attention to you. "Congratulations to you both."

As the conversation continued, Vinnie tried his best to maintain his composure, engaging in small talk with you both. But beneath the surface, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing and regret. He had lost you, and now, seeing you happy with someone else hurt more than he had anticipated.

Matt turned to Vinnie and asked, "So, have you found yourself a special someone yet, Vinnie?"

Vinnie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor. "Oh, you know me, Matt, always the bachelor. Haven't found the right person to settle down with yet."

"Ever did?" Matt asked.

"Well, there was one person," Vinnie admitted, his voice quieter, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "We had something special, but life took us down different paths. Sometimes, I wonder if what we had could've been something more."

"What happened?" Matt asked, as you looked away, clenching your hand tighter around Matt's.

"We both had dreams and aspirations," Vinnie explained, his expression tinged with a hint of sadness. "I was focused on my music career, and she wanted to pursue her dreams in Hollywood. We tried to make it work, but the distance and our conflicting schedules made it challenging. In the end, we had to make a choice to follow our own paths."

"So, did you find what you were searching for, and did you ever see her again?" Matt asked.

"After her, I've had a few relationships here and there, but none quite like ours," Vinnie mused. "As for her, our paths have crossed at a few parties or events over the years, but we've kept our distance. Maybe one day, fate will bring us back together."

"It was nice chatting with you both," Vinnie said, his tone laced with a hint of sorrow mixed with acceptance. "Enjoy the party."

Matt nodded in agreement, expressing his parting greetings as well, and gently led you away to find a quieter spot for that much-needed breather. As you walked away, Vinnie found himself lost in his thoughts, unable to shake off the bittersweet memories of what once was. He took a deep breath and pushed the past aside, plastering a smile on his face as he turned back to the party, trying to revel in the present instead.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur for Vinnie, his mind preoccupied with the unexpected encounter. Seeing you with another man had stirred up a myriad of emotions within him, forcing him to confront the lingering feelings he still harbored deep down. He tried to engage in conversations and interactions, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one who once loved him. As the party drew to a close, Vinnie felt a sense of relief mixed with a bittersweet tinge. He knew that seeing you tonight had only served to reopen old wounds. As he made his way out of the venue, he couldn't help but wonder if fate would ever bring the two of you together again.

Sitting on the steps in your black dress, you wondered what was taking Matt so long. He had told you to meet him outside, but he still hadn't appeared. You contemplated whether you should go back into the party and search for him, even though everyone appeared happy in front of you, things were going wrong inside their relationship. As you looked up from the steps, there he was, looking down at you—an old love.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice tinged with both warmth and hesitation. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," you replied, a hint of bitterness in your voice. "It's not like my boyfriend is anywhere, and it's not like the spot's reserved."

Vinnie let out a small chuckle at your remark, sensing the hint of bitterness in your words. He took a seat beside you on the steps, respectfully leaving a little space between you two as he gazed out at the cityscape before you.

"It's nice out here," he commented softly, before adding, "Not much of a party person, are you?"

"Never was, even with you," you replied, a wistful tone in your voice. "But neither were you."

Vinnie smiled softly, the corner of his lip curving up in a bittersweet smile. "You're right, I never was much of a party person," he admitted, his gaze distant as he reminisced about the past. "I guess some things never change. Neither of us was meant for the Hollywood spotlight."

"I don't know about you, but I look great on the big screen," you said, trying to inject some lightness into the conversation.

Vinnie chuckled and nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride and admiration. "No doubt about it," he agreed. "You shine bright like a star on the big screen. It suits you. I always knew you were destined for greatness."

"Even if it caused our relationship to end," you said quietly, your voice tinged with regret.

Vinnie's expression turned solemn as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, the industry can be demanding," he admitted. "It took a toll on our relationship, on both of us. We had different dreams, different paths. Sometimes, I wonder what would have been if we had chosen differently."

"Like normal people with ordinary jobs," you added, a wistful tone in your voice.

Vinnie let out a deep sigh and nodded. "Sometimes I miss those simpler days," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Just the two of us, living life without the fame and the busy schedules. It was simpler, I guess. But who knows, maybe things happen for a reason."

"Maybe," you said softly, not entirely convinced. "Though I'm surprised there's no lovely woman by your side tonight."

Vinnie chuckled, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh, I could have any woman I wanted," he joked, feigning confidence. "But maybe I'm just waiting for the right one to come along. Someone who appreciates the real me, not just the celebrity persona."

"You mean the anime nerd behind all that mystery," you teased, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Vinnie's laughter filled the air, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You always knew me too well, didn't you?" he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "Yeah, the big secret no one knows is that I'm just a regular anime nerd underneath the glitz and glamor."

"Wouldn't that be what we would have been doing right now, four years ago? Fighting over either Attack on Titan or Sailor Moon?" you mused.

Vinnie grinned wider, his eyes lighting up as the nostalgia washed over him. "Yeah, those endless debates over which anime is the best," he mused. "You and your love for Sailor Moon, and me passionately defending Attack on Titan. It was always a tie between us, wasn't it?"

"I don’t know, feel like I won most of those rounds," you said with a playful challenge.

Vinnie chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. "Maybe you won a few, but I still hold my ground that Attack on Titan is the superior anime," he quipped, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "I mean, come on, the story, the characters, the action – it's just unbeatable!"

"Come on, like you didn't drool over Captain Levi every time he was on the screen," Vinnie teased.

"Levi Ackerman, huh? Can't blame me there," you admitted, a playful shrug. "He's a hot badass, for sure. But let's be real, even he couldn't steal me away from you."

The light-hearted mood shifted suddenly as Matt's voice interjected, "Steal who from who?" cutting through the conversation like a gust of cold wind. Vinnie turned to face Matt, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"Baby, what took you so long?" you asked Matt, kissing him on the cheek as he pulled you closer to him.

Vinnie watched as you kissed Matt, a whirlwind of emotions stirring within him. He forced a strained smile, his eyes betraying a hint of jealousy and longing hidden beneath the surface.

"So, what were you talking about?" Matt asked.

"Just catching up with Vinnie. After all, we did work on that one music piece," you interjected.

"Yeah, just catching up on the old times," Vinnie managed to say, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. He cleared his throat, attempting to divert the conversation away from the awkward tension. "So, how's the industry treating you, Matt? Any exciting projects coming up?"

Matt talked about his YouTube channel and the one he shared with his triplet brothers, Nick and Chris, who appeared behind him. Chris gave you a pat on the shoulder, commenting on how lit the party was, joking that you'd be his sister-in-law soon if you kept up your relationship with his brother.

Vinnie nodded intently, listening to Matt's excitement about his growing success on YouTube. He managed a polite, encouraging smile despite the gnawing feeling of jealousy brewing within him. As Matt's brothers appeared behind him, their presence created an even more convoluted atmosphere, with Chris's comment about you being his future sister-in-law making things even more awkward.

Matt turned his head to you and Chris as he heard his comment and whispered, "Maybe one day, my love," kissing your cheek. But all you could think of at that moment was Vinnie as he stared at you. Matt's comment brought back memories for both of you, as "my love" was Vinnie's favorite nickname for you.

You remembered the first time he called you that name, back in high school. The wind was blowing hard, and the flowers had bloomed even though it was the first day of spring. You were supposed to meet at the botanical gardens for your first official date. As you tried to find where he was, a soft, comforting voice said, "Hi," tapping your shoulder and causing you to turn around. Before any word could come out of your mouth, he picked a leaf that had gotten stuck in your hair and spoke gently, "I think something got stuck in your hair, love." That was the first time anyone had called you that, and at that time, you really believed he would be the only one calling you it. Snapping out of your thoughts, you smiled softly at Matt to reassure him. Vinnie interrupted the moment, reminding Matt they were in the middle of a conversation.

"That's great to hear, man. I hope your channel keeps growing. You've got a long road ahead of you," Vinnie responded, his voice neutral despite the emotional turmoil roiling inside him. He tried to focus on the conversation, asking questions and engaging in small talk, but his thoughts kept circling back to you, the one who once loved him. As the conversation continued, Vinnie began to feel increasingly out of place, his presence becoming more of a hindrance than anything.

His mind raced, weighing the options for escape. Glancing around, he subtly scanned for a way out. Seeing an opportunity, Vinnie excused himself abruptly, offering a hasty excuse about finding the restroom or chatting with his manager—anything to leave this awkwardly tense situation.

"Take care Vin," you say as Vinnie passes by you once again.

"Thanks, you too," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of unresolved emotion as he walked away, leaving you to grapple with the memories and emotions that had resurfaced.

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baronessvonglitter · 3 months ago

Text

The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dave york #dave york fic #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #halloween writing challenge #halloween fic #ghost fic

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 10 months ago

Note

If your still doing requests I wanted to know if you could do another one with Spencer Reid and a child reader? Where he adopts a little boy (who’s about 5) because the little boy reminds him of himself. Only Rossi and Hotch know he has a kid then one day he brings his kid to work because he really wanted to spend time with his dad and uncle Dave and uncle Aaron. The team sees Hotch smile when he picks up Spencer’s kid and the team is shocked that one Spencer has a kid and two Hotch is smiling.

Spencer Reid X Autistic Son reader

Request: If your still doing requests I wanted to know if you could do another one with Spencer Reid and a child reader? Where he adopts a little boy (who’s about 5) because the little boy reminds him of himself. Only Rossi and Hotch know he has a kid then one day he brings his kid to work because he really wanted to spend time with his dad and uncle Dave and uncle Aaron. The team sees Hotch smile when he picks up Spencer’s kid and the team is shocked that one Spencer has a kid and two Hotch is smiling.

Sorry its been so long since I updated haven't been into Criminal minds as much.

Third person pov...

5 year old Y/N Reid was playing with his toys in his room, Y/N had lost his parents to a serial killer when he was 3 years old, during the case Spencer had grown close with the boy who was alone.

Spencer had noticed how similar the young boy was to him, he noticed how he lined his toys up, how he doesn't like eye contact, how he rambled on about his favourite types of flowers, he hated touch (apart from Spencer) how he fidgets alot he rocks on his feet, how the only every time he spoke was about his special interests.

The boy was Autistic and knowone understood him apart from Spencer, he was the only on the boy would talk and answer his questions.

When the cased ended the boy threw a tantrum when he realised Spencer would be leaving him, he felt safe with the man who help catch his parents killer.

After seeing how desperately the boy wanted to stay with him Spencer told Hotch and Rossi he was going to adopt the boy, Y/N couldn't go into Foster care they would understand his needs, but Spencer did.

Spencer became Y/Ns Daddy, the 5 year old of course remembered his parents and Spencer talked about them to the boy. As Y/N plays with his toys he looks at the written schedule made by his Daddy.

He looked at the one after breakfast, he then stood up and ran for his door. "Daddy!" He yells runs towards his Dad's room, hearing the footsteps Spencer come out of his room.

Picking the boy up into his arms Spencer looks at the boy for any injuries, after checking he was okay he asked the boy what was wrong, the boy fidgets with Spencers buttons as he answered.

"Can I come to work with you?" He questions the man, Spencer thinks for a moment. This would be a good time to introduce Y/N to his team. Smiling at the boy he nods his head. "Sure Sweetheart we can do that" Y/Ns face lit up in excitement.

"Yay! Thank you daddy!" He kisses Spencers cheek and wiggles to be let down, laughing Spencer set the wriggling boy down watching as he ran off to his room.

In his bedroom Little Y/N packed his favourite books on flowers, a couple toys, his water bottle, his comfort snack, his ear defenders and finally a comfort toy. His stuffed flower (jellycat actually have one it's so cute)

Packed and ready to go Y/N left his room and ran to the living room where his daddy was getting ready for work, Spencer was dressed and was packing his bag for work.

Y/N jumped onto the couch, bouncing up and down all excited to go to hid daddy's work. The little boy had already met Hotch and Rossi, they are like his Uncle's he calls them Uncle Dave and Uncle Aaron.

"Already to go?" Spencer asks his son who was eagerly bouncing on the couch. Y/N grins at the man as he jumps of the sofa and grabs his hand, Spencer laughs as he let's his five year old drag him to the door.

Putting their shoes on the father and son leave thr apartment, Spencer holds Y/N hand as they make their way to the FBI headquarters.

As they arrived, the little H/C haired boy was filled with awe and wonder. He had never been in such a big building before, and seeing all the agents walking around in their suits made him feel like he was part of something important.

"Come on Daddy!" He giggled running to the building as he did he dropped his Dad's hand, Spencer anxiously began running after the little boy.

He caught up to the boy easily, trying tk catch his breath he held Y/Ns hands and brought him close, Spencer the knelt down infront of the boy.

His eyes level with Y/Ns wondering ones he knows the boy is listening though he wasn't looking at him. "Now Y/N, you can't run while inside okay" he tells the boy.

Y/N nods his head, hugging his stuffed flower tight. "Stick close to me okay" he tells the boy, this time Y/N looks at him and smiles. "Okay Daddy" she smiles making Spencer heart soften at his son.

"Alright let's go" he says the two start walking towards the building this time Y/N holding Spencers hand tightly so he won't get lost.

As they walked into the BAU, Spencer could feel the stares of his colleagues as they noticed the little boy by his side as they make their way towards the elevators.

When they arrive at the bullpen more looks sent their way, Spencer and Y/N ignore them and make their way to the team.

As they enter the bullpen the Team are shocked to see their boy genius with a 5 year old boy. But despite their shocked expressions, Hotch's smile was the one that caught Spencer's attention.

Seeing his boss, who was known for his stern demeanor, smile so warmly at his son, made Spencer's heart swell with pride.

Y/N hid behind his dad, when he saw everyone looking at him, "Who's this?" JJ asked, smiling at the little boy attempting to hide behind Spencer.

Laughing at his son Spencer nudged the boy with his knee though it didnt dislodge the tiny hand gripping his trouser leg.

"This is my son, Y/N. Y/N meet the team" Spencer introduced, with a smile on his face. Y/N peaked out from his Dad's legs and waves at them before hiding again.

He was never great at socialising and never liked doing it, unless he had too.

The team's reaction was a mix of shock and joy. They couldn't believe that Spencer had a son, but they were happy to see him so Father like, JJ, Penelope and Emily were right he's make a great Dad.

As the team crowded around Spencer, Derek patting his back while he got hugs of the girls, Y/N managed to sneak away from them.

With his space being invaded the 5 year old reluctantly let go of his safety line, he ran of towards his Uncle Hotch, his protection against people and touching.

Said man already saw the boy coming he lent doen and picked him up making the boy giggle.

"Hello N/N" he says to the boy.

Giggling still Y/N wrapped his arms round the man's neck and gave him a hug. "Hi Uncle" he grinned, Hotch smiled at the boy a smile reserved for his own son.

Someone gasps making Hotch look away, it was Penelope. The colourful woman was pointing at the man holding the boy her mouth open in shock.

"Hotch man don't tell me you knew about him already" Exclaimed Derek, Hotch just shrugged and talking quietly to Y/N.

Spencer smiles at his boy, glad he had met the rest of his team finally.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot so sorry for the late update, beeb obsessed with Law and Order currently, getting back into CM though.

As usual sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1341

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #father son fluff #fluff #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x son reader #x autistic child reader #uncle nephew fluff #uncle aaron #aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher x child reader

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caligatinsole · 11 months ago

Text

Old folks here might remember back in July of last year I was hoping the BRB wouldn't initially be aggressive towards P. Oh! What a fool I was, so ignorant of the soulslike world!

Anyway, I'm keeping this idea for my headcanon. Dump ahead.

The Black Rabbits don't seem to be aggressive towards the puppet the first time they meet and they decide to work together for equal gain. However, one thing leads to another and P is framed guilty of something (murder of a brother? Did he really do it? Was he there at the wrong time? Who knows). P escapes, unsuccessful to reason with them, so now he's hunted down like a rabbit and must be careful to not cross the enemies path. In the end, he'll discover all of them were killed, likely by the alchemists themselves, stalkers or by Simon.

P.S. I love (and hate <3) this game but I fall behind with its lore. I'm glad I was able to find the BRB info written on the internet and I'm surprised I didn't twist their characters/story too much. However, my own headcanon does change the game-story a bit (for example, I like to think P spends quite some time with the siblings and his main quests also differ from the original, both in lengths and goal). However, I haven't delved too deep into it yet. Still a huge wip I'm not sure will be completed.

#lies of p #lies of p fanart #peste #black rabbit brotherhood #lore drop

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graciegoeskrazy · 7 months ago

Text

if i believe u

matty healy + daughter!r (ft. gabbriette, charli, and george!)

warnings: angsty asf but what did u except, matty says he regresas being a dad, step moms(???), queen gabbriette, shitty matty, lying, yelling, a curse word or two, just general family angst, longest one if written in awhile, george n charli

a/n: first matty daughter r in awhile but 5 SEPERATE PEOPLE ASKED FOR THIS so i had to do it obvi. btw im not hating on gab she’s actually the hero of this story i will not tolerate gabbriette slander only matty slander eheheh. ty to my lovely anons who requested it makes me happy🤭

r is about 13 ish

Your dad said him and Gabby were going out to dinner while you were at your end of the year dance. It was an event for middle schoolers, nothing crazy, but they figured they’d take advantage of a couple hours to themselves by having a romantic dinner out. He said they’d be home well before you ended your night, and to just text when you got home.

“I’m home!”

You were met with no answer. You didn’t think much about it and went to your room, starting to take off your jewelry from the night.

“Hey, dancing queen.” He said, appearing in the doorway.

You smiled at his comment, looking back at him. “How was dinner?” You asked.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Good…really really good.”

You thought his response was interesting, but didn’t look to much into it, just taking off your heels from the evening.

“Where’s Gabby?” You asked.

“Bedroom. Thought i’d talk to you in private for a second.”

You turned back suddenly. “About what?” He chuckled when your face turned to worry so quickly.

“Nothing bad. Don’t worry. No one is dead.”

You smiled back, crossing your arms. “Then what is it?”

He looked down at his hands, specifically one finger.

He rarely wore new rings, always sticking to the same ones. You quickly noticed he was grazing over a new one.

One that laid on a certain finger.

You already knew your answer, but you asked anyway, “What’s that?”

He showed a coy smile, while examining the ring on his own finger. “An engagement ring.” He said, smiling.

A part of himself couldn’t believe it. You definitely couldn’t believe it either.

“You’re engaged?” You asked, voice quiet.

“Yeah,” He said, with a faded breath. “Yeah honey, I am.”

Your voice became quiet. “To Gabby?”

“Yeah.” His smile wouldn’t go away. He hasn't smiled like that in so long. A part of you wanted to take a picture of it. Another part of you wanted to wipe it off his face.

“Wow.” was all you could say at the moment.

You spoke after a second of silence. “Are you sure about this dad?”

“About what? Marrying the love of my life?”

He started to get defensive right away. “I mean, Dad, I don’t know her.” You let out a short laugh and smile, as if that should’ve been obvious. “Yeah, she’s been nothing but nice but, you haven't been dating for even a year? And now what? She’s gonna move in with us?”

You saw his face turn. “No, we’re moving in with her.” He said quickly.

You couldn’t believe it. And the fact that he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world made it harder. “Wh-what about London?”

He started to look anywhere but at you. “We’re gonna move to the states, baby.”

He can’t be serious.

You blinked at him, unsure if this was a dream. “So…I get zero say in this?”

He scoffed. “God forbid I try and give you some stability in life- a family.”

Your blood started to boil. “She’s not even old enough to be my mother.”

“Y/n Healy!”

“And what stability? My life has been a faltering mess since you’ve opened your mouth!” Your voice was now at ten, his not far behind.

“Do not talk to me like that young lady.” He stood straighter, in full authoritative dad mode.

“Don’t talk like what? Don’t tell the truth?” His eyebrow quirked. “You know full well the reason people dropped me, or the reason I had to switch friend groups is because of the stupid shit you’ve said.” He sighed, he knew you were right about that one. “Dad, it’s not that you’re getting married, it’s the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me!”

“I thought you would be happy! This is good news!”

“What about this conversation we’re having screams ‘happiness’?” You said while gesturing between the two of you.

“Oh, so you hate Gabby?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t hate Gabby- I never said I did!”

“Oh so, you just don’t want me to marry her. You don’t want me to be happy.” He started to get protective, voice full of venom.

“I never said that ethier!” You were growing tired.

“Then what is it?”

You felt that it was painfully obvious, but clearly not. “Dad, my whole life is here. My school, my only friends, my home, and you’re just gonna take that away from me in an instant? Without any warning?” He started getting angry. You kept going.

“You didn’t even think about asking me!”

“I wouldn’t have to think about asking if you weren’t here!”

And there it was. The truth. The thought you’ve been dreading to hear since the moment you found out your existence wasn’t exactly planned. The straw that broke the camels back. The words you knew were always true, but never thought you’d actually hear him say.

Your world went blurry after that. Gabbriette stormed in, yelling “Matty!”, and shielding you from your father and any other personal or verbal attacks he might make, but the truth was that he recognized his mistake right after he said it.

He promised himself, right after you were born, he would never make you feel like a mistake. A burden. He wouldn’t be one of those dads. But here he was, frozen. Standing in front of his fiancé while she hold his baby girl, sobbing, because of his words. Because he made her feel that way.

You cried into her. She held you close. Your father slowly became aware of his mistakes and what he had done. Gabbriette looked at him, still holding on tight to you. “Get out.”

He swallowed. “I didn’t mean-“

“Get out Matthew.” She said sharply.

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

It felt like the weight of the world came crashing down on your shoulders. The truth, finally free, so heavy that you couldn’t keep up anymore, you came falling down with it.

Gabby knew he didn’t entirely mean it. But, her focus was on the task at hand. And that was getting you back to feeling safe. You sobbed and sobbed into her, the cries getting more violent over time. “It’s alright, i’ve got you.” She brought you to the bed, soothing you and kissing your head gently. “I’m right here.”

—————

Matty woke up the next morning with a raging headache. He turned to find his fiancé’s side of the bed empty and cold. He sighed.

The knocks wouldn’t stop. He begrudgingly leapt out of bed and to the front door. When he opened the door he was met with Charli and George, standing side by side. Both still in lounge clothes but Charli wide awake, compared to George who looked half asleep.

“What did you do to your daughter now?” She asked, crossing her hands over her chest, voice full of power.

Matty tried rubbing his eyes awake, but it was no use. “What?” he asked, voice full of sleep.

Charli ignored him and flew past him through the house. “You think my kid was really capable of keeping her mouth shut? Baby?! Auntie Charli is here!!!”

George, still in his sleepy state, met his friend, closing the door behind him. “What did you do man?”

Matty sighed, putting his hands over his eyes to block out the peaks of sun coming in as he made his way to the living room. “I messed up.”

George rolled his eyes, “Well clearly because Charli wouldn’t wake me at 7am if it wasn’t important.”

Matty groaned and leaned back. “How did she even know?”

George shrugged, “Your girl must’ve texted ours.” Matty hummed. “She swore to y/n she wouldn’t tell us, but she was worried about what you said to her. Came crying to us this morning.”

George patted him on the shoulder and started to leave the room. “I’m making coffee. Go put pants on and then tell me what happened.”

—————

earlier that morningr - 4am

You only left your bed once after the fight and it was only to change out of your dress from the dance and into pjs Gabbriette gathered for you after much convincing that you’d be more comfortable.

She brushed your hair back and into a ponytail. When she tried to leave after you finally settled, you begged her in your sleepy state to stay.

So she did.

Come 4 am, you were wide awake. Unable to get your fathers words out of your mind. “Are you awake?” You said.

“Yeah.” She said.

It took you a second but she spoke. “I’m sorry, Gabby.”

She opens her eyes and turned to face you, grabbing your face softly with one hand in the process. “You have nothing to apologize for, y/n-”

You started crying at the gesture. “I don’t hate you! I swear I don’t! He’s lying-“

She shushed you. “I know you don’t, sweet girl. He’s just trying to get in your head after everything.”

You slowly nodded and she sighed. “You need to know that you did nothing wrong. Ever.”

Your cries turned to sniffles. “Yes I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I existed?”

She knew this is how you really felt, and it hurt her so much to realize that the person who was supposed to be the love of her life did this to his own daughter. He made you feel this way. Nothing or no one else. “Honey, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is. He said it!”

“Well what he said was wrong.” She said frim, yet caring. “No doubt about it.”

The sniffles slowly softened even more over time. After a minute or two in comfortable silence, you spoke. “I hope you still love him though.”

She laughed, not expecting your honest remark. “Unfortunately, I still do. With all my heart.” She didn’t miss the smile that danced on your lips. “Go back to sleep. I don’t need him clouding your thoughts when you’re trying to get your beauty rest.”

You closed your eyes, snuggling closer to her, hand quickly grazing over hers in the process. “Damn girl, that’s a big fucking rock.” You said.

She laughed and smiled.

—————

She explained everything to Chali when she woke them up the next morning. You hid in the bed, crying. You had thought so but she did confirm that she was eavesdropping the entire time. You didn’t mind though. She had your back and that was all that matters.

—————

Matty sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the framed picture he held in his hands. Your bright, innocent smile seemed to mock him, reminding him of the days when you would run into his arms after school, eager to share every detail of your day, no matter how mundane it was.

He thought about how you stood by him, through it all. It didn’t matter if it was family issues, band drama, or even his drug addiction. He loved the fact he didn’t have to pretend to be someone for you, not a rockstar, a perfect son or friend, just Dad, your Dad. And for a very very very long time, that was all you needed.

The house felt colder, quieter. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, and stood up.

It was time. Gabbriette had left for some errands earlier that morning, making a point to look your father dead in the eyes and telling him to ‘man up and do it.’ Truthfully, he couldn’t let another day pass without trying to bridge the gap between the two of you. With determined steps, he walked down the hallway to your room. He knocked gently on the door, the sound echoing louder than he anticipated in the silent house. “Baby? Can we talk?” he called, his voice wavering slightly. No response. He knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Baby girl, please. I just want to talk.”

Still nothing. He sighed, leaning his forehead against the door. “I’m coming in,” he said softly, turning the knob and pushing the door open.

You were sitting at your desk, your back to him, headphones on, absorbed in a sketchpad. Your long curly hair, nearly identical to the ones Matty used to embrace, cascaded down your back, slightly hiding your face from him. He took a step inside, the creak of the floorboard announcing his presence.

“Y/n?” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t turn around. He could see your shoulders tense, though, and he knew you heard him. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For everything.”

There was a flicker of movement; you paused your drawing but didn’t remove your headphones. Matty felt a pang of desperation.

“I know I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. And I know I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I was so caught up in my own problems that I didn’t see how it was affecting you. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

He watched as your hand gripped the pencil tighter. It was a small reaction, but it was something. He took another step closer, now standing just a few feet behind you.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I miss our talks, our laughs. I miss my daughter.”

Slowly, you reached up and removed your headphones, placing them carefully on the desk. You didn’t turn to face him, but your silence spoke volumes. Matty took it as an invitation to continue.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. Or even talk to me. I just… I just needed you to know how sorry I am.”

There was a long pause. Matty felt the weight of the silence pressing down on him, each second stretching into an eternity. He opened his mouth to say something else but then closed it, unsure of what more he could add.

Finally, you spoke, voice barely a whisper. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay.”

Your words, though quiet, felt like a punch to his gut. He nodded, though you couldn’t see him. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I know.”

“It’s not that simple, Dad,” Your voice broke slightly. “You hurt me. A lot.”

He felt tears welling up in his eyes. “I know I did. And I hate myself for it. But I love you, darling. More than anything in the world. You know that.”

You finally turned around, eyes red and filled with tears. You looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for something—truth, perhaps, or sincerity. Your dad held his breath, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever fragile connection you had in that moment.

“You said you regret having me,” you said, voice trembling. “That you wished I wasn’t here- How do you expect me to forgive that?”

His heart shattered at your words. He knelt down beside your chair, looking up at you. “Darling, I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was overwhelmed and stressed, and I lashed out in the worst possible way. I didn’t mean it. Not for a second.”

You looked up, blinking away the tears streaming down your face. “But you said it. You can’t just take it back.”

“I know,” he said, voice breaking. “I know I can’t. But please believe me when I say I didn’t mean it. I love you more than anything in this world. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Matty felt desperation clawing at him. “I’ve been a terrible father, y/n. I let my own problems cloud my judgment. But I want to change. I need to change. For you. For us. That’s why maybe this whole engagement thing isn’t a bad idea?”

You sniffled again, giving a serious look, “I don’t hate Gabby.”

He sighed, “I know you don’t-“

“You really hurt me, Dad.” Your eyes were filled with pain and tears.

He nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. Just… please give me a chance.”

You looked down at your work, fingers tracing the lines you’d drawn. Matty watched you, his heart aching for a sign of hope.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you said softly. “Not yet.”

Matty nodded, his heart heavy. “I understand,” he said gently. “I’m not asking you to. I just want you to know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked at him, eyes searching his face. “Do you really mean it?” you asked, voice small. “That you’re sorry?”

Matty met your gaze, his eyes filled with tears, and smiled. “With all my heart,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry, my love.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “Okay,” you whispered. “We’ll see.”

Matty smiled through his tears, a small, hopeful smile. It was a start, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. And for now, that was enough.

#I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE #THX ANONSSSSSSS #the 1975 #x daughter!reader #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x daughter!reader #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #george daniel

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