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sammylkcho · 3 months ago

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I read the request where the reader is Sebastian spouse hear me out though what if the reader said oh you sound like my husband but they don't recognize him since he's a fish and they show off the ring hear me out

Oh god, this was requested almost two weeks ago… I’m SO SORRY for the wait dear anom!

I gotta say, I wrote this and I’m not thrilled with the final result,sorry if it sucks..

Warnings/Notes: small angst, mentions of hallucinations but nothing real, signs of a growing anxiety attack, anxiety overwhelming the poor reader

Original request

"The name’s Sebastian, remember?" it reminded you of its name, sensing a hidden plea in its tone.

"… Yes, Sebastian." You repeated its name, finding it strange to utter the name of your deceased husband. It had been a long time since you said his name, and it felt good to say it; it brought you a kind of comfort for a few seconds.

You rubbed the back of your neck for a moment, pressing your lips into a thin line as the growing anxiety and discomfort began to take hold.

You felt the bluish gaze of the "creature" (you hated calling it that, but you didn’t know exactly how to categorize it) piercing into your soul, as if it were searching for something, analyzing every piece to ensure not a single detail was missed. It was strange, both having it in front of you and being alone together.

When had your companions left? You didn’t know, and it probably wasn’t worth knowing; they had likely abandoned you since you were holding them back and had been a burden to them.

Those thoughts pulled you away from reality, making you completely forget Sebastian's presence and how intimidating he was with his great height.

He could tell that you were no longer grounded, having always known the times when your thoughts swallowed you alive due to your anxiety and the “what-ifs.” It was one of the first things he learned about you as he got to know you.

Both of you had questions about each other. Especially him, who knew it was you despite how disheveled and tired you looked, but in your case, you still didn’t know that the person in front of you was the same one you’d considered dead for the past 12 years.

How had you ended up here? Had you been blamed for a crime that wasn’t yours? Just as they had likely done to him?

Those thoughts made Sebastian’s blood boil. He felt so powerless for not having been able to do anything to prevent you from coming to a place like this, for having to suffer the consequences of someone else. So many things he regretted, even though only a few minutes had passed since your presence appeared before him like an angel.

There were so many things yet so little he could do.

His goal now would be to try to make you realize that it was him and not just a simple coincidence in appearance and voice.

He would make you realize and know that it was him; Sebastian Solace, your husband.

He clicked his tongue loudly to catch your attention (which he succeeded in doing with the sudden noise) and thus fulfill the objective he had in mind.

"Want to take a look? Got some things you might find useful on your endeavor." He asked you with a tone that would be too unusual for any expendable that had passed through his shop. That sarcastic, humorous, and hateful tone was always present in him, but with you, there was a hint of sweetness.

"Eh.. Sure." You responded, somewhat bewildered. Your feet carried you automatically to his tail once more, looking among the few items left on the straps he had tied along his tail.

You felt his gaze on you once again; this time, you didn’t try to find a reason or what he was trying to see or accomplish by looking at you. The sensation was uncomfortable yet comforting. Strange.

"Anything that catches your eye?" he asked you again, offering a smile filled with sharp teeth like those of a shark. A chill ran down your body from head to toe, as the more you looked, the sharper they seemed.

"You sound like my husband." You said abruptly, without having processed the words that had already slipped past your tongue.

You realized what you had said just before a wave of shame and melancholy completely invaded your body. You hadn’t wanted to say that, much less mention the fact that you had referred to your deceased husband. DEAD.

How was it possible that you saw your husband reflected in that person (fish)? It was utterly embarrassing, surely, for having made a comparison with someone he didn’t even know, he would bring you to a certain death or something even worse-

"What a coincidence, babe." He interrupted your line of thought, pulling your attention back to him.

Sebastian only called you that way when he was joking with you.

Your eyes moved to the ring that seemed to shine faintly in the soft light filling the room, noticing it had vague lines and curves that seemed to form something. It was eerily similar to your ring—the same one you had placed on Sebastian's finger, and he had placed on yours on your wedding day.

Why did the universe want to torture you like this?

He was dead; you had to accept it. He wasn’t in that same room with you, and much less alive. He wasn’t—

"What was your name again?" Your mouth betrayed you once more, speaking words that hadn’t even been approved by your mind. All of this was wrong, very wrong.

"Sebastian," he said, revealing more of the ring that had caught your attention. "Sebastian Solace."

After those words, the world seemed to stop for a few moments. The only sound you could hear was your own breathing, which was growing increasingly erratic. Denying to yourself that this all had to be a mere coincidence, a cruel trick of your mind, the accumulated stress seemed to be taking its toll, or perhaps the many sleepless hours and the insomnia had led to hallucinations.

The strong stench of fish and sea salt invaded your nostrils, forcing you to focus on what was right in front of you.

It was him; he wasn’t overstepping or invading your boundaries, always respecting them to have a signal or confirmation that he could proceed.

"You're dead…" you said in a low, broken voice, not noticing when you had started to cry.

"Yeah… you could say that, but you revived a part of me when you came here."

#sebastian solace fanfic #sebastian solace x reader #pressure x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian solace x yn #sebastian solace #pressure sebastian

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haine-kleine · 6 months ago

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The entire manga ending is a burning trash fire that falls on its head in all of the established thematic purposes, but what was done with Shigaraki's character might be one of the stupidest and plain evil writing decisions.

Shigaraki was established as an immature and arrogant AFO's heir and since they were separated after Kamino, his journey was all about learning to stand on his own, developing his own agenda, establishing and chasing the goals he set out for himself. In other words, since AFO's imprisonment, Shigaraki was gradually healing from years of grooming, brainwashing and social isolation.

His backstory revealed in the My Villain Academy arc had challenged the readers and their views of this character, showing his extreme trauma, his guilt as a 5 years old boy who had killed his entire family in a quirk accident. It also finally explained Shigaraki's fervent devotion to AFO, the only one who had reached out, who wanted to help, who cared.

Of course we were aware AFO's motives can't be pure. He was preparing Shigaraki as a future vessel for himself, a means to achieve his dream of living forever.

Then, by the last war arc, Shigaraki has all the agency, individuality, autonomy ripped away by AFO stealing his body. He spends the entire second war fighting for control, silenced by AFO and the narrative barely giving him any chance to talk. One of his main goals was protecting his comrades and their dreams - this is taken from him as well, the League spent the entire second war separated, not even getting one final chance to see each other. Shigaraki dies while thinking of his friends, of his goal to save them, which he will never be able to achieve. While Izuku was at least given a chance to directly confront Shigaraki on his final quest of trying to save him, Shigaraki spent the entire time even before the second war delirious, and until his death, he had never even learned what happened to his friends, the people who chose to follow him, trusted him and supported him.

The very last thing that happens to Shigaraki before his death, is learning that his entire life, everything that had happened to him, was caused by AFO and his schemes. This strips Shigaraki of the last of his agency, turning him into a martyr. His story is no longer one about the unfairness of the heroes-adoring society and hypocrisy, good VS bad victim, trauma and coping with it. His story is about becoming a victim of a creep who had been grooming him since he was 5. One who had tried his best to make a life for himself outside of his abuser, and then had this life cruelly taken from him. Shigaraki doesn't even get to talk or react to the fact he has to sacrifice himself for AFO to die. Izuku doesn't ask him, doesn't apologize to him, he just presents the fact plainly. Shigaraki just has to deal with it.

He went from a victim to a martyr and the story barely even acknowledges it. Deku and Shigaraki were the only people who had learned the truth and neither talks about it or is allowed to share this with the world. Shigaraki died an unwilling martyr, and is remembered as a monster no better than AFO. The public draws no line between the abuser and his victim. Izuku or Allmight don't exhibit any intention to reveal the truth, and we already have Dabi's example on how this turns out.

What is the point of this character ending? Life is unfair and everything is horrible? Just deal with your trauma without causing problems for others, or you will be punished? Always abandon your ideals and your friends if a cop tells you to, or you will be murdered?

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha critical #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #bnha spoilers

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kultofkorii · 6 months ago

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− Devour

✎ sanji x obsessive! reader

♦︎ fic type: smut

♦︎summary: the love you have for him is deep and might be concerning, but he doesn't have to know.

♦︎word count: 1.7k +

♦︎warnings: Obsessive thoughts, no use of y/n, gender neutral reader, penetration

He was yours, it didn't matter if he knew of not, he was your and nothing he or anyone could say would ever make you think differently. From the moment he walked onto the sandy beach of your home island and helped you liberate your people; to the moment he asked you to be his, he belonged to you.

Some of his crewmates seemed reluctant to have you join them, the time it took for them to learn eachother and their mannerisms was long. They didn't want to go through that process all over again, but Luffy recognized you for your strength and saw what you could bring to his crew which had previously been missing. And so you became the Strawhat's very own Alchemist, your expertise being in chemicals, toxins, and medicines.

This had to be the universe's way of paying you back for all the trouble you'd went through. You wouldn't dream of passing up this offer, especially if you could be with the blonde cook. After months of traveling with the crew, you were able to form solid friendships with everyone. While Sanji was your main goal, you couldn't lie and say that you didn't care about the rest of the Strawhat Family. Sanji just held a special place in your deep and twisted soul.

This aspect about yourself you hid pretty well, years of trial, error and rejection had made you see that the world wasn't truly ready to understand you as a person. Neither was your new family, despite how accepting they were. Maybe one day you'd let them see, but the inner workings of your mind were not for any normal person to comprehend. You were okay with this arrangement though, because the more normal you seemed the closer you could become to him.

He didn't have to know how deep the black void in your heart seeped. Sanji in all of his beautiful, perfect glory didn't need to burden himself with your brokenness. When he smiled at you from across the deck, he didn't have to know. When he brought you, Nami and Robin special treats, he didn't have to know. When his soft, peach colored lips touched your knuckles delicately, his ocean blue orbs meeting your; although his lustrous golden hair covered one. His perfectly curled eyebrow raised 1 1/3 cm away from his eye which locked you in his gave. The feel of his perfectly manicured hand grasping yours lightly; you wished you could clip his fingernails and keep them in a small locket next to you heart- he didn't have to know.

You continued to keep it from him, even as he knelt before you, asking you to finally hold the keys to his heart. Those raw, dark emotions resurfaced for a split second which you quickly suppressed before he could notice. Like you'd practiced over and over again, you happily wrapped your arms around him, inhaling the scent of his cologne mixed with natural kitchen spices. He didn’t need to see the depths of your obsession, all he needed to know was that you loved him, and that you would do anything to keep his attention on you.

Sanji didn't have to know, not even as your nails marking his back as he slowly plunged into your tight canal; letting the world know who he belongs to. He seemed to have the same agenda; the way his mushroom tip bruised that desired spot was better than you could ever imagine. The times you've touched yourself to the thought of him couldn't begin to compare to this moment. "Ngh- my love you feel so- so heavenly."

His hips moved with purpose and to an unknown rhythm that was synced to the beating on your heart. Sensual touching exchanged between you two, further solidifying you in this moment. The intensity of it all makes your mask crack just a little, enough for Sanji to see a sliver of your dark heart but not enough that we could ever think of pulling away from you. "Mine your all mine...Sanji tell me you're mine- shit..Tell me...tell me you'll never leave me!"

His pace intensified even more, your obsessiveness pulling him evermore closer to you. This being the first time he'd ever truly felt desired the way he wanted to be. Finally the love he had could finally be truly shared and reciprocated back. He felt his member twitch inside of you, more cum leaking into your canal. "I'm yours mon amour- I promise you I'm yours-fuck-"

Loads of cum seeped from when you two were connected, his fast pace pushing more into you weeping hole. You'd lost count of the orgasms you'd had but anytime he saw your mixed essence trailing onto the sheets beneath you he'd quickly fuck the liquid back into your tight canal. Slutty groans leaving his kiss bruised lips as he tips into the brink of overstimulation. “You feel so good! ‘So good!”

“Oh my fuck—!” The whines escaping your throat were drowned out by Sanji's soft lips pressing against yours hungrily. You returned the same level of intensity, more of your darkness seeping through in the moment. His pace was controlled but the way he drilled his hips into your own was delicious.

Sanji's breathing increases in pace; trailing light kisses down you burning skin. The heart from you bodies makes you both feel drowsy but Sanji won't cease until he's pulled one more release from you. "M'gonna cum-fuck-," He locks eyes with you, the moment becoming increasingly more intimate. His lithe hand lifts on of your legs, placing it over his shoulder to reach even deeper, but not before placing a warm kiss in you ankle.

"Come with me, mon amour, please." He coos at you; the bed shaking with every thrust. The friction, each precise thrust, his burning skin pressing ever more closely against yours. The sight of his chest rising and falling, jagged breaths leaving his lungs. That gaze, like you were the only being in the world as his tip pressed further into you slutty hole. These were all factors pushing you over the edge, whimpers leaving both of you. His stuttering hips pushing his finally load deep while simultaneously ridding you through your most intense orgasm yet.

Lingering marking across his pale skin, hushed whimpers leaving his pink lips at the contact of your lips again his neck. Sucking the red beneath his skin towards the surface, imagining yourself sucking that sweet red nectar of his, devouring what was truly yours. Letting any woman, who dared to set their eye on him as a suitor see, that he belonged to someone. And if they dared to ignore the physical signs of your possession, they would simply have to leave the face of this earth. Sanji wouldn't miss them, he didn't need to when he had you and you were all he would ever need. He didn't have to know.

He was yours to devour.

#koriiwrites #one piece x reader #one piece #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji x reader smut #x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #one piece smut #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #x black reader #x female reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader

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sorchathered · 6 months ago

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Guilty Eyes and Little White Lies

Pairing-Bob Floyd x reader, Bob Floyd x Natasha Trace, Jake Seresin x reader

Warnings-talk of sexual activity, language, drinking, adultery, angst

Summary- you’d thought you had the perfect marriage, what happens when you’re betrayed by the one you love most, and how do you piece yourself back together? Sometimes a little revenge isn’t a bad thing.

A/N- This one has been sitting in the vault for a while! Not my usual at all, but I’m feeling the angsty vibe lately and rolling with it!

———————————————————————————-

He truly hadn’t meant to let it get this far. The bird strike incident a few weeks ago had them both on edge, feeling their mortality and in a moment of weakness he’d let her kiss him. He’d blamed it on nerves, claimed it didn’t mean anything and continued to push down the gnawing feeling that it might be something more. Then the mission had happened, they’d nearly lost Maverick and then Bradley, and when everyone came back safely everyone had gotten a little too drunk on the carrier that night and he’d somehow found his way to her bunk. They’d fit together in a way that scared him, and when he woke up the next morning he looked down at her sleeping form and didn’t think of you once. But reality hit when they got home, and the wedding ring on his left hand felt like a 1,000 lb weight.

Bob Floyd had royally fucked up, he’d broken protocol by sleeping with his front seater, and the worst part of it all? He’d cheated on his wife. His sweet, beautiful, faithful wife who was waiting for him back in Lemoore. The one he’d sworn to love until he died, and it brought on another wave of nausea as he paced the floor of his barracks room just thinking about how far he’d let things go. He’d fallen for Natasha Trace in the weeks he’d been at Top Gun, he hadn’t meant to truly but she got under his skin in a way that he couldn’t shake. She knew he was married, knew what they were doing was wrong and had agreed to stay apart until he could figure out what to do, but seeing her every day made it more and more difficult to do the right thing. The right thing…the right thing would have been to end it immediately and tell you the truth right when it happened. The right thing would have been to request an immediate transfer back home after the mission ended, but he didn’t do that either. He’d been dodging your calls for days, making up excuses while he tried to find the right things to say, but he knew you were too smart to believe him. You knew something was wrong, and it wouldn’t be long before it all came toppling down.

——————————————————————

When you’d both been stationed at Lemoore two years ago it had been like a dream, finally in the stationed in the same place after years of long distance. You’d soaked up all the quality time, getting to work together every day and go home together every night had always been the goal and it had been everything you’d hoped for. Nothing is ever perfect though, and Jake Seresin was the very definition of throwing a wrench in the machine. He lived to rile Bob up, and nothing ruffled his feathers more than when Jake flirted with you. He always joked that you were far too good for Bob, that you needed someone wild to balance you out and keep you on your toes, you’d constantly shut his flirting down and asked him to be nicer to your husband and for a while Jake did back off. That is until he and Bob got called back to Top Gun for this mission, and most especially when his jabs had been confirmed, opening an empty conference room door one evening to find your husband pressed against Phoenix with her hand down his pants. After they’d been caught he had ended it, he hated himself for what he’d done but couldn’t bring himself to find the words to tell you the truth.

Bob knew there was no point in begging Jake to keep his mouth shut, so he simply asked to be able to explain to you himself. You’d been devastated, but not surprised. He’d been avoiding you for weeks, every time you’d discussed coming down for the weekend he’d claimed he had things to do and didn’t want to drag you down to San Diego just to sit in a barracks room. You’d held it together as best you could but you were furious, you’d never given him any reason to stray and to watch him throw 5 years down the drain for a woman he barely knew set a fire in you. So one Friday you packed an overnight bag and drove down to North Island, pulling into the unfamiliar apartment complex late in the afternoon. The ridiculous jacked up truck in front of the building told you he was home from work, and you made your way to his door still shaking with nerves despite feeling so confident all day. Jake Seresin in nothing but sweatpants was a sight to see, and the shock on his face was even better. He had texted you a few days before to make sure you were ok, offered you a place to crash if you decided to come down and discuss things with Bob in person, he certainly didn’t expect you to show up and had to say he was glad he got to reap the benefits of Bob’s shitty lapse in judgement.

“As happy as I am to see you Sweetheart, are you sure you’re up for all this? You don’t have to do this yet if you aren’t.”

“It needs to be done Jake, I need closure and I want to move on. So take me out to this bar you guys keep talking about, and let’s burn the rest of my marriage to the ground.”

——————————————————————

Just a few hours later you and Jake were perched at the bar, nice and tipsy and feeling lighter than you had in days. You knew Bob and Phoenix would be there soon and the thought suddenly had you white knuckling the bar stool, maybe you’d been too bold in thinking you could handle catching him in some other woman’s arms, maybe you weren’t as brave as you thought you’d been after all. Jake seemed to notice the shift in you, knocking his knee into yours to pull you out of your head. He gave you a wink and peeled your hands from the stool, taking them both in his.

“You sure you still want this? I am totally fine with us heading home with some ice cream and letting you cry it out, but I’m also down to kick his ass if you need me to. Whatever you want to do we’ll do it, just say the word and we’re out of here.”

You heard him before you saw him, the group of aviators from his squad calling his name and you knew it was too late to run. You shook your head, plucking Jake’s tequila shot from his hand and downed it, revenge was all you had left and you’d be damned if he took that from you too. Standing up and smoothing the material of the dress that was your husband’s favorite you backed yourself up against the bar, settling yourself between Jake’s legs and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Put your money where your mouth is Seresin, show me what I’ve been missing.”

——————————————————————

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the bar everyone is saying their hellos, none of the squad know what’s been going on behind the scenes and as far as they can tell it’s just a normal Friday night meetup. Phoenix is the first to notice that Hangman is missing from the crew, Rooster nodding towards the bar letting them know he’s on a date with some girl from out of town.

“Hangman has a girlfriend?! Since when?”

“Beats me, he just said she’d come down to visit for the weekend and he’d bring her over when she was up for it.”

Bob is clueless to it all, and offers to grab the next round as everyone sets the table up for a new game.

He’s settling into a bar seat with Phoenix to wait for their beers as she nods in your general direction.

“Well they look cozy, but I swear I’ve seen that girl before, she looks so familiar. Bob, have you seen her before? I feel like we know her.

He looks up towards the direction she’s pointed and it feels as if his world has been upturned. Because just across the bar from him is Lieutenant Jake Seresin with his tongue down his wife’s throat, bodies pressed together with a handful of your ass.

“I know exactly where you know her from Phoenix, that’s y/n. That’s my fucking wife.”

——————————————————————

Jake is having the time of his life if he’s honest, he’d always been fond of you but he had enough respect for the sanctity of marriage to keep his hands to himself. You’d always belonged to someone else, that is until Baby on Board had done exactly what he expected and fumbled the bag. He knew you were hurt and that his chances would be slim for a while, but he’d bide his time if that meant he got to hold you like this tonight. And if it helps satisfy your need for revenge? He certainly wouldn’t mind helping you out with that. He was just a philanthropic kind of guy after all. You were a little tipsy now, giggling while he kissed you and he decided to play up the game a little and slide a hand down to grope your ass. You yelped but leaned into his touch, and he had to keep reminding himself this was just a game, that you weren’t his and that he still had to win you over.

“Jakeeee, you’re gonna get us in trouble if you keep this up, I don’t want us catching an indecent exposure charge” you said a little breathlessly into his mouth, maybe this hadn’t been the best idea; you could definitely see the appeal, and as it turned out Hangman wasn’t just all talk- he was very good.

“Sweets if I had it my way we’d already be halfway to my bedroom, but I’ll save that for another night. ‘Sides it looks like we’ve struck that nerve you were looking for, your husband’s looking our way and I think he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.” Jake cocked his head in the direction of Bob and Phoenix, winking at them as he continued to press kisses into your neck.

“Oh-oh shit, maybe we should go outside before we start a bar brawl.” You were wide eyed as you pushed him back a little, but he could see you were still comfortable with him continuing the plan so he looped an arm around your waist and tossed a 50 on the bar as he led you towards the back exit.

——————————————————————

“What do you mean that’s your wife?! What is she doing here, and what is she doing with Seresin?”

Natasha is spiraling, meanwhile Bob can barely hear her. He can only hear the rush of blood in his ears and his heart thumping out of his chest, nausea rising up in his throat as he catches Jake’s eye. The motherfucking gall of Jake Seresin, he’d spent months jabbing at Bob about how you were too good for him and while it had stung he’d been confident that you’d never be interested in him, but now to see your body pressed to his, kissing someone else? It confirmed every fear he’d had, he absolutely deserves this; you’d given him everything and he’d burnt it down but damn if it didn’t hurt to watch you walk away in the arms of someone else.

“Nat- I can’t do this right now. Can you find a ride home? I need to talk to her, see if she’ll let me apologize in person.”

She looks hurt, but she knows damn well she has no reason to be, this is on the both of them and she has to respect whatever choices he makes.

Bob follows the path you and Jake took towards the back exit, no idea what he’s going to say or if you’ll even listen but his feet carry him anyways, into the balmy night air and across the lot where he can see the two of you talking.

—————————————————————————

“Alright pretty girl, had enough revenge for tonight? Think it’s about time we get you home.” Jake said with a grin as he ushered you towards the truck at the back of the parking lot, you were a little unsteady in your wedge sandals but it had felt good to let loose tonight. You didn’t give a shit what Robert Floyd thought of your behavior, you’d tried to be his everything for so long and knowing that he could throw it out the window so quickly just solidified that it had never had anything to do with you. Something in him was broken, he could have had a long lasting love and he took it for granted. You wrapped both arms around Jake’s bicep and leaned into him with a sigh; you didn’t know what this was with him but you definitely knew you weren’t ready to get your heart broken by another handsome face anytime soon. All you could hope was that he’d settle for friends in the meantime, but you couldn’t dwell on it now, because through the buzz of the alcohol you suddenly heard a voice you knew all too well calling your name above the crash of the waves. Of course he was, he couldn’t just let you have this one night to have the upper hand, he’d actively avoided you for weeks and the second someone else paid you attention he suddenly had something to say.

You went ramrod straight and froze, Jake turning slightly to see what had you so tense and scoffed as he watched Bob make his way towards you both. He tugged a little to shield you from Bob but you looked up at him and shook your head, you could handle this; there was no need to delay it like he had and you had plenty to say.

“Y/n, can I just have a minute-“

“You don’t deserve a second of her time Floyd and you know it.” Jake snapped, but the gentle touch of your hand on his arm gave him pause; it wasn’t his job to be the white knight and he knew damn well you could handle yourself, but he couldn’t help but want to shield you from anymore pain.

“I’ve got this Jake, give me some time ok? I’ll be back.” You squeezed his arm and stepped away, and you thought you saw pain flash over Bob’s features at the familiarity between you two, but he had no right and he knew it. You followed him down the rickety wooden ramp to the beach, the sound of the crashing waves filling the awkward silence.

“I’m sorry.” He said, so quietly you could barely even hear it, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he looked down at you, and all it did was make you see red.

“You're… Sorry? After shutting me out for weeks and then telling me what happened in an e-mail, you’re sorry? Well I’ll be, that’s gotta be the biggest pile of horse shit I’ve ever heard Bob.” You laughed, but it was harsh, it had him wincing from the coldness in your tone.

“You��ve got to be shitting me, I get an adrenaline rush, I get feeling your mortality, hell I’d even get it if you just kissed her. But you slept with her, you gave pieces of yourself to her that were only ever supposed to belong to me, and then to make it worse you hid it from me…for weeks! You have always been someone I considered to be honorable, and this? This betrayal? This is slimy. This is cowardly, and you fucking know it.”

You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, you simply said your peace and when you looked back at him his eyes were full of tears and regret.

“I broke us, I know that. I’ve always known you deserved better, tried to be better, and I don’t have an excuse for any of it. I don’t know how I got here, I just know that I’m sorry. I ended it, we are just friends now, and I know that means shit to you but I’m trying. I just didn’t know if you’d even listen if I called, and then you came in tonight, with him and I realized just how much it hurt. God, seeing you with him- it makes me sick. I get it now, I get how much it must’ve hurt you. I know that’s why you did it, and I deserve it, I deserve it all. I don’t know where we go from here, but I don’t want you out of my life, I know it’s unfair to ask.” He couldn’t even look at you, it was infuriating to think that the man you loved had become this shell, a person you couldn’t even recognize.

“I wish you well Robert, I would never wish harm on you, but no. You clearly need to work on yourself, and so do I. Wherever that journey takes us, it’s not us against the world anymore. I don’t think I could ever look at you the same, and it’s not fair to ask me to try. I’ll speak with our lawyer, see if we can wrap this up as smoothly as possible, but there is no more us. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” You say with a sigh and a small tear rolls down your face before you can swipe it away, one last tear shed for the end of a life you’d always dreamed of. As you walked away from him and made your way back to the lot, you could hear his broken sobs, and you prayed whatever higher power existed would help him move past this, because you couldn’t stay.

Jake helped you get in the truck and the two of you drove in silence on the short trip back to his home, he could see you lost in thought so he let you drown in it for a few minutes until he pulled into the parking area. You swiped more stray tears, and then with a deep breath let your body sag into the plush leather of his f-150.

“You know why I was always on him about not being good enough for you?” Jake said quietly, causing you to turn and face him. You had always wondered, and begged him to stop more than once, he’d always said it was just fucking around but you had a suspicion it was something more.

“It wasn’t because I was trying to put a wedge between you two, well…maybe some of it was, but really it was because he never really saw you. It was always about him and you seemed sad, like you were ornamental, a box to be checked off on his list (and he did love to make lists), but never like he truly saw what he had. It drove me nuts, I’d kill for that, and I knew it was wrong, but I wanted it with you. And then when he fucked it all up I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn’t help but think that I could be the one to show you how much better you deserved to be treated. I can love you better, maybe not today, maybe not for a while, but I’ll wait y/n. You’re worth the wait.”

He looked wrung out from his confession, you knew he’d had some kind of schoolboy crush but it had never occurred to you that his feelings were genuine. He was the Hangman for gods sake, he’d always seemed like this larger than life flirt, why on earth would he be into some mousy little jag lawyer who was already married to one of his teammates? Maybe he was right, you did have a habit of putting yourself in small boxes to let Bob shine, he’d never asked you to but you’d done it anyway; you’d always put him first but he’d never thought to do the same.

“I’m not ready yet Jake, and I can’t promise I’ll be ready anytime soon. I’ve got to find me again, I don’t even know how I got here. But someday…someday I think I might like to know what it’s like to be loved by you. If you can wait for me, I’d really love that.”

He grinned at you and you couldn’t help but smile back, there was just something about him that lit you up in a way you’d never felt before. Friends would have to be enough for now, but someday you’d let yourself really appreciate just what it could be like to be truly loved.

——————————————————————————-

🏷️ Tagging- @attapullman @mynameismckenziemae @bobgasm @sebsxphia @roosterforme @seitmai @sailor-aviator

#top gun maverick #bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin #robert bob floyd #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #jake hangman x reader

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beansnsoup · 6 months ago

Text

Out of My League

Summary: Izuku has had a crush on you since your first year at UA together and he's never had the guts to tell you this. But due to your high school years coming to an end he decides he's tired of hiding his feelings.

Relationship: Platonic going on romantic

Character: Izuku Midoriya

Warnings: Fluff, self doubt?, gn reader

Izuku was in his dorm room pacing back and forth, he had been trying to build up the courage to confess to you for years, but now that your years at UA were coming to an end, he decided that now was the time to finally overcome his timidness and tell you how he feels about you.

The two of you quickly grew close when your high school experience had started, sharing many interests, he knew right away you were the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how short or long the life may be.

He had gone through years of listening to you talk about the dates you had been on, but he had also been with you through the terrible break ups too, and all he could think about while you'd sob into the crook of his neck with his arms wrapped around you was how much of a better boyfriend he would be to you.

Every night, while he'd be attempting to fall asleep, he'd imagine all of the dates he would take you on and the gifts he would spoil you with any time he could, and how he would be there for anything you needed, no matter what he was doing or where he was, he would be at your side in an instant.

Not to mention that his mom absolutely adored you, and she knew who you were the instant she met you due to Izuku going on and on about you when he'd get home from school, she loved seeing him be absolutely smitten over someone.

But even though he had all of this admiration for you he was still scared to admit it to you, he was horrified at the thought of you not returning his feelings and things not being able to be the same as they were.

That's why he swore to never say anything, but now, he was ready.

He didn't know what he would say, or how he would say it, but he just knew that you needed to be aware of his feelings one way or another. The two of you would be graduating soon, and based off of your skills and goals, there would probably no time for you guys to hang out like you do now.

Not unless there was a stronger bond between you both.

Izuku is interrupted by a knock at his door, he nearly ignores it so the person will think he's asleep, then they knock again,

"Izuku? Are you awake?"

It was you, he tenses up, scared to even go near the door,

"Y-yeah..."

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, it's unlocked..."

You open up the door to his room, walking inside and taking in everything around you, you shut the door behind you and finally lock eyes with Izuku.

"Hi."

"Hey." He replies, 'What is going on?'

"I was going to apologize for waking you up, but it seems you already are. Is everything okay?" You ask, sitting on his bed and taking one of his all might plushies to prop yourself up on.

"Yeah, sorry, I just couldn't sleep, too many things going through my head right now." He sighs, sitting down beside you.

"May I ask what?"

'Shit. I said too much.' He thinks as his face turns a slight shade of red, thank God his room was so dim right now, or else you might've noticed.

"I don't know, it's stupid." Izuku averts his gaze from you, trying hard to not grow even more flustered.

"You've listened to me ramble on and on, it's my turn to listen to you, nothing you say will ever be stupid to me."

'Even if it changes everything?' Is what he wanted to say, but instead he just nods his head, still looking away from you.

"Izuku." You call out in a calming tone, taking his face in one of your hands, guiding his eyes back up to you, "Please?"

"I don't want to say it and you see me differently."

"Nothing you say will make me see you differently, unless you say you're thinking of joining the League of Villains."

He laughs, "Of course not."

Your reassurance is what he needs, your joking around is what he needs, this is why he wants to be yours so badly, you're perfect, in every way shape or form, you're what he needs.

His hand takes yours off of his face, but he doesn't let go.

Grasping your other hand, he continues to look at you, breathing heavily before he can get his words out.

"Y/n, I've been trying so hard to find a way to tell you this, I originally wasn't going to, but something just came over me and I can't go another day without you knowing how I truly feel."

He lets out a big sigh before starting again, you're not saying a word, just looking at him intently while also focusing on the tight grip he has on each of your hands.

"Every time you talk, I'm so dumbfounded, how someone as perfect as you would want to associate with me, especially when we first met at the start of UA, I was nothing to believe in, but you did anyway. You were one of the biggest reasons I kept going, I wanted to be what you already said I was. I hate seeing you mistreated, I want to be what everyone else wasn't for you. I want to hold your hand, take you to the park for picnics, buy you things, bring you flowers every day, tell you how much you mean to me, tell you how breathtaking you are. I want to love you."

"Izuku..."

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way, I know it's a lot to get off my chest and just spring on you but I needed-"

He's interrupted by your lips on his, his eyes go wide before he finally shuts them, his hands leaving yours to hold your face close to his.

You finally pull away, "I've been waiting for you to say that for so long."

"Really?"

"Yes! All those guys I went out with was to get over you because I thought you had a crush on Ochako."

"No way."

"Yes way."

He laughs as he pulls you closer, resting his forehead on yours, "You're amazing, I never want you to leave me."

"Believe me, I'm not going anywhere."

I think we're all needing this after the mha finale today 😔

#Spotify #fanfic #x reader #deku x reader #mha deku #deku #bnha deku #izuku midoryia x reader #izuku x reader #bnha izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #mha izuku #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya

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gadriezmannsgirl · 6 months ago

Note

can you do a Ruben Dias one with a Portuguese reader where she comforts him after the quarter finals?

As a Venezuelan and also as a Portuguese, I cried more than four rivers combined last Friday, I truly wanted to see my countries winning both Copa América and Eurocopa, penalties are so unfair😭 This req had me a bit emotional and that's why I'm doing it right away, I truly hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: some swear words

No Matter What -R.D3

Summary: In good and bad moments, you'll always support Ruben.

Penalties. Fucking penalties. Your hands were shaking and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would come out of your mouth.

As a Portuguese, you wanted this win with all of your being, along with every other Portuguese in the stadium and the ones supporting from home all over the world, you hoped, prayed and wanted for your country to get through the semis. But you've always said that penalties were the most unfair thing in football.

Your eyes scanned the pitch but it wasn't hard to spot the one you cared the most for, your 3 years boyfriend, Ruben Dias. Your eyes locked with his, you could see he was exhausted but he never gave up for his team, much less for his country, you were extremely proud of him.

He got a smile from you when he throws a wink at you, he always knew how to calm you down even from afar. You see him walking over to his teammates while the captains go over to the referees and soon you could see Diogo Costa line up in the goal.

France was shooting first.

"Foda-se" (Fuck) You curse out seeing the French player score the first one. Cristiano was next and you cheered when you saw he made it.

In the next round, the two players, Fofana and Bernardo did their shots, both of them going inside the net. You did a knot of the green-red flag around your neck and hid your face in your hands while Koundé prepared himself.

You were praying for Diogo to catch the ball but when you heard the cheers of the French fans you knew it was another goal against you. However, when you heard the regrets and cries of the Portuguese you lifted your head to the screen to see Joao Félix had missed his penalty.

A knot was made in your stomach, you felt your legs wobble and you let yourself down on your seat. The feeling only grew more and more each player passing, until you hear the roars of the French and realised you had lost 3-5.

Your eyes were glassy and could only think about how your boyfriend was feeling. You wanted to run into the pitch and hug Ruben with your everything.

He was too excited, he was dreaming about this euro, he often tells you how amazing would it be for him to win something with his country and to see him now so heartbroken, thanking the public, the fans while being sorry for not being able to get through, made the loss more difficult for you.

Along with Ines and other WAGs, you went into the changing rooms and waited for the Portuguese team to go out.

You hugged Bernardo, Bruno, Cancelo, Lēao, Diogo and Félix giving him some encouraging words since the poor guy was beating himself up. You waited for Ruben who came out last, you gave him a small smile and offered your hand out to him, one that he took instantly.

Going back to the hotel was quiet, no one was speaking but Roberto who gave the guys a small speech 'bout their good journey in the Euros.

"You want to eat something?" You whisper to Ruben passing your fingers through his wet locks as shook his head

"Só te quero a ti" (Just want you) He replied in the same tone as yours, you nodded gripping his hands.

"Come on, let's get some sleep then. We've got a busy morning tomorrow"

You entered your shared hotel room and Ruben quickly undressed himself to get into his pijama pants and laid on the bed.

You undressed yourself but went to the bathroom, he might have showered but you haven't.

"Where are you going?" He asked

"I'm going to take a shower" You said looking into his eyes "Why? You feeling good?"

"Can I shower with you?"

"I thought you already showered in the stadium?"

"I did but I want you" You smile walking over to him and kiss his lips.

"Let's take a shower, meu amor" You grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bed and into the bathroom

You undid the knot of his pijama pants and pulled them down, you weren't watching him but you knew he had a smirk on his face

"Whip it off. I'm babying you" For the first time in the evening you heard his laugh, you smiled going up and kissed him once again, his arms wrapped around your waist to pull your closer.

He, undid the hold of your towel and let it fell into the floor picking you up and going into the shower to open the cold water

"Ruben, põe-me no chão!" (Put me down!) You yelled in laughter as the cold water soon turned warm and that's when he got underneath.

Both of you were laughing until you stopped, both of you looking into each others eyes, his arms wrapped around you as yours were around his neck.

"I'm sorry"

"What for?"

"We did not go through"

"That wasn't your fault. Things happen"

"I know but I wanted it, you wanted it as well"

"Everyone did, Ru" You shook your head "But this one wasn't meant to be, maybe next year it will" You went to grab his shampoo but he hums in negation "What?"

"Can we use yours?" You smile nodding

"Better now?" You ask whispering as you start washing his hair, he nods.

You wash both of yourselves up

"Can we cuddle after this?" You nod grabbing your towel to dry you up and then his

"And we'll also watch some movies if you want, I ordered room service so we can eat as well"

"I said I wasn't hungry"

"And I know you were lying, amor" You pecked his lips "C'mon, let's baby you"

"Eu amo-te" (I love you) "Obrigado por cuidarem de mim" (Thanks for taking care of me)

"Sempre Ru... Eu também te amo, meu amor" (Always Ru... I love you too, my love)

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

If you want to be added into the tag list let me know!😊

#gadriezmannsgirl replies #gadriezmannsgirl writes!#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #manchester city #man city #portugal nt #football fanfic #football players x reader

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fictionalreads · 6 months ago

Text

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,” he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch. It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy, but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile.

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.”

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

#armando aretas #Armando x ofc #Armando aretas x ofc #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #original female character #christine lowrey #fan fiction #minors dni #Jacob scipio #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life

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reignpage · 1 month ago

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Modern au!FAQ

What is the EdenU au?

It is a modern alternative universe set in my fictional university called Eden University established in my fictional city, Eden City. The JJK men all play a part and are connected one way or another. They each have individual love stories playing out with girls who are part 'reader' part original characters. The stories are told both through smaus, fics and questions

If I'm starting out, where should I begin?

I recommend reading based on parts, starting with Toji's, but after that whoever you read next is up to you e.g. Toji pt1 -> Nanami pt1 -> Geto pt1 etc etc Ultimately, it actually doesn't matter so please feel free to read as you please, and there's not even any obligation to read all the other characters' stories Nanami's story might be a little confusing because his was the most developed before I decided to change my structure for story telling There's a guide attached to his parts, so please have a read of that, and if you have any more questions, I'm happy to explain

Who are the sisters?

Nanami's reader and Geto's reader One year apart They live together

How are you going to end the series?

There won't be a final ending, not in the traditional sense The official ending will come from all the jjk men becoming officially in a relationship with their readers But I have plans to sporadically update each story with snapshot smaus and fics of their established relationship stories Happy endings don't come from a label

Who is your favourite reader?

I don't have one I like them all for different reasons

Who is your favourite jjk man to write in this universe?

No one in particular Sukuna's, Nanami's, and Toji's maybe Mostly because they're my three favourite jjk men in general

Which reader do you relate to most?

Maybe Toji's reader We're both writers and not particularly outspoken or popular But we're not shy and we love gossip Though, I see a part of myself in every reader

What's your creative process like?

Creating the series, I picked a trope I wanted to explore using my understanding of the characters, and created the world/plot around that I have a rough idea of how I want things to go, but generally speaking, I go with the flow, allowing myself to change my mind and adjust the story so that it feels as natural and realistic as possible

Would you create a mood board for your visualisation of the readers?

Not likely I like that the appearances of the readers is left vague because then irl readers are not restricted in their imagination, and also their involvement I want irl readers to be able to picture who every they wish, whether that is someone else or themselves

What's your posting schedule?

I don't have one I post when I feel like it but I usually post at least once a day And as for who I post, I like to make sure every character gets a turn, so who I post next depends on who I haven't posted for in a while

Why do the readers never stand up for themselves?

The readers aren't complete pushovers They're supposed to be somewhat realistic; not all women are badass, don't take shit, punch them if they so much as look at you type of people Sometimes women have to bear with men's mistreatment because they have a larger goal in mind, but that isn't me promoting that behaviour, it's just storytelling

I hate _______'s reader

That's not a question but it's something I get often I understand people disagree with the personalities or behaviours of certain readers, and that's perfectly fine, sometimes it's intentional Perfect characters are boring and character development is precious People can feel and express those feelings however they please...to a certain extent For example, if you slutshame a certain reader, I'm inclined to block you because I think it's important to remember that, whilst this is fiction, some people actually relate to these characters and events, and name calling is harmful

How am I supposed to know these extra information if you delete your responses after a certain amount of time?

You could always ask You could turn on alerts for my blog You could visit my blog once or twice a day because I tend to delete around the 15 hours mark, in my head that's enough time for someone who's been sleeping to just take a peek at my blog Ultimately, this is something I'm quite fixed on because I post often so I don't want to clog up my page And if this is a problem, then I am not the right blog for you

Can I make a request for the next update?

I'd rather you didn't I'm not taking requests at all right now And I'd like to maintain complete creative freedom with my stories and people giving their two cents can bias my process

How are the series going to end?

The series are currently in the 'pre-relationship' stage. They'll end when the couples get coupled up i.e. get into a relationship BUT there will be sporadic posts for their 'during the relationship' stories These could be like special episodes of key moments in their life, as we have already seen with Nanami's part 0.5s where they take a break

Could I use your ideas?

No.

#modern au faq

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kikyoupdates · 5 days ago

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Goddess Wink ⭑˚💘⭑ 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑒

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will?

previous | story masterlist | next

“Sports festival?”

“Come on, we just had that villain attack the other day! Are you sure it’s safe?!”

You had heard of U.A’s Sports Festival, of course. It was one of the biggest events in Japan, with countless spectators and people watching from all around the country—some even from overseas. You’d only missed the first few days of class, but from the looks of it, a ton of things had already happened. Already, the Sports Festival was on its way, and you didn’t even know a thing about any of your classmates.

Goddammit, Mikael.

“The Sports Festival isn’t an event that can be canceled over a few villains,” Aizawa brushed off. “Compared to previous years, there’ll be five times the police presence just in case. Regardless, this event is one of the greatest opportunities you’ll get. The nation’s top heroes will be watching, looking to scout you based on your abilities. Naturally, you’ll gain valuable experience and popularity if you’re picked up by a big-name hero. You only get one shot at this every year, so it’s not something you can afford to miss.”

Some of your classmates were bubbling with excitement, while others had taken up a much more solemn, determined expression. You might have been a bit behind everyone, objectively speaking, but perhaps it would be to your advantage for this event that you’d started late. Nobody really knew what your powers were or how they worked, and even though they were your classmates, technically everyone in this room would be your rival.

Following Aizawa’s announcement came the regular academic classes, but you had a lot to think about. You were able to control your Quirk to the point that it didn’t affect anyone unintentionally, at least for the most part. Mikael had set aside much of his time to train you over the past few years, but even so, you still didn’t have any hands-on experience when it came to using it against a real enemy. The Sports Festival would be a good opportunity for you to test your limits.

Lunchtime came, finally, and you stood up only to realize that you didn’t have anyone to sit with in the cafeteria. You were the new girl. Sure, you could probably charm people and convince them into eating with you, but you didn’t like using your Quirk for trivial things like that.

“Out of the fucking way,” a brash voice growled, and you felt someone roughly slam into your shoulder as they passed you by. You blinked just in time to see your angry blonde desk neighbor glare at you as he walked past. You didn’t know what his deal was. Was he always this angry? Or had he caught on that you’d used your Quirk on him earlier?

Nah, I doubt that he could tell just from that…

You stood there, slightly confused, until you heard another voice call out to you. “[Name]-chan!” a bubbly brunette chirped. Her name was Uraraka, if you recalled. “You’re new here so you still haven’t met everyone properly, right? Do you want to eat with us?”

“Oh,” you smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” The blonde guy with the lightning bolt in his hair quickly interjected. “No fair, trying to hog her all to yourself! I’m Kaminari Denki,” he introduced with a goofy grin. “You’re super pretty! Can I have your number?”

You chuckled. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“What—really?!” He slapped his palms against his cheeks, incredulous. “No way… a girl this cute actually agreed to give me her number. I was expecting you to reject me flat-out…”

“Kaminari’s already being a sleazeball,” a short-haired girl sighed. “You can ignore him, [Name]. Nobody takes what he says seriously. Ah, I’m Jirou Kyoka, by the way.”

“Jirou, that’s so mean!”

“I was just giving her the facts.”

You hadn’t realized it, but before long, a group of students were crowding around you. Some of them had already left the classroom to go to lunch, but you were slowly making the rounds and getting to know everyone. Kaminari was apparently the class goofball and seemed to be the butt of many jokes, but you thought his awkward flirting was actually pretty cute so you’d gone ahead and given him your number, and while you were at it, exchanged numbers with some of the other students as well.

“I seriously can’t believe it,” Kaminari marveled, staring down at the contact screen of his phone with glossy eyes. “[Name]-chan gave me her number… I could die happy right now.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, “but please don’t die.”

“Are you worried about me? I love you already!”

Jirou had taken to swatting Kaminari’s head, and the other students were still laughing at his foolish little display. You decided to sit with Uraraka and her group after all, since she had been the one to come up to you first. The class president, Iida Tenya, was a very straight-laced character, but you could sense that he did everything out of the goodness of his heart. Then there was the other boy, Midoriya Izuku, the one who sat almost directly behind you in class and had been blushing the whole time he’d been looking at you. He had a meek, innocent nature to him, and you could already tell it wouldn’t take much for your Quirk to affect him.

“Thank you guys for being so welcoming of me,” you smiled as you sat down with your food. “I know I was technically only a few days late, but it feels like so much has already happened and I’ve missed a ton of things.”

Uraraka shook her head. “No, you’ll be fine! Actually, it’s honestly better that you weren’t there for the USJ attack. I don’t mean that in a bad way or anything! It’s just that it was pretty scary, so at least you didn’t have to go something like that.”

Iida nodded. “I agree. While facing off against actual villains serves as excellent learning experience, we were far too under-prepared for such an attack. We still need much more training.”

“[N-Name]-chan,” Izuku piped up, his cheeks flushed and his voice wavering slightly as he spoke to you. “Um… I hope I’m not being rude by asking or anything, but you sort of began mentioning why you started late when you introduced yourself? I mean, what was the reason you couldn’t start on time…?”

“Oh, that. I was in Greece,” you said simply.

“Greece?!”

All three of them had cried out in unison. You chuckled softly. “Yeah, Mikael travels a lot, and he brings me along with him often. Ah—Mikael is my legal guardian. I was raised in an orphanage, but I’ve been living with him for the last ten years.”

“So you travel a lot,” Uraraka breathed. “That’s so cool. My family could never really afford to go anywhere fancy, so I’ve never actually left Japan…”

You spooned a helping of your lunch into your mouth. “Yeah, so that’s basically it. Nothing too special. Besides the USJ attack, which was obviously a really big deal, was there anything else important that I’ve missed?”

“Well…” The brunette twisted her brows into a knot. “Aizawa-sensei threatened us with expulsion on our very first day, but that turned out to be a lie.”

“Hold up, what?”

“There was the trial of battle,” Iida declared. “The three of us here faced off against one another, where one side was acting as the heroes and the other as the villains. I, for some reason, was drawn to play the part of the villain! But I did my best to stick to the role for the sake of training. However, Bakugou and I still ended up losing against Midoriya and Uraraka…”

You pursed your lips. “Bakugou…”

“Kacchan’s the angry one. You sit next to him in class,” Izuku said, and you noticed the way his expression shifted.

“His name is Kacchan?”

“Erm, no—that’s just what I call him!” he said hurriedly. “His actual name is Katsuki, but I’ve called him that ever since we were kids, so… it just kind of stuck.”

“Oh, I see. The two of you are childhood friends?”

“N-No…” The atmosphere drastically shifted, and both Iida and Uraraka exchanged hesitant looks. Izuku was nervously running his fingers through his curly hair. “We used to be at some point… I guess? But that’s when we were really young. Now, my relationship with Kacchan’s just as bad as it can get. He can’t even stand being around me, and he says nasty things to me pretty much all the time.”

You slumped your shoulders, feeling a bit guilty. “I see. Sorry about jumping to conclusions.”

“I-It’s not your fault, [Name]-chan! You couldn’t possibly have known…”

“I suggest you keep your distance from him,” Iida advised. “He has an extremely volatile temperament. He doesn’t get along with anyone in the class.”

This Katsuki or “Kacchan” guy sounded just as bad as the impression he’d first given off. He’d been glaring at you outright even before you’d used your powers on him, which was strange, considering that ever since you’d obtained your Quirk people looked at you just the opposite. Come to think of it, you remembered him leaving the classroom for lunch all on his own. Did he really not have any friends? You felt kind of bad.

You decided to change the topic to something more pleasant, and you spent the remainder of lunch getting to know each other better. The bell eventually rang, and it was time to head back to class. You leaned over Izuku’s shoulder as he stood up from the table.

“I can tease him a bit if you want,” you whispered.

“Eek!” Izuku jolted the second your breath hit his neck, flushing an impossible shade of red. You’d never seen such a crazy reaction from someone without even using your Quirk. “W-What are you doing, [Name]-chan…?”

“Hm?” you smiled. “I just mean I can tease him, to get back at him for being mean to you. With my powers, I mean.”

“With your powers…?” he blinked. “But… how?”

You pressed a finger to your lips, smiling coyly. “That’s a secret. But just say the word and I’ll do it.”

The freckled boy stared at you in confusion, but you walked away before he could ask for an explanation. It was back to regular classes after lunch, but you knew you’d have to start putting together a game plan with the Sports Festival approaching.

Before you knew it, the school day was over.

“Whoa! What’s with all the people?”

You’d been all packed up and ready to head home for the day, only to find that a massive crowd of students was blocking the exit of the classroom. There was a ton of them—no doubt from all kinds of departments across campus. You heard someone let out a snort of derision and looked over to see Katsuki striding forward with his hands in his pockets. He kept you in the corner of his periphery, glaring all the while.

“Of course, you weren’t even here, so you don’t know shit about the situation,” he scoffed. “It’s obvious all these assholes are here to scope out the competition. They wanna get a nice good look at the class who survived the villain attack before the Sports Festival. But it’s pointless to try.” He turned towards the horde of students. “Fuck off, you goddamn mob.”

Does he kiss his mother with that mouth?

As was the normal reaction, the students began spewing insults and calling him names. Among them all, a single boy had waded to the very front and was looking Katsuki down with nothing but disappointment. He had tousled indigo hair and distinct dark circles under his eyes.

“I came to take a look at the students from the hero course, but I’ve gotta say, I’m a little disillusioned. Is everyone as conceited as you?”

“Huh?!”

“You know,” the boy went on, “there are quite a few of us who didn’t make the hero course and are stuck in things like the General Department. Depending on the results of this Sports Festival, it’s possible that to be transferred into the hero course. And of course, the reverse is also possible for you guys. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that for someone like me, this’ll be the perfect chance to knock you off your glorified pedestals. Consider this a declaration of war.”

You let out a whistle. “So bold! I kind of like that in a guy, though.”

“[N-Name]-chan?”

Others from the crowd were chiming in now, and it was clear that Katsuki’s little declaration had done more harm than good. Well, he had called them a mob, after all.

“Dude!” the redhead, Kirishima groaned. “Look what you’ve done! You went ahead and made us a bunch of enemies!”

Katsuki looked over his shoulder. His gaze met yours once more, and his crimson eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter. None of that shit matters once you reach the top.” With those as his parting words, he shoved his way through the crowd and left your bewildered classmates behind. He was a character, that was for sure, but there was some truth to what he’d said. Winning… you wanted to experience something like that, too.

“I’m back,” you yawned, slipping your backpack off the second you stepped through the door. Home, sweet home. You could hear an excited little squeal coming from one of the other rooms and you smiled. It looked like Rui was working today.

“My precious baby [Name]!” she enthused, jumping onto you, and wrapping you in a bear-hug. “How was your first day? Tell me everything!”

You hugged her back and giggled. “I will, I will. I’ll tell you what happened over dinner, but for now I just want to take a shower and get changed.”

She clasped your hands into hers, brown eyes wide and glossy. “Did you meet any cute boys?”

“Some of them were pretty cute, yeah.”

“Who was the cutest?”

“Hmm,” you frowned. “There was a blonde guy with spiky hair that was really attractive, but his personality kind of cancels it out. There’s another guy that has messy hair and looks a little sleep-deprived, but in a hot way, you know? Oh—and there’s this one guy that has curly hair and freckles and is all shy and cute.”

Rui began squealing and hopping up and down. “Date them!” she cried out. “Date them all! If it’s you, you can do it! You can get a hundred boyfriends, no problem!”

“Do I really need a hundred boyfriends, though?”

“Don’t underestimate the importance of a boyfriend,” Rui said, suddenly very somber and serious. “You need to enjoy your youth while you still can. Otherwise, before you know it, you’ll be in graduate school and still single… ugh.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “I think you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. You don’t need a relationship to have fun. Don’t let those assholes get to your head.”

“Easy for you to say, Mrs. Goddess of Love!”

“Right, right,” you sighed. “Don’t worry, we can look at memes later and you can tell me all about what douchebag it was this time.”

“Please! I’ll probably cry a lot, though!”

You chuckled softly as you walked off. A lot had happened in just your first day. There were a lot of people for you to get to know and preparing for the Sports Festival alone was a big ask. You were kind of craving something sweet right now. Maybe you’d raid Mikael’s stash later.

You just wanted to take a hot shower and relax—

“Um.”

Well, this was a development. You’d just set foot in your room, and for whatever reason, there was a stranger on your bed. A young man, by the looks of things, probably around eighteen years old. Maybe even a high-schooler. He had silvery-white hair, golden eyes, and he had visible scars on his neck, which poked out from underneath the loose collar of his shirt. Yeah, okay. You’d definitely never seen this guy before, but his eyes lit up with glee the second he caught sight of you.

“[Name]! You’re here!”

“Who the fuck—”

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

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💘 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

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summercourtship · 3 months ago

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𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open.

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly.

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town.

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?”

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.”

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.”

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time.

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought.

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination.

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.”

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee.

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you.

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask.

“Tomorrow.”

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.”

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street.

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows.

“...Go away.”

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t.

“What do you want?”

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room.

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim.

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there.

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both).

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens.

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using.

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn.

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head.

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room.

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you.

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him.

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly.

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it.

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else.

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you.

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.”

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again.

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?”

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours.

“I didn’t. I don’t.”

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive.

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek?

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts.

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again.

“Stay still.”

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens.

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips.

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently?

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin.

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body.

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt.

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit.

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment.

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation.

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth.

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool.

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.”

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it.

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore.

#i feel like my danny has become more sedated over time #danny jed olsen johnson x reader #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #danny #danny jed olsen johnson #dbd x reader #dbd fanfic

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 years ago

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Joel Miller Masterlist

Series

The Way You Miss Me Explicit | COMPLETE SERIES | F!Reader Joel is your daddy’s best friend. One evening, when your dad has to work late and you’ve been babysitting Sarah, tequila emboldens you to tell Joel what you’ve always wanted to tell him.

Ghost of You Explicit | On-Going Series | Widow F!Reader Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Trial & Error Explicit | COMPLETED SERIES | Joel x F!Reader x Tommy Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come Away With Me - Trial & Error Season Two Explicit | COMPLETED SERIES | Joel x F!Reader x Tommy Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

The Checklist Explicit | COMPLETE SERIES | Joel Miller x F!Reader Your new boyfriend Joel finds your hidden stash of porn, full of pages with their corners folded over, marking the things you like the most. Expecting him to feel bad about finding things you’re into, things you haven’t asked for from him, you’re surprised when he offers to help you tick them off.

Delicate - Co-Authored with @hellishjoel Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x Single Parent F!Reader Sarah decides, with a year until she leaves home for good, that it's time for her dad to start dating again. Joel doesn't understand the fuss, he's more than happy with how life is for him right now, but decides if it's for Sarah, he'll give it a go. After wading through the dating apps, he comes across someone new, someone who might just be able to be the company he's needed all along.

One-Shots

In His Healing Hands Explicit | One-Shot | F!Reader You come back from patrol with a broken body - knees and feet aching with age and the physical toll of the world. Joel knows exactly how to help you, putting his hands (and mouth) to good use.

Where You Want Your Gift, Girl? Explicit | One-Shot | F!Reader It’s your birthday and Joel, knowing it’s not your favourite celebration, is keen to show you that it‘s not always going to be a bad day, not if he can help it.

She A Bad Lil Bitch, She A Rebel Explicit | One-Shot | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Got My Mind On Your Body Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader He's the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes on, even as he grows older, and you're determined to show him just that.

Ask Nice For It Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader You know this dance with Joel like the back of your hand - when he needs you, you do exactly as you're told.

New Perspective Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader the summer wedged between finishing your undergraduate degree and starting on your graduate programme just got a lot better when Joel Miller turns out to feel exactly the same about you as you do to him.

Mine, All Mine Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader You & Joel have been skirting around whatever this is for years, until he finally breaks and calls it what it is, in the only way he knows how.

Freedom Felt Like Summer Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader Weeks of flirting back and forth with your neighbour Joel all comes to a head when he makes sure every inch of you in covered in suncream.

Light In The Darkness Explicit | One-Shot | Original Female Character Amy O'Leary has a grudge with Joel after he failed her before, but a forced scouting party and a rainstorm later and they are brought together closer than Amy ever could have imagined.

Drabbles

We Have To Make This Quick - 585 words of smut

Come Back To Bed - 969 words of smut

I’m Going To Ruin You - 1.4K words of smut

Suck It and See - 1.9k words of smut

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal

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its-time-to-write · 2 years ago

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hey big fan of your writing!! you write jamie so perfectly 💜 pls forgive me if you’ve already written something about this (i haven’t been able to find it if so) but could you write something post-mom city episode with the reader taking care of jamie when he’s hurt after the game and telling him how proud she is?? 🥹 thank you!!

This one’s canon compliant with you don’t want to know me for no reason other than the fact that I like to make my fics match up. It’s fun for me to pretend like I could write something with chapters someday😇 Hope you like it!

you’re in the kitchen humming

Of course, the one game you can’t go to is the one where Jamie gets injured so badly he has to come home on crutches. He’s not even the one who texts you about it. It’s Ted who writes, Your boy got hurt pretty badly. Might want to come pick him up when we get back.

So now you’re headed to AFC Richmond because Jamie only just let you know they’re back.

we’re in the treatment room, he says, and you don’t even take a moment to ask who we is.

It’s Roy and Keeley, and you aren’t a little bit surprised. They’re been passing around a bottle and laughing, so obviously Jamie can’t be hurt that badly. His right foot is stuck in a bucket of ice, so you get him up, say goodnight to Roy and Keeley, and help him tipsily hop to your car. Jamie chatters on about the game the whole ride home, only leaving room for you to interject the occasional “mhm,” or “I’m so proud of you!”

It’s somewhat of a chore to get him out of the car, mostly because he’s laughing so hard at the sheer absurdity of the situation, humor exaggerated by the champagne.

You finally maneuver him onto the couch and get him laid down, leg elevated. He’s still giggling.

You flip on the kitchen light to make him some food. You wonder briefly how many times you’ve done this: put Jamie on the couch, made him food, and let him take you to bed. It’s been a few years’ worth.

You’re at the stove humming softly, when you hear a tap thump, tap thump as Jamie hobbles over to wrap his arms around you from behind.

“Oi, you need to be lying down, mister,” you scold.

Jamie just presses his face into the crook of your neck.

“Can’t get comfortable. I’m still in my kit and I need help getting it off.”

His words are laced with a suggestive tone, made more apparent by the fact that his hands are no longer on your waist per se, but more under your waistband.

You put down the spatula and turn off the stove.

“Jamie Tartt,” you say in a tone that means listen the fuck up, “if you want even half a chance of getting in my pants tonight, you’ll go back to the couch and put ice on your ankle.”

His hands slip away and he groans, but complies. You shake your head and slide the eggs onto a plate.

You hate eggs, but they’re Jamie’s go-to post-match food. You asked him why once, and he said something about his mum and it being the only thing she could cook without burning.

So you suck it up and make him scrambled eggs every time he comes home from a game, whether home or away. Tonight, you bring him his plate on the couch, sit next to him, and hold it for him to eat.

You say softly, “I’m really proud of you, Jaim,” as he pushes himself into a sitting position. “Didn’t really get a chance to say it, but I am. You absolutely smashed it today.”

Jamie smirks. “I got your emojis,” he says. “Had twenty-one missed texts from you, none of ‘em containing a single word.” He puts down his fork and reaches into a pocket for his phone. “Got a fuck-ton of hearts, some fireworks, and one squirrel.”

You blush. Ah yes. The squirrel.

“Don’t think I can make it up the stairs,” he laments. “Might just have to stay on the couch all night. Sad. Alone. Fucking horny.”

You roll your eyes and flick his arm with your free hand. “You done eating? Because you need a shower. You smell, and I’m not fucking you until you’re clean.”

Jamie grins. “But you are going to fuck me.”

You shake your head. Yes, you are. With a goal like that, how could you not? Plus his foot’s injured, and he must be in pain. He could use a good distraction.

Jamie’s mind has to be going in a similar direction because he asks, “You gonna shower with me? I hate showering alone.”

“Obviously,” you respond. “You can barely stand on your own and you’re going to need help with your hair.”

—

This shower is a lot less sexy than some might imagine. Jamie is trying to keep his balance without putting weight on his foot, but it’s difficult because it’s slippery. You’ve made it through most of his shower routine (and yours too) but now you’re at the final step. Conditioner.

You grab the bottle and Jamie frowns. “You remember how much to use?”

You nod, but he’s not convinced. “Let me put it on your hand,” he says, grabbing the bottle and forgetting to be careful of his ankle. He puts too much weight on it and it gives out with a “fuck,” leaving Jamie’s lips.

He’s slipping and trying to grab onto something and that something is you so now you’re both tangled on the floor of the shower, water running in your faces and Jamie grimacing from pain.

—

You do manage to get him back up and condition his hair to his satisfaction (“It’s a delicate balance, babe,”) but the slip was not good for Jamie’s ankle. You have to go back downstairs for more ice, so now he’s lying flat on his back on the bed, towel wrapped precariously loose around his waist. When you’re satisfied that the ice is secure and Jamie’s foot is at a good angle, you flop down in the bed next to him. You’re still in your towel, too.

“I can’t stop thinking about that kick,” you say.

Jamie asks, “Which one? I did a lot of those,” and you laugh.

“The one to block Man City’s goal. The one where you landed wrong. It was probably the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so, so proud of you. I just can’t get over the fact that you can do all that and then you come home to me. It boggles my mind.”

Jamie’s blowing tickly breaths in your ear to make you shiver. “I was pretty sexy, weren’t I?”

You laugh again. “Everything’s always about being sexy with you, isn’t it? Sure, I’ll admit you were sexy. But you were also admirable and selfless and brave and amazing. You can’t sell yourself short.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment, and you think he’s fallen asleep. You look over to see him staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes.

You ask, “Are you crying?” and the words are barely out of your mouth before Jamie’s saying fuck no but you know he means fuck yes so you roll over to kiss him, because sometimes it’s better to leave some things unsaid. He’s pretty great, and you’re glad you’re the one who gets to tell him.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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mattsmunchkin · 6 months ago

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the alchemy.

kk harvey X reader

warnings: cussing, use of y/n

author’s note: this is my first time writing ff so please bare with me and PLEASE give me feedback! i’m currently obsessed with kk harvey so expect more of these. also, give me ideas!!

disclaimer: i saw one like this about paige bueckers but i cannot remember the name of the author. i was planning on writing this before i discovered her fic so please don’t think that i copied them in ANY way!!

this happens once every few lifetimes.

you and kk have been dating for about 7 months.

you were freshly out of a toxic relationship when you met. obviously you weren’t ready for any kind of commitment at the time, as you were too scared you’d be caught in toxicity once again.

you originally found her on tiktok and immediately started following her and keeping up with her. she took the step and reached out to you. and the rest is history.

the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that i ever had. i circled you on a map. i haven’t come around in so long, but i’m coming back so strong.

that was over two years ago. now you’re sitting in the bleachers of the ice rink about to watch your girlfriend and her team play in the national championship.

you’re sat with your best friend as you watch the players skate around the rink. you’re wearing the badgers hockey hoodie kk had given you when you moved to california for school.

you originally told kk you wouldn’t be able to make it. you had a final coming up that would make or break if you passed the class or not. obviously she was upset, this was the biggest game of her career and her girlfriend wouldn’t be there to witness it. not to mention you also live across the country studying political science at ucla. so she rarely gets to see you anyways.

“are you sure you can’t make it up somehow?” her tone desperate as she tries to find a solution.

“i wish there was a way baby. i tried so hard but there’s no way i can make it.” you say, fighting back tears. you hated missing something so important to her.

“i’ll play extra hard for you love,” she says after a pause, “i’m bringing that trophy home for you.”

you smile as a tear falls down your cheek.

“i’m so proud of how far you’ve come caroline. i know you’ll make me and your team proud.” you hear a sniffle through the phone. good to know this was equally hard for both of you.

what she didn’t know was that your professor had canceled the final. the reason being he “forgot to make it.” when you found out you immediately booked a flight to madison for the game.

you decided not to tell kk and to keep it a surprise. knowing it would either cheer her up if they lost or make the win just that much better.

the buzzer loudly sounds, indicating that opening remarks are about to begin.

she hasn’t spotted you yet. her being too focused on the game and you hidden in the chaos of the stands.

the national anthem ends and you notice her kiss her hand and touch the heart pin on the front of her jersey. you had bought it for her a couple of months ago and she promised to wear it to every game.

cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me.

the periods go by painfully slow as both teams ruthlessly try to be the first to score. it’s nearing the end of the game and you’re starting to get nervous if they’re gonna pull through. you see kk getting frustrated at her failed attempts to score.

you know she is trying her best as you watch her play the hardest she ever has. living up to the promise she made you on that phone call.

the clock is ticking and kk is put in to what might be her last play of the season.

“holy shit i can’t watch.” you cover your eyes just to uncover them immediately after. you’re standing up, anxious as ever.

“y/n, it’s fine they got this. you know they do.” your friend says from beside you as she grabs your hand. you squeeze it as you watch kk skate towards the goal with the puck.

“come on caroline.” you say to yourself, watching her intently.

you hold your breath as she shoots it into the net, making it past the goalie.

you immediately jump up and yell as you watch kk’s teammates rush over to her in a fit of cheers and chants. they lift her up and the crowd erupts. you grab your friend in a hug and tears fill your eyes. you can see the smile on kk’s face from the bleachers.

your friends lift you up over their heads. cheers chanted, cause they said there was no chance, trying to be the greatest in the league.

the award ceremony is quick as they hand out trophies and mvp award. kk obviously winning it.

by that time you made your way down by the glass of the rink. the crowd erupts again as the badgers lift up the national championship trophy towards the stands.

kk spots you and the smile on her face somehow grows bigger than it already was.

she skates towards the door in front of you and swings it open as she takes you in her arms. she hugs you as if she was never letting go.

“how the hell did you get here? what about your final?”

“don’t worry about it baby it all worked out.” you hug her back like she was oxygen. she lets out a breathless laugh as she squeezes your waist.

“thank you so much for coming and flying across the country. thank you for everything.” she says as her voice cracks.

“i’m so proud of you caroline. i hope you know that” her arms tighten around you. she needed to hear that.

you let go and look around, a confused look on your face.

“where’s the trophy?” you look back at her. her eyes never leaving you.

“i got the only prize i need right here.”

who are we to fight the alchemy?

#kk harvey #caroline harvey #hockey #wisconsin hockey #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #the alchemy #wlw #fanfic #Spotify

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fragileruns · 9 months ago

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floating lights | steve harrington

a/n: sorry if this super sucks!!! it’s not proofread and i just wrote it on a whim because i finally got motivation back. i know you guys voted for henderson!reader so i promise to try and make a little thing with that but i just had so much inspo for this. also sorry this is so long for barely anything to happen but!!! i hope you enjoy anyway and follow along for the rest of the series :) i might make the next chapters longer but i don’t want them to be too long incase you guys get bored so??? lmk what you prefer

content warnings: based off ‘tangled’ so technically hostage/kidnapping situation but it’s not really directly described as that, cursing, hitting with a frying pan ??, reader has long hair

wc: 1200

Being locked in a tower for eighteen years of your life certainly stunted your learning, in some ways. Not in academics, necessarily, but more so, it kept you from understanding what the appropriate response was in certain situations. You didn’t know how normal people reacted to a stranger climbing up the walls of their doorless towers, especially handsome strangers.

Probably, they would call the police. Putting that much effort into making it inside (as the tower was quite tall, your mother only being able to make her way in and out with your help) had to be a bad sign. But you didn’t have a phone or any way to contact anyone unless you dropped down and ran for dear life, and you didn’t have any weapons on hand to defend yourself, really.

So instead of reacting like a normal person one, like someone who’s mother wasn’t so overbearing they never let you leave home, you grabbed a frying pan and smashed it as hard as you could on the stranger’s head. The strength had knocked him out, which at least kept you safe. But you didn’t really know what to do now. Tie him to a chair, maybe? It would keep him from being able to harm you, at least. That was the main goal here.

And so, that was what you did. You stared at the man now in the chair, trying to wonder why such a pretty man would be coming inside your tower. He was too young to be a friend of your mother, he was probably your age, maybe a year older. His brown hair was falling in front of his face now that his head hung over, unconscious and not controlling his movements. Your eyes landed on the satchel crossed over his body, and you carefully removed it off of him to look inside, hoping to find more clues.

A glittering tiara sat inside, shiny and bright and extremely pretty. You pulled it out, handling it with as much delicacy as you could. The temptation to put it on was almost too much, but you heard grunting as soon as you started to hold it over your head, so you shoved it back in the satchel and kicked the satchel behind a nearby chair before turning back to your captive.

“Jesus, what the hell?” The stranger grumbled, eyes slowly opening. He struggled against your hair (which had been the only thing around you could think of to use to keep him from moving), presumably trying to bring a hand up to rub the sore spot on his head, and instantly panicked when he realized he couldn’t move. “What - did you tie me up?” He questioned, glancing down. “With… hair?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my tower?”

“Could you answer my question first? Who the hell ties someone up with hair?” He huffed, glancing up at you, hair falling back into perfect place even after being knocked out.

“Me. Who are you, and what are you doing here?” You grabbed the frying pan again, holding it up in hopes that he was threatened enough to tell you what you wanted to know.

“Uh, my name’s Steve. Harrington. Could we put the frying pan down, maybe? Please?” He glanced back down for a second, noticing the missing satchel around his waist. “Did you take my satchel? Where is it?”

“I hid it. You won’t be able to find it.”

He glanced around the room, before his eyes caught on something gleaming behind the chair. A slow smile spread on his face, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Behind the chair?”

“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can see it, babe.”

“No, you can’t. Because it isn’t there.”

“Okay. Sure. But it’s behind the chair.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, glancing back at your hiding space. You thought quickly, banging the pan against his head again and rushing to hide the satchel and tiara somewhere else, somewhere less obvious. You came back just in time to see him gain consciousness again with another groan.

“Could you stop doing that?”

“Why are you here? Are you some freaky serial killer?”

“I look freaky to you? Damn, babe, you really know how to deflate a guy’s ego. But no. I just - I was being chased by these guys, and I saw your tower so I… climbed it.”

You squinted, head tilting to the side, and Steve thought for a brief moment that it was adorable. That was before the throb in his head reminded him of the pan you were still holding.

“And you’re telling the truth?”

“Yes. Swear. Could you put the frying pan down, please?”

You sighed, reluctantly setting down the pan. “Okay. But I need to make a deal with you, first.”

“A deal? You’ve got me tied up here, babe, I don’t have much to offer.”

“Stop calling me that. And, I need you to take me somewhere.”

Steve tilted his head, urging you to continue with some more details. You just stared at him for a moment, not really knowing why you would trust a complete stranger with something like this: this was your lifelong dream. But, your mother wouldn’t indulge you, and he seemed nice enough. Nobody that pretty could truly be harmful, right?

“I - there’s these floating lights, in the kingdom. They happen every year, always on my birthday, and I’ve always wanted to see them.”

“Floating lights…” He trailed off, a confused look on his face that almost resembled a puppy. “The lanterns?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. I don’t really know what they’re called.”

Steve resisted the urge to ask anymore questions, finding this entire situation strange in the first place. “Okay. What do you need me for? You can’t just take yourself? Or have a friend bring you?”

“No. I don’t know my way there and besides, I don’t want to go… out there, alone. And if you haven’t noticed, it’d be a bit impossible for me to make any friends up here,” You gestured around you. How would you ever go to meet a friend? “My mother is a bit overprotective, and she doesn’t like for me to go outside. At all. But, she’s gone for three days and it’s my eighteenth birthday and I really need to see these lights.”

“You don’t go out? Like, ever? You’ve never been outside?” Steve questioned, making you shrink in on yourself as you shrugged. You knew it was an odd situation, but your mother was just keeping you safe.

“Anyway, if you bring me to see these lights and back… I’ll give you back your satchel and the tiara.”

“I could just find the tiara.”

“You won’t. Not this time. Besides, you’re trapped, and wouldn’t you like to get out of my hair?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Steve seemed to consider everything for a moment. “What if you give me back my satchel, and in return, you get nothing? Hasn’t my presence been gift enough, babe?”

“No. Stop calling me that.”

He sighed dramatically, before looking back at you with a defeated look. “Alright. You win, babe. I’ll take you to see the floating lights.”

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #tangled!steve

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