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n0thingbutlov3 · 3 months

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need you now

in which a impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

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saerins · 3 months

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ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it’s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i’m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae #bllk imagines #bllk sae x reader #blue lock sae x reader #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi sae imagines #sae imagines #blue lock imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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weirdmageddon · 1 year

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i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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It’d be funny if y/n voice of reason for Deadpool and Wolverine was a teen trying to wrangle these grown ass men to do their job one of said men being over 200 yrs old 😭😭

Wade and Logan are the type to adopt any fucking kid in their vicinity as their own. Fight me on that. (You can’t)

So teen!reader being the one person who’s is able to put both men in their place is something you’d only see from an comedy film because it felt so out of left field, however with how these two act it wasn’t that far fetched.

You: are you sure I’m not the adult here or?

Wade: you are literally a fetus.

Logan: shut it Wade! *looks to reader* just stick close and don’t do anything stupid.

You: oh so…like what you two are doing right now? All I’m taking away from this is to not be like you in any way or shape if I don’t want to make life decisions that I’ll regret later on in life, got it.

Wade to Logan: did we just get bullied by a kid?

Logan to Wade: don’t act pally with me now like you didn’t shove your sword up my ass, bub.

They don’t want to admit it either but even they knew that without your constantly wrangling of them, they’d probably be still fighting each other or taunting each other until the other snaps *cough* Wade *cough*

Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t bash their heads together and told them to get their heads out of their asses.

Also from an outsider perspective, it will be hilarious to watch two fully grown men getting scolded by a teenager, or weird because how come a kid had more power over two men who had regenerative abilities and years of combat experience under their belts.

I can also imagine that before you leave for the mission, Logan and Wade probably got lied to and were told that they were in charge of the mission, when in actuality it was you who was put in charge of the mission and making sure they didn’t massacre each other on top of that.

Logan would probably try to remind you of who the oldest one out of all of you were but Wade would be like:

Wade: old man Logan is being ageist again!

Logan: I’m not-

You: starting off a sentence with ‘I’m 200 yrs old, I know what I’m doing’ sounds pretty ageist to me.

Logan can’t catch a break, especially not when you and Wade decided to tag team him and so he’d huff and grumble his discrepancies under his breath cuz taking out his claws is a big no no.

#mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #mcu x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel x y/n #deadpool imagines #deadpool imagine #wade wilson imagines #Wade Wilson imagine #wolverine imagine #wolverine imagines #logan howlett imagine #Logan howlett imagines #deadpool

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littlexscarletxwitch · 7 months

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hello I would like to request Flo X reader fic. Where reader is touring with Harry styles. She plays guitar and Flo comes to his concert (she is friends with Harry) and meets Y/n and they hook up later that night (soft smut, maybe some praise or light choking?) . And then like a timeskip to their wedding. Harry gives a funny speech about how they met.

Sorry if it's too much. But this is one of my daydreaming scenarios. I trust you with doing it justice ❤️

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, nsfw, r is harry's friend, flo's also harry's friend, harry is like r's big bro

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, oral sex, slight praise kink, slight choking kink, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3.1k

note: It's been a long time coming but here I am lol. I FUCKING LOVED YOUR IDEA ANON. I just love Florence and love Harry so this was on fucking top. I hope you like it, sooo sorry it took me soo long to post it. Love you all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The screaming, the singing, the cheering, the whole whole scene just sent shivers up your spine.

You knew that it wasn’t for you, not really. It was all for him and you couldn’t be prouder of all the things he had accomplished. Sure, he was kinda like your boss, or so the two of you would joke, but in reality Harry was a really good friend of yours. He was the older brother you had never had.

A sad smile made its way over to your face as the show came to an end. It was always the worst part of the show, knowing that you would have to say goodbye to the unbelievably loud, fun, joyful atmosphere. But the thought of doing it all over again soon offered you some comfort.

And so it came to an end, as everyone hit the last chord and note, and as Harry said goodbye to every person in the stadium. A second later, all lights went out, and everyone went offstage.

“I could never get tired of this,” was the first thing you said as you all made their way into your dressing rooms.

“Damn right!” Sarah agreed. You took a quick glance at her and smiled as you watched her holding Mitch’s hand.

“They always are so incredible,” Harry said from next to you. “You guys are also incredible. I cannot thank you enough for being here.”

“Get out of here, you dork,” you playfully nudge your shoulder against him.

“I mean it,” he said, chuckling.

“I know you do,” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

“Harry!” you heard someone screaming behind you, causing the aforementioned to turn around.

“Flor?” he said as a blond woman came running closer. “Flor!” he said, this time sure, as he opened up his arms to hug the woman

She, pretty much, launched herself into his arms as he tightly hugged her. “You were amazing! she said. “You all were!” she finished as Harry let go of her.

“Thank you, Flor. I didn’t know you were actually coming,” you noticed that Harry couldn't stop smiling.

“I know, I didn’t either. But I just thought I couldn't miss this, you know,” she nudged Harry’s side as you had done a few seconds before.

You cleared your throat getting Harry’s attention. “Oh, right. Everyone, this is Florence, fellow actor,” he joked. “Flor, this is everyone: Mitch and Sarah,” he gestured to the couple. “Elin, Niji, Pauli, Ny,” the four of them nodded and waved at her. “And lastly, but definitely not least, Y/n.”

“Hello,” you smiled at her. “Nice to finally put a face to your name.”

“Likewise,” she smiled back, her eyes not leaving your frame and you swore you felt your stomach flipping. “It’s nice to meet all of you, really,” Florence gently shook her head, snapping out of her own thoughts. “I just wanted to say ‘hi’, I guess I’ll be on my way…”

“No, don’t leave,” Harry protested. “We finally get to hang out. Have dinner with me, please,” he said, grabbing her hands. “Y/n and I are going to this amazing restaurant and I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude…”

“Not at all,” you quickly cut her off. “It would be lovely to have someone helping me handle this one over here,” you motioned to Harry.

“Rude,” he scoffed, as if he was actually hurt but there was a grin on his lips.

She chuckled, “I’m not sure…”

“Please, I insist.”

“She insists,” Harry repeated your statement.

“I, um…” Harry looked at her with puppy eyes. “Fine, fine,” she gave up with a smile on her face. “But dinner’s on me.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

[...]

“So, this Olivia girl is nuts,” you concluded.

“Well, I wouldn’t use that word,” Harry said as he winced at your choice of word.

“Yeah, she’s mental,” Florence said otherwise, nodding at you.

“Was the movie good at least?”

“You didn’t watch it?” Harry asked, but your whole attention was on Florence.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she answered you. “Fans like it, critics thought it was alright. But the whole cast… there was some weird energy going on…” she shrugged it off as she took a bite of her pasta.

“I can’t believe you didn’t watch my movie,” you heard Harry keep on complaining.

“It must have sucked. Such great actors and good people were involved, all for her to ruin the whole thing…”

“I’m your best friend, why didn’t you watch it?” he said, turning his head to you so you couldn't ignore him anymore.

“Jesus! I’m sorry, okay,” you said defensively, making Florence chuckled. “It just slipped out of my mind,” you said as a smile creeped on your lips, mirroring Florence’s.

“You are a bad friend.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are,” he dramatically sighed. “But that’s okay, I still love you,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stood up. “I’m going to the loo, I’ll be right back.”

“He’s such an ass,” you said, once he was gone, as you took a sip of water.

Florence giggled at your words. “He is, isn’t he?” She cleared her throat. “So, I… I have to ask… Are you and Harry… you know like…,” she said, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks.

You quickly realised what she meant and almost choked on your water.

“No! God, no,” you said, clearing your throat, causing Florence to both laugh and sigh in relief. “He’s like my big brother. From the moment we met I just… I knew he would be a big part of my life, and he is… as my brother,” she nodded as a smile found its way to her lips. “Plus, he’s definitely not my type. Like at all, if you know what I mean,” you said, hiding behind your glass again.

“I think I do know what you mean,” Florence smiled at you in accompaniment.

“So, you and him never…”

“No,” she chuckled. “I mean we did kiss but it was just acting so…” she trailed off, licking her lips which caused your eyes to quickly look at them.

“Good to know,” you said as you gulped down the lump that had formed in your throat.

[...]

“I’m sorry I have to leave early,” Harry mumbled disappointed.

“It’s okay. We had a lot of fun, right?” you winked at Florence to which she nodded. “Drive safe, H,” you mumbled as you hugged him goodbye.

“Always,” he said as he let you go and went to hug Florence. “Don’t be a stranger, okay, Flor?”

“I won’t,” she hugged him tightly. “I promise.”

“You guys are sure you don’t want me to drop…”

“We’ll be fine,” you quickly cut him off.

“M’okay, I’m leaving,” he said, making his way to his car. “Good night!”

“Night night!” you said back, watching his back as he left the two of you alone.

“So, um…” Florence said once she was sure her friend was gone. “Would you like to get some coffee back at mine?” you smiled as her cheeks turned red once again. “Well, it’s not mine. I don’t live there, but I am staying there. So I guess it does count as mine—” she was rambling.

“I would love to,” you cut her off.

[...]

The moment the both of you stepped through the door, the coffee was long forgotten.

“I’ve been waiting to do this the entire night,” she whispered on your lips.

You didn't know how it happened, but the glances on your way to Florence’s house became featherlight touches and next thing you knew she was pushing you inside her house and her lips soon found yours. You weren’t complaining though.

“Oh, really?” you teased her as you bit her bottom lip.

“Yes,” she said in between a soft moan, dragging you to the couch.

“We are doing this here?” you said, as you kissed her neck.

“The bedroom is too far away,” she said, already breathless, lying on the couch.

“It’s literally just ten more—.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” she said cupping your cheeks, forcing her lips onto yours.

The kiss only became rougher as your tongue made its way past her lips, fighting against her own. You could still taste the wine she had earlier along with the ice cream she had for dessert. You moved your lips down, finding once again her sensitive skin and decided to leave your mark on her. Something for her to remember you afterwards.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” you said as you kissed right where your teeth had been. “I don’t want you to forget me so easily,” you chuckled, before sucking another part of her skin just to leave another bruise.

“Trust me, I’m gonna remember this night.”

As best as you could, while still being on top of her, you stripped her out of her clothes. It wasn’t that hard since she was wearing a dress, and she wasn’t wearing a bra like she always would. The only thing keeping you from admiring the entirety of her body was the thin piece of cloth covering her centre.

“God, you are breathtaking,” you said as your lips wrapped around her nipple.

“Fuck,” Florence muttered as her head fell back, arching her back against the couch.

Slowly, you made your way down her body, your lips ghosting over where she needed you the most. You brushed your nose against her clothed clit, your hot breath on her making her squirm under you.

“Y/n…” she whined.

You licked up her slit, tasting her even through the thin fabric, making you moan into her at how wet she already was.

“Just take it off already, please.”

“So eager, so wet for me… I like that,” you chuckled, before tugging down the piece of cloth with the help of your teeth.

As your tongue explored her sensitive centre, your right hand found its way up to her neck and slightly squeezed once you pushed your tongue inside her. You could feel her fast heartbeat under your hand, and decided to keep up with that pace as your tongue thrusted in and out of her.

You moved your tongue up, finding her clit and sucking hard on it while you used your free hand to push two fingers in her, making her moan out loud. You squeezed her neck a bit tighter, not tight enough to stop her from breathing, just to let her know she was being taken care of.

“Shit, I won’t be able to hold back for longer,” she cried out, brows furrowed as you keep on working on her.

“Then don’t hold back, baby,” your voice was muffled because of her cunt. “Just come for me, Flor.”

You thrusted even faster and harder, arching the tip of your finger just to hit her sweet spot, working your tongue rougher on her clit and a second later you felt her legs wrapping around your head as her whole body started to tremble and your name fell out of your lips. You helped her ride her orgasm as you squeezed her neck getting the best out of her as you swallowed every drop of her juices.

“You did so good for me, babygirl,” you said as you went up to kiss her lips so she could have a taste of herself.

“Bloody hell, Y/n. That was amazing…” she struggled to speak the words out, she was completely breathless.

“We are just getting started, sweetheart.”

[...]

After that night, Florence and you exchanged numbers and found yourself reaching out for the other constantly. She would tell you about her job, and you would tell her about the tour. Some nights, when she had a free weekend, she would fly out to where you were and stay in the hotel with you. Those were the best nights ever, just the two of you cuddling and kissing and doing more than just kissing.

She was one of the best things that had ever happened in a long time, you wanted to let the whole world know she was now yours and you were hers. But if the whole world knew, then Harry would too. And neither of you were sure how he would take the news. You were scared to lose your best friend —your brother— even if it sounded really silly, you were fucking his best friends after all.

There were so many times when you almost told him, after all when touring with your best friend he knew there was something going on with you, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He would watch as you giggled and smiled at your phone, or he would wonder why you started to stay at the hotels instead of going out with the whole group at night. He didn’t want to intrude, so he settled for waiting for you to open up with him. But curiosity was eating him inside out, luckily for Harry, he would find some answers really soon.

First night in London was just around the corner, and Florence came along with it, since he decided to invite her to that show as well. You weren’t aware of the arrangement until you stumbled into Harry’s dressing room and she was just sitting there.

“Hi,” you said, with a tint of uncertainty.

“Hi,” she just smiled at you and you felt your tummy shrinking.

“What are you–? How? When?” you felt your anxiety creeping in.

“I’m seeing one of my best friends performing, and my girlfriend as a plus. How? Well, I guess Harry made it possible and when? I just got here, like twenty minutes ago,” she chuckled. “Do you not want me here?” she joked.

“No!” you shook your head. “I mean, of course I want you here,” you said, getting closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your forehead on hers. “I just…,” you sighed. “I’m sorry, I just freaked out because of Harry.”

“I know, love,” she said, caressing your arms. “I think we should tell him, maybe after the show.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“It’ll go just fine, I promise,” she added, once she sensed your doubt. She cupped your cheeks searching for your eyes. “I promise, okay?” she reassured you.

“Okay,” you nodded, convincing yourself that Florence was right.

She couldn’t help it and sealed the promise by softly kissing all your doubts and worries away. You didn’t realise how badly you needed that kiss until your breath was taken away. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a caress to your uneasy heart and you felt your entire self melting into her, completely forgetting where the two of you were standing.

“So this was it,” you heard someone say behind you.

A pair of stern green eyes met yours and you felt your heart drop to your stomach, but the cold green eyes quickly moved past you.

“I cant believe you are fucking my guitarist,” Harry simply said to Florence.

You didn’t expect him to snap at Florence, but for some reason there he was doing exactly that.

“Harry!” you chimed in.

“What? It's true, isn’t it?” he shrugged it off, not moving his eyes from Florence.

“It’s complicated,” she attacked him back.

“It’s not complicated. Are you or are you two not fucking? Simple as that.”

“It’s not just fucking,” he winced at the use of the ‘f-word’ coming out of your lips. You were his best friend, almost like a sister and there he was finding out his ‘sister’ was fucking his best friend. “There’s more to it.”

“This is what you had been hiding from me, isn’t it? I knew there was something off with you. I just… I can’t believe neither of you would tell me.”

“We didn’t do it on purpose, Harry,” Flo said.

“It just happened,” his eyes softened once he found yours again. “We didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, Hazz.”

“So it’s not just, you know…” he didn’t want to say ‘fuck’ again, he had had enough with that word when it came to you.

“No, it’s not—.”

“I love her,” Florence said.

“What?” you asked in disbelief, that was the first time she would say that.

“I do. I love you,” she said now to you. “You feel like home, Y/n. And I want nothing more than to come home every night to you.”

You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips. “I love you too,” you said chuckling.

“Great! I can’t stay mad at you two if you keep on being this lovely…” Harry huffed. “You know what, I’m just gonna leave. We can talk about this later, or maybe not,” he said making his way to the door, but before he walked out he said: “Though, I want both of you to know that I’m glad you two found each other… and that it was because of me.”

[...]

Three years later.

Harry cleared his throat before speaking. “I would like to start my best man speech by saying that these two lovebirds met because of me, so I am to thank that we are all gathered here, therefore you are all very welcome,” the room cheered for him, even though it was supposed to be yours and Florence’s night. “When I first found out about them, I just freaked out,” the whole room bursted into laughter both yours and Florence’s family and friends. “I did, I swear. I just couldn't believe it.”

“Harry!” you scolded him.

“Y/n is like my little sister, “ Harry completely ignored you. “And when I found out that my little sister was doing things… unthinkable, unspeakable, unpleasant things, with my so-called friend…”

“Harry!” this time Florence said with a warning tone, making the whole room chuckled.

“I freaked out,” he smiled to himself remembering the moment. “But now, standing here and celebrating their love on this glorious day, their wedding day, I just know it was meant to be. Y/n,” he said looking into your eyes. “You know you feel like a sister to me,” you felt tears burning your eyes. “And I couldn’t be happier knowing that you found the love of your life. And that it’s not just some random stranger you found online or something, “ the room chuckled again. “But it’s one of the best, kind, gentle souls I know,” you searched for Florence’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m glad you found her, Flor. I’m glad you found each other” his eyes were now locked on hers. “And I’m glad you love her just as much as I do, maybe even more,” he winked at her. “So,” he raised his glass of champagne, everyone following suit. “Cheers to the both of you, for your undecaying love,” he was going to take a sip from his glass but he quickly added: “And cheers to me for bringing you two together.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh smut #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #requests by lovely anons ‘๑’

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goddessofroyalty · 8 months

Text

So this was based on a silly joke I have in my head about hormonal birth control not working for omega!Sanji for (spoilers) reasons and him and Zoro then ending up with 3 kids on the pirate journey because they keep breaking condoms.

Anyway this is just them finally making it back to the Baratie and having to face up to Zeff about it (from Zeff’s POV)

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg

---------

Zeff will admit he is slightly surprised at the swell in Sanji’s stomach when he showed up again as part of what seems to be the new Pirate King and crew’s Victory Tour.

It’s not that Eggplant had given him no indication of it – he had been getting more and more jittery every damn time he’d gotten in touch as the Strawhats made their various stops before reaching the Baratie. Saying how some things had happened during his travels and that he’d needed to talk to Zeff about them in person. But Zeff had assumed it was to do with his damnable family. Not that his woman-obsessed omega son had gone and got himself knocked up. By an alpha, going by the new layer of scent clinging on top of the one he remembers to be Sanji’s.

And, because wonder’s don’t fucking cease, they’ve only just gotten through their tearful hug when a little green-haired girl comes running over. Clinging to Eggplants leg and staring up at Zeff with curious, familiar, blue eyes.

“I thought you were staying on the ship Princess?” Eggplant says, brushing a hand through her hair. And Zeff is equally sure that actually Sanji told her to stay on the ship as he is that his boy was as much a pushover to his daughter as he had been any woman who had stepped foot into the Baratie before he left.

“You know she wasn’t gonna’ as soon as she found out this was your old home.” And there was the newly minted World’s Greatest Swordsman and apparently sire to Zeff’s grandkids walking in like it had been his home as well and not the place he had gotten nearly cut in half by the former owner of the title.

And, fucks sake, there was another little one resting on his hips as he does it with that same matching green hair.

“I do remember teaching you about the importance of making them wrap it,” Zeff grumbles, because going by the age of the older one the two it hadn’t been all that long after Sanji left that he had gotten himself knocked up. “I know you said you weren’t planning on getting with any alphas but I know you were still listening.”

Eggplant goes red at it before glaring at Roronoa who gives a grin back that is entirely too filthy and leaves Zeff sure that he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Zeff asks more to move the topic away from his kid’s sex life before he finds out more about it than he wants to.

They had been exchanging letters and calls on and off the whole time and never once had Eggplant mentioned that he was going to be or had become a granddad in any of them.

“I did try to but I couldn’t say anything too direct in case it got intercepted,” Sanji explains, resting a protective hand over his middle while the other curls around the girl at his side.

It makes some degree of sense. Best way to keep the two, soon to be three, pups from being a target is to have nobody know they exist in the first place.

Maybe Zeff should have guessed something like this was up when Sanji had asked him how he had dealt with the stress of raising a kid in the dangerous world they lived in. But he had just assumed his boy had finally matured enough to realize how much of an antagonistic dumbass he had been at times.

“I did want to tell you though,” Sanji continues, his voice guilty.

Roronoa has moved close to his mate’s side, not touching though. Which is probably what Sanji actually wants – always had been a bit funny about any too direct an offer of comfort. Something Zeff’s probably as much to blame for as anything else in his life.

“You have no idea how many times I nearly did.”

“Probably for the best you didn’t,” Zeff says because he can’t have his kid feeling guilty for doing the smart thing. “I don’t know if I’d have been able to keep away if you did.”

Neither he nor his ship these days are made for the journey to the Grand Line. And it wouldn’t have been good for Sanji or the rest of the crew of his to have an old pirate getting underfoot while they were making names for themselves on history’s pages.

“Hell, I’m gonna’ struggle letting you sail off with my grandkids with you now. You better come visit more than you have been!” He doesn’t actually hold it against them and damn well know the reason why this is the first time he’s seen them since Sanji left to join a pirate crew. But he still missed years of his grandkids lives as a result and they had better make up for it.

#zosan #One Piece #One Piece mpreg #mpreg #zoro x sanji #one piece zosan #op zosan #One Piece omegaverse #omegaverse #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #red leg zeff #I accidently a ficlet

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month

Note

He’s just a boy in working boots It didn’t work, so you cut him loose

For Rip Wheeler

Tagging: @kmc1989 @readmetosleep @kierawashere01 @hangmanscoming @goldensunshine91

References to upcoming fics: The Vet and Broken

Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

If You Want Me, You Can Have Me - They say that Rip Wheeler doesn't have a heart.

Stay Tonight - Rip asks to stay the night.

Use Your Words (NSFW) - Rip teases you.

Clover - Rip comforts you.

Before you, there was Beth.

Beautiful, fierce, crazy Beth is how Rip describes her when he tells you how she broke his heart as a kid, then again in his twenties, his thirties and finally the night after Lee’s funeral.

“You were a glutton for punishment.” You remark as you straddle his lap. He’s sitting in the armchair by the fire, the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, the warm glow illuminating his skin. your palms come to rest on his chest as you look into his eyes.

“I thought that’s what I deserved.” He tells you, his fingertips tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear. “But then I met you and I realised that love isn’t about the hardships or the struggle, it’s about moments like this where you finally feel like you can breathe for the first time, being with someone who loves you so unconditionally that it doesn’t matter that you don’t exist.”

He’d told you the truth about himself tonight, everything from the murder back at his mother’s house to the train station. He’d figured after what happened with Gina and the Becks you’d be able to handle it. You’d killed for your country, you understood duty especially when it came to the people you loved.

“I can testify that you Rip Wheeler, really do exist.” You tease him, your fingertips ghosting along his jaw and he smiles as his lips ghost over the hollow of your wrist.

“You know what I mean.” He murmurs as he savours your touch. “You are the only person I trust with all of me, the good and the bad.”

“That’s funny.” You whisper, your lips brushing over his. “Because you’re the only person I trust with all of me too.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #yellowstone

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beautifulchris · 6 months

Text

haunt you

pairing: ex!jake sim x gn!reader

summary: after breaking up with him, you decide to opt for revenge, and revenge he's gonna get

genres: slight angst, exes!au, revenge!au

wc: 1,1k

tw: jake is a cheater and an asshole, swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), alcohol consumption, violence, reader is called queen once

notes: i'm back, did you miss me? this piece is part of my collection of fics! indented are the lyrics, banner made by me on canva.

listen to the song for a more immersive experience: spotify link | youtube link

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @kwritersworld

permanent tag list: @soobin-chois @exfolitae @linos-catnip @prettymiye0n

A place filled with infatuated young adults, alcohol pouring from bottles to glasses and from glasses directly to throats. Sometimes, glasses are even out of the equation.

A young man walking towards an empty room with a beautiful young woman by his side, neither thinking straight, both giving in to the lewd thoughts and desire.

The downing feeling of being betrayed by someone you love, the void consuming you as you easily caught them.

That was what happened the first time Jake cheated on you.

Yes, the ‘first’ time. It was an error, a mistake. At least that was what he pleaded. But then it happened again. And again.

The fifth time you caught him, you had enough. You broke up with him for good. It felt liberating, like a heavy load was lifted off your shoulders. You couldn’t explain to yourself why you didn’t leave the first time.

He didn’t say much, except he didn’t particularly want to see you again.

I know, right? You should’ve been the one to say that. Of course, you disagreed. That would’ve been boring.

Even if your feelings for him had diminished over time until entirely expired, it didn’t mean he had the right to treat you the way he did.

Therefore, instead of avoiding him at all costs, you showed up at his usual spots on purpose.

He didn’t want to see you? You were going to make him look at you. Every. Single. Day. So he wouldn’t forget you that easily.

You weren’t usually a revenge type of person, but you felt like he deserved it.

Although I left, I'm not gone It's funny how every day you say that you moved on I hope that everywhere you go and everything you do You'll never forget me, I'll be watching you

After getting a glimpse of you, his friends would ask Jake if he was okay. He’d say the same thing over and over again.

“I’ve moved on guys, I’m good.”

And he believed it, at first. He’d find another person and it would be nice and new, but then would come the intercourse and his mind would be filled with you. He’d reproach the resemblance between the two of you.

He was looking for a pretty girl he could forget you with. Two, eight, twelve… No matter how many people he’d sleep with, he would still see your face and secretly wish it was you with him.

And when you take her home, you're kissing someone new You'll be wishing it was me on top of you And when she's in your bed, I'll be in your head You'll be thinking 'bout me instead

He felt like you were haunting him and blamed it on the fact he saw you every day. It was your fault he felt this way. You were the only one who could free him.

One Saturday night, at a party held by a common friend, Jake found you outside, a half empty glass in hand, dancing with your friends.

Even if he saw you often, it dawned on him that you looked beautiful every time. Almost like a precious jewel in a museum. An unreachable treasure.

He walked up to you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the crowded space.

Smirking, you followed him without a word.

He stopped when you reached a more secluded area, but not too far from the front door.

“Y/N,” he breathed, taking in your revealing dress up close.

“Jake,” you said coldly. “What do you want?”

He reluctantly let go of your hand and you crossed your arms.

“I can’t get you out of my mind.”

You laughed internally. Perfect.

I kinda like it when I'm fucking with your head I kinda like the games I play, I smile when I see you upset

“How is that my problem?” you asked before sipping on your cocktail by the straw.

“Be with me. Let’s start again, yeah?”

You couldn’t stop the loud scoff that left your lips. He looked desperate and pathetic.

“I don’t buy back the stuff I sell, Jake. What, you’re missing me? You wish we were still a thing? Maybe you should’ve thought about me when you cheated. Multiple times, may I add. It’s over. We will never get back together.”

Everything was said calmly, yet firmly. Your plan worked, he was hurting. That was all you wished for.

“Y/N… I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was wrong.”

“You must be kidding me. It’s a little late for an apology now, don’t you think?”

“You don’t understand…” he pleaded. “All I think about is you. You’re intoxicating.”

“Damn right I am, yet you still went and betrayed me not one time, but five!”

He gulped, avoiding your gaze.

“More than that?” What else was there to say, honestly? He never cared for you. “You know what? I think we’re done here.”

You started to leave, but he took your hand.

You harshly pulled away and slapped him with all the strength you had.

He fell on the muddy floor, soaking his clothes. He put his hand over his reddening cheek, too stunned to speak.

“I said, we’re done.”

You get what you give when you mess with me

You left him there and went back to your friends.

“Ah, shit, my glass is empty,” you sighed. “That sucks.”

You excused yourself and went to the kitchen.

“That was some epic punch back there.”

Pouring yourself a glass of your favorite cocktail, you didn’t look up. No need, you already knew who it was.

“Thanks, Jen.”

“Honestly, he had it coming. What a powerful queen move, Y/Nie.”

She bitched over your ex for about five minutes, during which you concentrated on the effects of the alcohol in your veins and the deafening music playing in the living room, barely hearing her.

“Jen,” you called, interrupting her, “I’m gonna go. Enjoy the rest of the night.”

“Oh—sure, do you want me to drop you off? I haven’t drank a single drop.”

It was true, you should know as you spent your night with her.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to stay?”

“Nah, these parties aren’t what they used to be.”

Finishing your glass in one go, you grabbed your coat on the way out. Most of your friends were still outside. You both said bye and left the property, no sign of Jake anywhere, except the traces of his body in the mud.

“You look happy,” she commented, opening the car door for you.

“Thanks. Yeah, that slap felt amazing.”

She started driving towards your house. “What are you gonna do, now?”

“Now that I’m done haunting him, I’m gonna focus on my life.”

Wondering what happened to Jake after that?

He had a hard time forgetting you. Even if you stopped showing up, it took him about six months to move on. You scarred him for life, though.

He won’t cheat ever again, I’m telling you!

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, let me know! here's the masterlist!

#kflixnet #k-labels #kwritersworldnet #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jake #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha fluff #jake enhypen #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun #jake sim imagines #jake sim scenarios

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zeltqz · 1 year

Text

USED [1]

Ran Haitani seems to have some sort of fixation with you so suddenly, and though you despise him, you don't miss the way your strict father hates his guts, so you ultimately use him to get back at your father.

ran haitani x fem!reader

tags: (5.8k words) one-sided enemies to lovers, college student!reader, implied bet on reader, toxic relationship with reader's father, tenjiku ran haitani, i tried to make ran irritating as possible, but i love him too much, lolz, explicit sexual content: kissing, oral (f), implied blowjobs, fingering, exhibitionism; ran fucks you in a car park, alcohol usage, you work at a bar

author's note: this was based off a request from 🍉 anon (ps i love u so much. i had so much fun writing this). and as majority of my fics are, it's too long to fit into one part so i'm splitting it up....lmao

You know Haitani Ran from the way he walks into class late, unbothered, with a prep in his step, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets, taking his sweet time to walk all the way up the lecture stairs to his seat at the back right of the top row. The entire class sits still, women admiring him with flushed faces, whispering to their friends next to them about him, the boys spiteful, bitter at the reactions of the girls to his mere presence. Ran’s infamous, “Sorry, sorry for being late,” line is one the lecturer is prepared to hear every Wednesday. He slots himself down in his spot, which happens to be next to you.

As someone who takes their education very seriously; it’s unfortunate to be stuck with such an idiot as a seatmate, always looking over at your paper to copy your answers, and if he’s not copying, he’s on his phone, playing an obnoxious game that’s quiet enough for everybody else not to hear, except you since you’re seated so close.

“Did everybody submit the assignments?” The lecturer asks, disappointed in the way half the class sweat in panic, the other half nodding, a monotone yes , sir filling the air.

Being part of half of the class that bothered to do the work, you don’t panic, rather feel confident in your abilities, leaning back in your chair as you can spend the next few weeks relaxing for the final exams.

It’s amusing seeing Ran’s eyes go wide, from the corner of your eye, at the mention of an assignment, his delusions so high that he’s reaching inside his bag for work he didn’t even know existed.

You can’t help but scoff.

That catches his attention, and you stiffen up when you feel him look at you.

“Somethin’ funny?”

“Yeah,” you challenge, turning to face him, meeting him eye to eye. “You.”

He does an excellent job at hiding his surprise, but you’re good at reading people, picking up on the way his head jerks back a little at your response. He chuckles, short and sweet, resting an elbow on the table, leaning his face on his palm and stares down at you.

“Yeah? What about me?”

It’s probably the first conversation you’ve had with him since you started studying here. He’s popular, not just in school, but outside. Infamous for…loads of things. Just know he’s not a good person, the police know that, the civilians know that, the school knows that; yet they turn a blind eye to his antics. Is it his charisma? Does he pay them off? You feel like you’re the only one with common sense in the entire city, because you have a valid reason to hate a delinquent like him.

You don’t bother to dignify him with a response, rolling your eyes and turning back to your laptop.

Ran won’t lie; he’s a little stunned at your behaviour towards him. So used to girls practically falling at his feet, kissing his shoes, fainting at his presence. That last one was pretty exaggerated, yes—but it happened once at a club. Maybe it was influenced by alcohol, or drugs…but it happened. For once in his life, he’s stumped, sneaking glances at you every now and then.

You’re typing away at your laptop, getting started on the next assignment. Your education is something you take a lot of pride in, not only for your future self, but for your father. Overall, he doesn’t really care about you, not as much as your brother. The favourtism is obvious even though he insists he doesn’t exist and you’re just being dramatic .

If you were to ask yourself why you’re spending so much studying just to impress him, why you’re craving fatherly love from someone who can’t give it to you. It’s been your only motivation to study, the thought of your father being proud of your accomplishments.

Ran’s stare is…distracting, to say the least. Whether you think he’s staring hard deliberately, or staring obliviously, it doesn’t matter because it’s still fucking annoying.

With a hefty sigh, you stop typing, turning to face him. “Do you mind?”

There’s a sweet saccharine smile on his face as he leans on his elbow, looking down at you like you’re the best thing in the world. You shift in your seat, not liking how your body reacts to that stare, but keep your face stoic.

“Mind what?”

His smile only grows when you roll your eyes, shifting your chair away from him to focus better. Briefly, you look around the lecture hall for empty seats. There’s no way in hell this guy will follow you if you do choose to sit somewhere else. Not only would that be irritating as fuck because he’s probably found a new target to leech onto, but you’d automatically turn into Public Enemy No.1 if you were now labelled as Ran’s plaything . Eesh, even the thought of being that makes you shudder with disgust.

Your lack of sexual nature is one thing you take pride in. Most people your age couldn’t go more than two weeks without sex. It’s not that hard , you think, but then again, when you have attractive idiotic men running around with their dicks out like the dude next to you, it is pretty hard for some girls to resist.

Deep down, you know if you were more like them, you wouldn’t be able to resist him either. He smells good, always . A smoky signature scent that if someone else tried to replicate, it would be obvious who they were inspired by. It’s so strong that the scent stays lingering in the area even when he’s not around. A constant reminder marking his presence.

For someone that hates him so much, there’s a part of you hoping he comes in everyday, just to smell him. As creepy as that sounds, you don’t go and sniff him like some dog with no home training, just a small sniff whenever the scent wafts in your direction.

It’s not your fault, nor your nose's fault that he uses such a nice smelling cologne.

Either way, it doesn’t matter; because the lecture is ending earlier than usual; the professor had to go to a meeting so class dismissed.

As you pack your bags, you’re vaguely aware of him staring at you again. It’s hard to ignore, but you refuse to let him know that he has an effect on you. His gaze follows you down the steps until you exit.

The following evening, you’re working your night shift at the campus bar, wiping down freshly washed glasses with a cloth when you hear his obnoxious voice behind you, laughing loudly at something his friends are saying. Your heart drops down to the floor when you realise he’s seated in your section, meaning whether you like it or not you will have to serve him sooner or later. With a sigh, you grab at your notepad and pen far too aggressively for someone that should be obeying the bar's policies, ‘always serve the customers with a smile !’ or the one your manager had reminded you far too many times because of your resting bitch face, ‘always look approachable .”

Yeah. Whatever .

It’s obvious you’re stalling with the way you’re dodging Ran’s table, taking everyone’s orders, smiling that perfectly trained smile you forced yourself to plaster on your face from the hours of 1700 to 2300 every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Before you get to dodge his table once more, there’s a tug at the hem of your uniform, skirt flowing from the force of it. It’s strong enough to stop you in your tracks, but not enough to force you to fall over or something.

Turning to face the man himself, your smile instantly drops, back into your unamused expression. It seems that no matter how hard you trained your facial muscles, you couldn’t force that smile for someone that doesn’t deserve it.

“Have you been avoiding me?” He speaks questioningly, and you curse the fact that his brother has stopped talking, now directing his attention over at you. His stare is just as, if not, more intimidating than his brothers, and you feel a shiver run across your body.

“No. I just didn’t see you,” you huff in annoyance; an obvious lie that has his perfectly shaped brows wrinkling.

He’s probably trying to figure out how someone just happened to not see him. It’s not out of cockiness, or arrogance—which seems to make up most of his being—but as stated before, being infamous for doing all sorts of things makes him pretty popular in this city, whether he intended that or not. So it’s only natural for someone to notice his presence.

“Yeah, okay ,” he’s scoffing like he doesn’t believe you. To be frank, if you were him you wouldn’t believe yourself either.

“Who is she?” His brother asks, taking a sip of the water he’s been forced to drink because a certain someone wouldn’t take their order.

“If I play my cards right, my future girlfriend.” Ran also takes a sip of the water, smacking his lips, when he practically hears you squawk out in shock.

“As if ,” you bite out, clutching your notepad closer to yourself, deciding if getting sent home early for refusing to take someone's order and losing out on money is worth being here with him for one more second. “Now tell me what the fuck you want to drink and stop wasting my time.”

“Fiesty one, huh?” His brother looks over at Ran who nods his head in appreciation.

“Yeah. Ain’t she cute?” The fact he’s talking about you like you aren’t even there, or aware is aggravating.

Looking down at the imaginary watch on your wrist, you click your tongue, sighing exasperatedly. “You have three more seconds to cough up your order before I abandon you.”

Ran doesn’t catch your bluff. “Guess I’ll be having a wonderful discussion with your manager then, aye?”

Yup, that does it. You poke your tongue at your cheek, closing your eyes and counting to three in your mind, facial muscles twitching in pain as you force the smile back onto your face. “Hi. What would you like today?”

Ran leans his elbow in on the table, smiling up at you contentedly. “Your name and number, please.”

It takes everything in your power to not drop the smile, but it already took the majority of your energy to put on, so you’re not about to ruin the facade even more.

“I’m afraid that isn’t on the menu ,” you say that part a bit more aggressively, mildly gesturing to the closed menu pamphlet on the wooden table that he didn’t even bother to open. “Maybe if you look at it , you’ll see what we serve.”

He looks down at the menu, and his brother chews at the whites of his nails, watching the scene with a slight interest.

“I’ll have whatever you recommend for me, and your name and number.”

“Would you just —” you shut up before you could get violent, closing your breath and inhaling deeply to steady yourself. Since your eyes are plastered shut, you vaguely miss the look Ran sends his brother, and how it sends him off into a laughing frenzy. “Look. At. The. Menu.”

He makes a show of looking at the menu for a new record of around .34 seconds, somehow already coming up with a drink of choice. “How about a cocktail that’s as sweet as you, hm?”

You know what. That’s good enough. Probably the closest answer you’ll get to the real thing. “Sure, whatever.”

You approach your co-worker behind the bar, tell her the drink is for Haitani Ran and watch as her eyes practically morph into hearts, doing your best to ignore her asking if she makes the drink well enough, will he fall in love?

“Do me a favour and pour vinegar in his drink.” You take a shot from the clean glass she just washed, uncaring of the way she frowns.

“No! Why would I do that?” Ai seems genuinely horrified at the idea, wondering if you know who he is and why you would want to prank someone like him.

“‘Cause he deserves it?”

Ai shakes her head, mixing the drink as well as she can, pouring all her love into it before sliding it onto a tray, handing it to you. “Voila! If he likes it, tell him to gimme his number, yeah?”

“Cool, whatever.” You walk off before she could say anything further.

If this was a plate of food, or a bottle of water on the tray, you would’ve slammed it onto the table, uncaring of the mess it makes after. But since it’s a very delicate , fragile cocktail glass, you fight back on that urge.

“Enjoy it,” you say with the most monotone voice, stalking away before he could find something else to say.

The rest of the night goes by quickly, and peacefully, and it wasn’t until you were closing up for the night, you felt those same pair of lingering eyes on you as you mopped under the tables.

“How the fuck are you still here?” You ask, going borderline insane, looking over at the same table the two brothers have been occupying for the rest of the night.

Rindou has his chair tilting back on its heels as he leans back, feet on the table, and your face scrunches up when you realise you have to do extra cleaning tonight. Ran stands from his chair, hovering over you, enjoying the way you don’t even bristle, or look away like most girls would.

“Wasn’t leavin’ without your number.”

“Then I hope you brought a sleeping bag.”

You try to move to clean the rest of the floor but of course , he stops you, extending his arm out to curl around your side, pulling you back to him.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening to me right now,” you mutter more to yourself than to him, the thought of Ran Haitani now leeching onto you as his latest target was annoying in itself.

He holds his hand out, not saying another word, presumably waiting for you to hand your phone. You reach down to smack his hand away, but his reflexes get the better of you, gripping onto your hand tight in a way you struggled to escape out of.

“I’m not playing these games with you, Haitani.”

“Neither am I.” With an irritating amount of nonchalance, he extends his spare hand (acting like he isn’t currently squeezing the life out of your own hand), and gestures over to your phone, prominent in the pocket of your uniform. “Number please . See? I’m even being polite.”

“How generous.” The sarcasm drips from your voice blatantly, but he either is too idiotic to pick up on it, or just ignores it completely because he’s so persistent on getting your number. “Fine,” you kiss your teeth, giving in, thinking if you ghost him it might be enough to decimate his ego to the point of no return.

“Yay ♡ ” He sounds as giddy as he looks and as annoyed as you should be, you find it kind of cute that he’s this excited to contact you.

“Take it.” You hand him the piece of paper you wrote your number on, pulling it away before he could grab at it. “But if you spam me, I’m blocking you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Obviously you don’t plan on doing anything with him, just ignoring all his messages till he gives up and finds a new girl to leech onto. There’s plenty of pussy in this campus for him anyway, yours just happens to not be easily accessible. It’s not like he would have trouble finding a new target. Hell, you can already name fifteen girls in your Monday 10AM lecture alone that would drop everything to lay in bed with that man.

By the time you get home, he’s already sending you a text that you ignore in favour of taking a shower. Your father looks like he’s in a bad mood, so the last thing you want to do is talk to him and provoke him further with your presence alone. But it seems when he’s angry enough, he’ll look for anything to argue with you about.

After eating dinner, you were perched up on the living room couch, enjoying yourself some pity ramen as you watch Love Island USA, engaging in on the drama before your father storms in; clearly irritated as he hears the stupid voices on the TV.

“Can you turn that crap off ? My news programme starts soon.”

You barely bother to look at him, focusing back on the TV, more specifically, the shot of Tommy, 27, as the camera pans downwards towards his abs. It’s a bit annoying he had to walk in now , but you don’t care. You’re ‘grown’ according to his words whenever you ask him to help you out with something. You’re a grown woman now, what do you need my help for? Act like an adult.

And acting you will .

He seems offended that you don’t respond, instead drool over some dude on the TV. “When are you going to start acting your—”

“My what ? My age? I’m nineteen, not 34 with three kids. You should be lucky that I’m not out there, doing drugs, sleeping around, getting arrested like most people my age are! Because if you want that, just tell me. I’ll do it.”

“They’re being irresponsible in their own way. What about you? When was the last time you even showed me your grades?”

“Because the last time I recall, you told me I’m a grown woman, so why should a grown woman show her father her grades, like I’m a fucking child?”

“Do not swear in my house.”

You take a moment to chew your food before cussing up a storm, spewing out every swear word you can think of. The argument escalates with both of you yelling at each other, expressing your differing opinions and frustrations. The tension in the room was palpable, and the exchange of your words became equally hurtful.

“You never listen to me, Dad! You’re so focused on yourself and your failing business that you can’t see that I’m not you and I won’t sacrifice my happiness just to please you.”

“This is not about me ! What don’t you get?! This is about you being responsible and making something of yourself. Right now? All I see is a pathetic girl, crushing over men that are twice her age on the TV. You’re just being stubborn and selfish.”

“Oh, so you want me to go after real men then? That what you want? You want me to find some toxic asshole that would ruin me so I can come back home to you so you’d have some sick pleasure of saying I told you so ?” At this point, you feel emotionally drained, too tired to keep arguing like this.

Your day was going well-ish , minus the pest called Ran Haitani, but removing him from the equation made your day overall a 9. Knowing your father, he would only continue escalating the issue at hand because he can, so you hand him the remote. “ There . Change the damn channels and enjoy your news programme.”

He seems awfully proud of himself, like he didn’t just verbally abuse his child all for some goddamn news programme. You can’t find it in yourself to walk out of the living anyway, so you both sit there in silence. The only sounds are the remote buttons clicking as he types in the channel.

As the news unfolded, the anchor mentioned the infamous delinquent gang known as Tenjiku, followed by the name you were all too familiar with: Ran Haitani, and a few other random guys he’s criminally acquainted with. Your father’s face tightens and he looks over at you.

“Those boys are you age, right?”

You fight the urge to say, yeah, want me to join them? , choosing to be the bigger person and nod your head in silence.

“This is what I hate about your generation—”

And here he goes again. You tune him out now, instead focusing on the news reporter discussing how gang violence has been increasing rapidly over the course of the last few weeks as many young influenced middle school boys are now joining more gangs. In the background, your dads rant comes to a stop.

“I’m glad you stay at home all day instead of being around bad news like them. I don’t want my child getting caught up in their mess.”

You sigh, not bothering to comment on how your dad is a fucking hypocrite, but realise that his concern stems from a desire to protect you. It’s a shame you didn’t care because you found your hands moving to your phone, sending a quick text out to Ran, asking him to hang out this weekend.

Is it wrong of you to be using him like this just to get your dad angry?

Yeah, probably. But Ran was most likely using you in the same way just to impress his friends, so in a sick sense, you were both even.

Days pass by after the living room encounter with your father, and you found yourself deep in thought. One evening, you decided to take matters into your own hands, determined to seize the opportunity, you snuck out of your room, venturing to Tenjiku’s hangout location; just an abandoned car park. Ran spots you looking around the place uncomfortably, so obviously out of place, and hops off the wall to head over to you. His expression shifts from surprise, to amused, chuckling as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well well well, look who’s finally caved.”

If it wasn’t for the fact you just spent the last fifteen minutes walking here, you would’ve abandoned the plan you made and gone home already. His cockiness was something you weren’t excited to entertain.

“Don’t get too excited before I change my mind,” you say firmly, ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach when his eyes shamelessly wander down the length of your body.

“I like that attitude,” he admits with a smirk, tilting your chin up with his finger, making you meet his gaze.

Maybe it was out of pure shock, but you don’t remove his finger, just let him redirect your gaze to meet his eyes. You notice how nice his face is up close. Regularly, you can’t bear to stare at him for longer than five seconds at a time, but with his finger keeping your face upright, it allows you to notice his long lashes, how they’re curved upwards almost perfectly, the faint splatter of freckles dusted asymetically across his cheeks. His hair…you refuse to comment on it, lest you say something you’d regret. But that aside, he wasn’t bad , and you maybe…just a little— (a smidge or a pinch) see the hype around him. His voice wasn’t anything to play around with either, and you’d think if it didn’t belong to an ingrate like him, you could successfully admit without a shadow of a doubt that you liked it.

You seem to be oogling his face, sending him mixed signals because he’s leaning in, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that instantaneously sends a rush of adrenaline through your body. You were too stunted to push him off, despising how you’re enjoying the feeling of his lips moving against your stiff ones. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it had been a while since you kissed someone, so you were a little off. It was like he could sense your hesitation, your awkwardness, because his hand cups the back of your head, gripping your hair as he moves your head in the way he wants you.

The fact you now know that Ran Haitani is a good kisser pisses you off because that was information you couldn’t care less about storing inside your brain. But what pisses you off more is the fact you still haven’t pulled away yet , and his friends are not even a couple metres away, smoking or whatever it is they do in their free time.

He bends down to pick you up from your thighs, relishing in the way you yelp from being lifted from the ground so suddenly, holding onto his shoulders for balance.

“Relax, would ya? I’m not gunna drop you.” He’s referring to the tight grip you have on his shoulders as he walks towards his car.

“You might as well. I need some sense knocked into me anyway.”

“That’s not the only thing I’ll—” He stops himself with a grin, refusing to finish those words and leaving you second guessing.

Obviously you’re not stupid , you have some vague idea of what dirty joke he’s implying. “You’re sick.”

“‘M aware of that.” He puts you on the hood of his car, laying you flat as he steps in between your open legs.

It seems he misunderstood what you came here for because you didn’t come here for this, yet you still can’t find it in yourself to push him away, moaning softly when his lips crash down to your neck, sucking away at your skin. Maybe tricking Ran into dating you would do no good, he’s not cut out for relationships anyway; your brain tries to persuade you that revenge on your father isn’t worth your dignity but with the way he’s kissing down your neck, so sensual, you can’t help but clasp your arms around his head, guiding him further down your body.

He goes further downwards and lifts your shirt up to reveal your stomach, kissing the soft skin there while simultaneously hooking his fingers between the layers of your shorts and panties, tugging them off your body, placing them next to you on the car.

Is it a little (just a little????) crazy that you’re about to get eaten out in public, on a hood of a car ? Yes, it is. But the rush of adrenaline hits you before you had the chance to fight it off. You’re aware you’re a bit of a hypocrite but looking down at him between your legs had shifted the narrative of your thoughts a little.

He kisses the flesh of your thighs, teasing you as he surges upwards to around your pussy, pressing a light kiss to your clit before moving back to your thighs.

Irrirated, and desperate, you call his name out as harsh as you can, only for it to come out as a breathless plea. “Stop messing around, Ran.”

You’re not ready for him to flick his eyes up at you, those damn hooded eyes staring at you with a longing hunger. “So you do want this?”

“I didn’t let you lay me on your fucking car for no reason, Ran.”

His fingers dig painfully into your thighs, reminding you he has the upper hand here. “I’d like some respect when you speak to me from now on.”

“Suck a dick.”

“You will later. For now though…” he trails off as he looks back down at the wetness that accumulated between your legs and leans down, sticking his tongue out to lick a stripe from base to tip, circling his tongue around your clit and repeating the shameless action.

You bite down on your lip, hard, in an attempt to silence yourself. The loud laughter coming a couple feet away reminds you that you’re not alone, and the last thing you’d want is for his friends to find you like this. Especially not his brother, oh no , he’s the last one you’d want to see right now. He’s the only one out of the group that witnessed your initial disdain for his brother, and you’d at least like to slither away from this night with a shred of dignity, knowing that to the rest of the general public that know you, you didn’t just fall to your knees for Ran Haitani.

Your moans shift in pitch when he begins working you open with his tongue, wrapping your legs around his head so his hands are free, he rubs his finger up and down your folds, enjoying the way you squirm from the sensation.

It’s hard to stay focused on him, his tongue, his finger that just slipped inside you. It’s even harder to stay focused on controlling your noises when he curls his finger just right . He pulls his finger out, spreading apart your folds with two fingers, and licks you up, flicking his tongue on your clit.

He really knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? Fuck, you’re frantically looking to the side, at the sound of his friends, stomach twisting in knots from the anticipation of being caught.

Knowing that your attention is elsewhere pisses him off, shoving two of his fingers back inside you without fanfare; you let out a loud moan, instantly covering your mouth and glare down at him, ready to hiss at him before he’s standing up, holding you by the throat to pull you forward into a sitting position. His fingers are still ravaging your insides as he looks at you, keeping you steady by the hand on your throat.

“Focus on me , not them.” He watches your eyes threaten to roll back when he twists his fingers perfectly, curling them against your g-spot.

“I—I ca—” He kisses you again, hot and heavy, not letting you explain yourself. Though you should smack him for choking you like that, you’re partly grateful because he’s doing a great job at silencing you, swallowing your moans down as his tongue slides against your own. You can taste yourself in the kiss, and it’s bitter , but Ran seems to enjoy it because he’s pulling away to kneel back between your legs.

You shift to lay down against the hood once more but his spare hand grips your hips, stopping you.

“Stay there,” he says, pulling his fingers our momentarily to tug your body towards him.

You almost fall off the car, and you most definitely would’ve fell forward if he wasn’t steadying you. He shoves his face back between your legs, devouring your pussy with his lips and tongue, overstimulating your clit to the point of no return as he clamps his lips around it, sucking hard before you fall apart. Goosebumps form on the surface of your arms as he flicks his tongue against your cunt at a rapid speed, slurping your wetness hungrily.

You slap your hand over your mouth, having to bite down into it to conceal your moans as he works you through your orgasm. Your thighs twitch and convulse by his face as he looks up at you, watching you fall apart. He shamelessly watches your chest inflate and deflate with every fast paced breath you let out.

“So fuckin’ pretty ,” he stands, laying you back down against the hood of his car. He cages you in, kissing you without letting you catch your breath.

Your legs wrap around his waist, locking him in close as his hand grips onto your chin, tilting your face up so he could kiss you deeper. He’s such a good kisser it’s almost humbling how quickly he can placate you with his lips alone.

He pulls away with a devilish smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, pushing him away from you to slide off the car.

“Don’t get all cocky now ,” he coos, wondering where this energy was not even ten seconds ago.

Your legs wobble and you fight to stand upright, but manage just fine, refusing to give him that much power over you. Grabbing your pants and shorts, you change back in shame, meanwhile he just leans against the hood of the car, watching you with a satisfied look on his face.

“Nothin’ to say?”

“Take me home.” At least tonight wasn’t a total bust; you can still go home and have your dad see him bring you back. You can still have a little bit of dignity left.

He shrugs and fishes out his car keys from his pockets. His car smells just as nice as him, you think as you step inside, tugging your seatbelt on.

“Where do you live?”

You tell him your address and it’s weird how he knows the city in and out, not even pulling out a GPS before figuring out the direction to your house. He parks right in front of your gate and you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt to get out. You’ve spent more time here than you’d initially planned anyway.

Except he locks the doors before you could get a chance.

The irritation bubbling from earlier comes back and you’re reminded of all the reasons why you despise him.

“Let me out.”

“Not yet, pretty.” He turns off the car and turns to face you. It’s amusing to him how you still haven’t quite caught your breath yet, still panting slightly as a result from your orgasm.

“What do you want now ?”

He hums in contemplation, musing his thoughts over. “Honestly? To bend you over my backseat.” He sends a suggestive look over to the back and your lips part open in shock. Mainly shocked due to how shameless this guy actually is, but also because you…liked the—no.

No. Moving on.

“Well that’s—uh—” You’re at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, struggling to think of something witty to say and the smirk on his face has you wishing your brain was actually functioning right now so you could say something to wipe it off.

“Looks like I finally broke that know-it-all brain of yours.”

“You didn’t—” Your voice gets tinier and tinier as he leans forward, cupping the back of your head to kiss you again. This time, he’s much slower than the previous two, taking his sweet time to work you open. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip and you subconsciously hold his nape to tug him closer.

He pulls away before you could fully get into it, eyes lingering on the swell of your bottom lips before flicking up to your eyes, looking down breathlessly at him.

“Think your pops’ is mad at me.” He nods past your body, out the window revealing your dad on the doorstep of your house, looking positively furious, arms crossed by his side, waiting, daring you to step foot inside his house.

You whip your head backwards, eyes widening marginally at his face.

You’ve never seen him that mad before….

“On second thought…” you bite your lip, picking your dignity again over your mental well-being. You’re far too out of it to have another argument with him tonight. “Can you take me to yours?”

“Fuck, ‘course I can.”

i'll upload part two later this week once i finish writing it 👻

extra author's note: just a lil fun fact of the day : the arguement between reader and her father was actually one i had with my own dad😒 except obviously more exaggarated to fit in with the storyline. funnnnn...

#—tr </3 #haitani ran smut #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran smut #ran x reader #ran x you #haitani ran x you #haitani ran x y/n #tr x reader #tr smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

Note

Ik you said some of Eddie’s “fans” don’t like Steve but do you think any of Eddie’s fan would go out of their way to harass Steve purposely? Either out in public, through his Facebook, or even like physical mail? Like how would Eddie even react to that especially after the doctor’s office video debacle?

I absolutely think that some people would go out of their way to harass Steve.

Eddie uses his socials to showcase his life so you get a very real and authentic view of who he is, and sometimes you get even more than he intended to show because he never remembers to end his live streams. I think it’s inevitable that some fans are going to feel like they know him personally, but it becomes a problem when they think they know what’s best for Eddie.

People loved Steve when Eddie was posting funny videos about his clumsy husband. They loved him more when Eddie got serious and spoke about Steve’s health issues. It was only once Steve stopped being perfect that they started speaking up.

And though, it is few. They speak loudly.

Steve’s not on any social media other than Facebook, but his Facebook page is private. He doesn’t accept friend requests from people he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t use Facebook Messenger because he refuses to download the app.

What Steve does get on Facebook is a lot of people tagging him in posts about how much they hate him or how awful he is. He gets a lot of ads on his timeline with TMZ articles about how Eddie should end his marriage, and he gets people commenting under them knowing that Steve sees them.

And it’s upsetting, but the letters are worse.

The first one is mailed to his school. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out where Steve taught. Some of his students are in Eddie’s comments and some post videos of themselves wearing their school colors.

Steve shreds the first letter.

He doesn’t know what to do with it and he doesn’t know what to say when Eddie asks him later that day how school was. He swallows hard and says, “It was fine. Nothing interesting happened.”

And Eddie smiles, and lie doesn’t feel so bad.

The second letter is mailed to their house.

It’s sitting on top of a stack of bills with his name printed neatly on top when he gets home from work. Eddie mentions that he got something from a former student, and Steve smiles even as he reads the first of many hateful paragraphs, and he says, “Thank you.”

This letter stays neatly folded in his nightstand with the third letter, and the fourth that details how they want Steve to have a seizure and die. He never says anything. He doesn’t even know how to begin to have that conversation, and he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want Eddie to be upset, so – so why is Steve so upset when he comes back inside after taking their trash to the curb and sees Eddie holding them. Why is he angry? Why is his ears ringing when Eddie asks how long this has been going on, and Steve just snaps, “Why are you going through my things? Who – who gave you the right?”

“I was checking to see if you needed a refill on your migraine medication before I go out of town,” Eddie snapped back, yanking the letters away when Steve reached for them, “What the fuck, Steve? How long has this been going on for?”

“Eddie, stop-“

“Were you planning on telling me that someone is sending you death threats?”

“No.”

Eddie stops long enough for Steve to snatch the letters back and rip them to shreds like he should have done in the first place. Steve’s angry with himself for getting caught and for the sad kicked puppy look on Eddie’s face, and if he wasn’t so – Why is he crying? He’s not even upset so why is he crying? Why can’t – “What did I do wrong? I don’t understand why people don’t like me."

“Stevie,” Eddie says, voice weak the way it is when he’s trying not to cry and this is Steve’s fault too. He didn’t want to upset Eddie and now he’s going to cry. “Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect, Stevie. You’re perfect for me and if some – some fucking asshole with stamps can’t see that then that’s on them. Not you.”

“You don’t – no one deserves this shit, okay?” Eddie tells him, practically begs him to understand that. “This is serious, Steve. They have our address and they’re making threats. You can’t hide something like this. You have to understand that.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m upset, babe. I’m upset that my so-called fans are treating you like this and that you’ve looked so miserably lately, and you felt like you couldn’t tell me why. You are more important to me than any of this, and if I have to stop doing shows or posting online than-“

“No,” Steve snaps at him, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t want you to stop, Eddie. I don’t want this to be another thing you can’t do because of me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, Ed. I don’t know, but you stopped touring because of me. You can’t kiss your husband at the top of a rollercoaster like you want to because my head’s too fucked up. You can’t even sleep half the time because you can’t trust me to not leave. You can’t have flashing lights at your shows, or watch fun movies, or –“

“Steve, I don’t give a fuck about those things. Do you think I’m unhappy?”

“The whole world thinks you’re unhappy, Eddie!”

“I don’t care about the world, Steve. I care about you.”

There comes a point where the conversation fizzles out and the anger leaves, but the sadness remains. Steve goes to bed because there’s nothing else to do, and Eddie goes to his studio.

He sets up his phone and he records a short Tiktok saying, “The meet-and-greet in Indianapolis this Friday is canceled and I won’t be attending the Corroded Coffin concert this weekend or any following weekend indefinitely. You can thank the fucker sending death threats to my family.”

#I left out someone confronting Steve in public because that’s terrifying and also I didn’t read the prompt very well #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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ripplestitchskein · 4 months

Text

To be a bit clearer about my issue with the tweet that I talked about in this post as I was posting in the car on the way home (I was not driving but had to do it fast because I get super motion sick) and have had some time to expand a bit:

If we’re talking about the general concept “Stolas set the parameters of the initial sexual transaction thus rooting their relationship in sex from the start and because Blitz is too self loathing and willfully blind to see the desired parameters have changed it is Stolas who made their relationship all about sex in large part because Blitz was never going to be in a healthy enough space to be the one to change it” then yes I agree with the sentiment.

Stolas could have simply said “I’ll let you use the grimoire in exchange for a date” instead of jumping straight to sexual relationship and they could have gotten to know each other first, maybe one date for each Full Moon*. So yes, he did make it this way, he set the terms. At the start of the show.

(*Side note: This would be a super cute fanfic premise tbh and if the show did something like that, where they need to exchange something and say “Hey, how about we make a deal to go on a date on the Full Moon” it would be a really fucking adorable way to reconcile them *starry eyes*. Just think about how much that would slap. The narrative circle of that would be *chef’s kiss*. )

My problem with the framing of “Stolas started it that way in Murder Family, was super over the top horny for a few episodes, now he must suffer the consequences despite the fact that he has been trying to change their dynamic since Blitz expressed how he felt in Ozzie’s” is that, the events of The Circus completely recontextualize the deal we see made and Stolas’s behavior.

We, the audience, didn’t know in S1 that Blitz initiated the whole thing and that Stolas was just mirroring that energy, so I am extremely understanding of this perception pre-S2. Even up until Western Energy, but by Oops we have enough evidence to show Stolas has been trying, Blitz is just refusing. So Stolas didn’t “make it this way” for where the characters are NOW. Not in a “It is Blitz’s fault” taking sides in the divorce way, but in a “This is about character growth or the deliberate lack of it within the story” way.

My big issue with the tweet now, and didn’t learn until I read the tags of a lovely person is that is apparently from an individual who actually works on the show. And that is….kinda concerning to me. A bit.

The idea that Stolas’s efforts count for nothing because he set the initial deal and behaved badly at the start, that we the audience should still see the current dynamic as “Stolas making everything sexual” is a problem 8 episodes into the 2nd season. We have many examples of him not doing that any longer, he has changed, we the audience have been shown that change. Why is it still being framed this way by the actual creative team?

I don’t know how animation production works, so I’m not sure if the people who work as animators are given the whole picture or not. I don’t even know they are fans necessarily, or if they get their individual parts to work on and that’s it. I have zero background info on how these meetings are conducted. I am not coming from a position of authority in this regard.

Setting aside the dismissal of Stolas’s character growth this season. framing it this way undermines the journey Blitz is on too. At this point in the story he is refusing to acknowledge Stolas’s earnest attempts, his willful ignorance is not a funny gag but a reflection of his character and state of mind. It is implied his own trauma and self loathing make him unable to believe what has being explicitly told to him. This confrontation is the tipping point for further development in one direction or another. His choice now is to continue to ignore it and lose Stolas entirely or to try and work through it in some way. By implying Stolas is the one who created thier current situation way back in S1 implies Blitz’s ignorance of Stolas’s feelings is not because of character’s motivations and his own choices to ignore it but simply because it was that way at the start and it is immutable. Stolas said “sex for book please” and “jelly sandwiches” and Blitz was just “I’m just doing what he said he wanted, now he’s coming out of nowhere with this feelings stuff” when a huge part of showing the audience that it is Blitz’s self loathing driving the conflicts in his life is that he refuses to believe the truth of the situation which is it wasn’t Stolas making it all about sex at all. That Stolas has been trying and Blitz keeps shutting it down because of his issues.

That just seems like a crucial part of what we’re doing here? Yes Stolas creates the situation in S1 but he went out of his way to do the opposite in S2.

Obviously this individual’s qualifications for interpretation, being an actual employee, trump my “I’ve watched it a bunch and obsess over it constantly” credentials by a long shot. But my concern is to have a meeting of people responsible for creating the show reflect this sentiment after what we’ve seen in S2 so far is just a little baffling to me?

Either those attempts by Stolas portrayed on screen and the change in his behavior towards Blitz after he realizes his feelings are meaningless in the face of first impressions being everything to both Blitz and the audience. If that is the case I’m not sure why they would be included if the end result interpretation is still “Stolas horny. Made it all about sex. The end.”

Or, I am misreading something, either the tweet itself or the canon text. This is very possible, tweets being an imperfect communication tool and myself being an imperfect person. But as I stated in the original post, if we’re accounting for what is shown on screen as being how we should interpret the characters, Stolas has been trying for months to shift gears and Blitz is the one who continues to frame it as “just sex”. So I just find the tweet completely out of touch with the narrative we’re consuming.

#stolitz #long post #helluva boss

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thinking1bee · 4 months

Text

You Haven't Failed Part 6

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover @ara-a-bird

“So,” Nick began as he laced his fingers together on his desk. “I saw the news.”

He reached under to grab his bottle of tequila and a shot glass. You winced as you watched him pour a shot. Normally, when he drank, it was for something funny because one of you did something stupid, but you couldn’t call this a funny moment. He topped the glass off and put the bottle down, but to your surprise, he moved the shot glass towards you.

“Are you okay?”

His gaze was kind, the brown in his eye softening as he regarded you with care. Your suit was ruined beyond repair, and it had to be disposed of, so as you sat in Nick’s office, you wore a shirt and a pair of jeans. You gladly took the shot and downed it. The alcohol settled heavily in your empty stomach, and you let the burn occupy your mind instead of the nightmarish thoughts that haunted you since last night.

Nick refilled the shot glass and drank one himself. You took a deep breath and rubbed your cheek.

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

He nodded as he shuffled some paperwork on his desk. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? I’ve taken care of everything on this end. Take the next few days off if you need it. I gave the same proposition to Wanda. Spend time with each other.”

You nodded. You should be grateful to have this time with your girlfriend, but the beginnings of apathy were starting to replace everything else.

“Is Peter here?”

Nick nodded. “He should be in the gym.”

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile as you stood up.

You were almost out of the door when Nick stopped you.

“If you need to talk,” he began. “About anything, my door is always open. I don’t care if it’s about the weather. You’re welcomed in here.”

You nodded, offering him a weak smile, and headed towards the gym. Peter was inside, doing an insane sprinting circuit on the treadmill. When he heard you enter, he took off his headphones and gave you a smile.

“Y/n, hey!”

He easily jumped off the treadmill even as the belt still moved at a rapid speed. He jogged to you and used his shirt to wipe sweat off his head.

“How are you-?”

You wrapped your arms around him and crushed him into a hug. Peter wasn’t able to finish his sentence as he froze against you. You owed him. You owed everything to him. If he wasn’t there, you would have made an irreparable choice.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “Thank you for stopping me.”

He hugged you back, his arms encircling your entire being as he pulled you closer. You didn’t care that he was sweaty. Peter had to know just how much he saved your life.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. His hug tightened. “You’re going to be okay.”

After, you paid a visit to Tony.

“Hey, Stark,” you greeted when you entered his lab.

“Hey, what’s up?”

He was in the middle of repairing something, so when you walked in, he was wearing a mask while wielding a blow torch. Once he heard your voice, he stopped what he was doing and lifted the mask from his head.

“Would you be willing to make me a new suit?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” you echoed incredulously. As many times as Peter and Tony hounded you to come to the latter to get a suit, you were surprised to hear his answer. It was his prerogative, but it was still very unexpected. He immediately cracked a smile.

“I’m just bullshitting you,” he chuckled. “Of course. I thought Petey and I were going to have to beg you.”

You laughed, his personality a welcome reprieve in your day.

“Was there something specific that you wanted?”

“Well, I was hoping to get something akin to the Iron Spider.”

Tony practically squealed and rubbed his hands together. “That is some of my best work, and I’ve been working on more upgrades. I’ll need your phone though.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Tony, I don’t want any nudes or dick pics in my photos.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “You can’t handle any of this.”

You watched, in horror, as he dragged his hands down his body in an attempt to be erotic. You dry heaved, your hand covering your mouth as you turned away.

“Oh, god. Pepper has the patience of a saint.”

Tony cackled and you watched as he uploaded blueprints to a hologram. He interacted with it, adding and trashing things as he went.

“Also, can we keep the suit low key?” you asked him.

“Low key? What does that even mean?”

“You have a habit of making things overly...ostentatious.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand clutching at his chest. “Et tu, Brute?”

You laughed. He must have heard this before, then. “The Iron Spider is great, Tony. Truly. But blue, red, and gold?”

“It’s called having taste, kid.”

You smirked. “We all can’t be rich assholes.”

Tony sat in his seat to begin working, but when he heard you, he spun around and pointed at you.

“Touché.”

You laughed and left him to his toys. The next few days were spent with Wanda. An air of domesticity filled your home. You spent the days cooking and cleaning with her. You shared kisses with her, watched movies with her, and played games with the team when they had the time. At one point you were on the couch, and Wanda was in your arms as she cuddled into you. Today was the day for the press conference, and though Wanda reassured you multiple times that you didn’t need to watch it, you told her that you did. You needed to know how the world perceived you now. Were you a friend or a foe? You watched Nick as he regarded the city. Flashing cameras highlighted his face as he spoke regally.

“After conducting a thorough investigation, we have decided that the Avenger involved in the incident a few weeks ago had a right to self-defense. They were fatally stabbed, and the pain and blood loss temporarily blinded them to their rage. We have noted the incident and taken care of the prisoner and his family.”

Reporters clamored around the podium, and they all raised their hands to get Nick’s attention. He pointed at someone as he began to take questions.

“How can you claim self-defense when that prisoner wasn’t armed? From the looks of the video, he’d already surrendered.”

Nick stared at him blankly. “He was armed. He had a machete in his hand. Besides, have you ever been stabbed?”

“No?”

“Okay, go get stabbed and let’s see how you react. Next, please.”

He pointed to another reporter.

“Isn’t there a power dynamic between Spidey and the prisoner that we’re ignoring here? Someone with powers just tried to kill a regular person who did not have any powers. Therefore, he did not have the means to defend himself.”

“Why are we ignoring the simple fact that up until that moment, Spidey hadn’t done anything wrong. That prisoner could just as easily surrendered before stabbing them,” Nick countered. “Why are we not talking about that? He decided to put another person’s life on the line to avoid going back to prison. He tried to kill them. The intent was clear and yet I’ve heard nothing about his actions so far. The Avengers are people too, with hopes and dreams and everything in between. They happen to be people who come with extra baggage. Every single one of them have lives and people who love them.”

“Well, they know that sacrifice comes with the job, correct?”

Nick stared at him for a second, incredulousness radiating from him as he absorbed the question. Then, he laughed humorlessly.

“Oh? So, should they lay down and die for you?” he asked him. The reporter went to respond, but Nick kept talking. “Are the Avengers your personal doormat now? Every time they wear their suits, should they not think about the lives they’ve put on hold to save your sorry asses?”

“T-That’s not what I was trying to insinuate.” The reporter’s eyes were wide, his cheeks red from the embarrassment of having Nick hammer him with questions.

“Oh, I think it is,” Nick said with a dry chuckle. “You want to talk sacrifice? Do you know how many Avengers put their lives on the line to defeat Thanos? Do you know the hell they went through to ensure that the population he dusted was brought back?”

Nick got louder and louder as he talked. Passion bled into his voice as he held eye contact with the crowd.

“I’m not saying that what Spidey did was morally justifiable, but the Avengers are not saints that are sworn to uphold an impossible ethical code. They know what the job entails and the values that they need to embody. The prisoner attacked Spidey, and Spidey defended themselves. That’s it. Was excessive force used? I’ll leave that up to the experts. That’s not my job nor do I care, but if that person had stabbed me, I personally would have put a bullet between his eyes. Let’s thank god I’m not out on the field.”

Nick faced the reporter as he said his next words.

“The Avengers are not droids. They are human beings with exceptional gifts who do what they do because they want to protect their home and the people who live in it. As human beings, they are susceptible to every human emotion on the spectrum, including, getting a little angry every now and then. Now sure, we can sit here and argue, and split some hairs, to point out that not everyone in the Avengers Initiative is human. That does not mean that they should be treated any differently. For you to say what you said lets me know that you have a certain level of audacity that many others may share with you. So, I will speak for our heros, and I will tell you right now that they are not here to clean up petty messes. What happened a few days ago, only happened because protocol was not being followed.”

The crowd murmured.

“Oh, yes, I looked it up. If someone had done their job correctly, this wouldn’t have happened. The Spiders chose to help. They were not ordered to. They aren’t here at your beck and call to stand by your side and do everything you want them to do with the snap of your fingers. They’re here to save the world, which they have done again, and again, and again.”

Nick stood up straight and clenched his jaw. “No more questions.”

Both you and Wanda were shocked speechless. To see him defend you so vehemently...tears were already gathering in your eyes.

“Wow,” Wanda breathed. “I didn’t know Nick cared about us like that.”

That was fair. He isn’t a very open individual, but you didn’t answer. You held Wanda closer to you and rested your cheek on the top of her head. She held your hand in hers, and you let yourself think about Nick’s words.

Part 7

#ladies of marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem!reader #spidey!reader #venom!reader #graphic depictions of injuries #graphic depictions of violence #angst #so much angst #fluff #smut #violence #blood #feelings #lgbtqia

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dianneking · 1 year

Text

The Set-Up - Miranda/Reader (Top of the Lake: China Girl)

Crossposted on AO3 - if you prefer to read it there, follow this link!

Summary: Reader is crushing hard on Miranda, and yet somehow ends up on a date with Robin organized by none other than Miranda herself. Light angst, mostly Miranda being a hot mess tbh.

Tags: Mutual pining, jealousy, fake relationship, spying on people, Miranda being a clueless hot mess (as per canon), lil’ bit of angst, matchmaker!Robin, height difference, smoking, present tense, second person pov, ungendered reader. Words: 3767

The Set-Up

You watch as Miranda enthusiastically waves goodbye at Detective Griffin before coming to lean against the wall by your side. Wordlessly you offer her a cigarette out of your pack, and she accepts with a muttered Thank you, sticking it immediately between her lips and lighting it up. Maybe it’s because you are somewhat more tired, maybe it’s because today she looks particularly happy and it tugs at something deep within you, but today’s the day where you throw caution to the wind and ask her what you have been ruminating on for quite some time.

"So, what's the deal with you and Griffin, huh?"

"We're on another case together. It's a good one."

"Only that?"

"What else?"

"Come on, Hilmarson, are you really going to make me ask?"

"I... I don't understand what you mean."

"You two seem pretty close, that is all."

"We sorted out our differences."

"Isn't that just great?"

"What's wrong with you today? You are being more waspish than usual. Didn’t take enough smoke breaks?"

"Don’t try to change the subject. Are congratulations in order? Are you two an item now?"

"What? No!"

"...if you say so."

"We really aren't! She's like my sister or something. Is that what was pissing you off?"

"Of course not! Why would I care if you and Griffin were hitting it off?"

"Oh my god, it is. You are jealous."

"No I'm not"

"You so are!"

"Am not"

"Are too!"

"Piss off!"

You shove her playfully, but doing so makes you painfully aware of your height difference, and you feel suddenly very small and nervous. If your crush for Miranda is so evident that even herself can call you out on it, you are worse off than you thought you were.

You try to sneak a glance up at her, and you see her beautiful face corrugated in a frown, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Has she already figured out everything? Maybe you should consider making a tactical retreat before you dig yourself too deep into a hole. But at the same time, you are not willing to give up any time the two of you spend together.

Damn. She's so out of your league it's not even funny, you think, watching how the warm glow of the afternoon sun shines through her blonde eyelashes. You should probably have been more careful in letting your feelings known, you think as the silence stretches on uncomfortably. Now there's going to be that embarrassed little dance of her trying to let you down and you telling her that it's okay (it's not), you understand (you do), and that you hope you two can still be friends (you really, really do). You are not ready to give up your smoke breaks spent together, all the laughter, the jokes, the heart to heart talks. Miranda is the brightest part of your day, and you'll be damned if you'll do anything to hurt your friendship.

"Hey I... I think you might have a chance, you know?"

"What?" You barely manage to choke out. Is she…

"Yeah, Robin is single you know. And you are witty and smart like her, you two would get on like a house on fire."

Oh no.

The implications of that sentence hit you like a cold shower. Is she really that clueless or is it some sort of joke? She's not the person to purposefully try to hurt you by mocking your crush, you know her well enough for that. You know she means well, and yet your heart sinks as surely as a rock in cold water. She's totally misunderstood, but that in itself is an answer.

"Miranda, that's not..."

"You know what? I can set you two up for a date!" She whips her phone out before you can try to get in a word, her tongue peeking out of her lips in a show of concentration as she types away. You try your best not to stare at her mouth as she does so, but you are entranced. So much so that you miss your only occasion to stop her.

"There you go!" she announces with a satisfied smile as the phone pings with Griffin's answer "She says she's up for grabbing lunch with you at Tony's tomorrow if you pay for it."

You try to swallow your disappointment, but it stays as a bitter knot in your throat. She might not be dating her detective partner, but she for sure isn't interested in you, if she's so quick to try set you up with her. She looks down at you, with so much excitement shining on her face that for a moment you get lost in those sparkling blue eyes. She's so gorgeous, and sunny, and kind. You really cannot be blamed for falling for her. It's just your usual rotten luck that she only sees you as a friend. So much so as to play matchmaker for you.

And you are so desperately in love with her that you cannot bring yourself to burst her bubble, to be the reason that her infectious smile drops from her lips, and so you don’t say anything. You don’t tell her that when the two of them storm through the station on their way to another case, or when they lean together, their heads close as they look at the computer screen together, it is not Griffin that you can’t take your eyes off from.

"So, what do you say?"

"Uhm…sure, I guess…"

“But of course, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it? You go get your girl!”

You shrug, trying to squash down the hurt that the word friend carries. You might as well go to this lunch with Griffin, hopefully you might be able to pull out of her whether Miranda is seeing someone else. Not that that would change much, would it? You should start trying to resign yourself to the fact that you really have no chance with her.

Also, Miranda looks positively giddy with excitement at having set the two of you up. Not when she has so resolutely stated that she only thinks of you as a friend. You are not going to make a fool of yourself confessing feelings that won’t be welcome and would only make your interactions awkward. Grabbing a bite with Griffin is for sure the lesser embarrassment of the two. Or at least the least damaging for your friendship. Because even if you can't have Miranda as your girlfriend, you are going to fight tooth and nail not to lose her as a friend.

You only hope that Griffin won't be an arse about it.

“Why are we even here? Didn't you have a huge crush on Miranda?”

Obviously, it had been too much to ask for.

“...”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So why let her set you up with me?”

“If you knew that already, why did you agree to this date?”

“I wanted some free lunch.”

“Oh wow. Way to make someone feel appreciated, Griffin.”

“And I was curious.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I wanted to see what she sees in you.”

“Nothing much, probably, if she tried to peddle me to you at the first chance she got.”

You try to keep the bitterness out of your tone, but you still bite viciously into your sourdough sandwich, and you can hear Griffin scoff.

“Oh please, it's obvious that she's pining for you just as much as you are for her.” You can feel yourself burning with embarrassment. Still better than the alternative, you remind yourself. It's just a lunch.

“I might even believe you if she hadn’t just put me firmly in the friendzone, so please, Griffin, can you drop this and just enjoy your free food?"

Miranda tries not to feel guilty as she peeks beyond the wall corner to watch her two colleagues through the window of the café. She just wants to see how the date goes, that's all. Since she's the one who made it possible and all of that, she feels somewhat responsible for it. Like a fairy godmother for your budding relationship. Her friend and her work partner hitting it off…that has to be a good match, right?

Everybody agrees that Robin is the absolute best detective in the station. And you...well, you deserve nothing but the best. And if you two work it out, she won't have to share her free time between the two of you, right? The three of you will be able to hang out together all the time, and all will be just grand. One big happy family.

She can see the two of you in conversation, and cannot help the nervous tapping of her fingers on the wall she's hiding behind. She can see you shrug, an embarrassed grimace on your face. She can see how red your ears have turned - she can't get over how cute you are when you blush. For all of your tough talk, she thinks affectionately, you really are just a big softie. Have you already told Robin of your crush for her?

What will her reaction be?

Maybe Robin will reject you, and of course Miranda will be there to help you through your heartbreak, to comfort you as you had done for her when her affair – it’s a relationship, babe – with Adrian had crumbled like a sandcastle built too close to the ocean. Because that’s what friends do for each other, right? And Miranda is very happy to be your friend.

She absolutely is.

Really.

It's just that…

It's just that sometimes she allows her mind to run free, and she finds herself wondering how it would feel for once to hold your hand as you lean against the wall outside the station side by side, how your hair would feel if she buried her hands in it, how your lips would taste if she were to… No. She really shouldn’t. You're her friend, and she's pretty sure normal people don’t think about kissing their friend.

Unless they have romantic feelings for their friend. And she surely doesn't. Does she?

…

Fuck.

She totally has romantic feelings for you.

How hasn't she noticed? How long has she been feeling this way towards you and mistaking it for friendship? Suddenly she feels like bashing her head against the rough brick wall. How could she have been so dumb? She has even helped to set you up with Robin! Wow, good job, Hilmarson. Great. Couldn't she have realised it like two days ago? Even for her standards - she's the first to admit that she has messed up multiple times in her life - that's one major cock-up.

“See? She's totally into you as well, she's even spying on our date.”

“That might just be because she is curious. If she wanted me, why would she try to set me up with you? Come on, Griffin, you must be smarter than this. Aren't you supposed to be the best detective in Australia or something?”

“Ha-ha, such a flatterer. Look, I know what I’m seeing. And lucky for you, I’ve got an idea.”

“Lord help us all.”

“What if I pretended to go along with it?”

“Griffin, I am flattered, but I thought we had already been over how I'm not interested in you.”

“That's why I said pretended, genius. She’ll see us together, get jealous and realize her feelings for you.”

“She won't. You might be a decent detective, but you suck at relationship advice. Oi! Remove your hand from mine, this is ridiculous.”

She shouldn't still be here, Miranda thinks, and yet she can't seem to be able to rip her eyes away from the way Robin has grasped your hand above the coffee table, her face opening in a lopsided smile.

This isn't fun anymore. Not since she's realised how badly she has fucked up in helping you two out. Miranda swallows, her eyes never leaving Robin as she slides out of her side of the booth and moves to sit beside you. She's never seen that sort of playful grin on Robin's face, unless she was totally hammered, and to see it when she's sober, and on a date with you of all people… Robin wants you too, doesn't she?

Well, of course she does. I mean, look at you, you are lively, smart, funny, attractive, and Robin might be many things, but she for sure isn’t blind or stupid. She has to know how much of a catch you are.

Miranda can only watch helplessly as Robin - the same Robin who refuses all sort of affectionate contact, struggling to even hug her own daughter - is leaning into you, nuzzling your neck, and whispering something in your ear. You jolt up as if electrocuted, and turn towards her, shock clear on your face. What has she said to you? Miranda feels like she's going insane, stuck on the outside looking in.

And then Robin chooses that moment to plant a kiss square on your lips.

Miranda turns tail and flees.

“What the fuck, Griffin?”

“It's gonna work, trust me. I know Miranda.”

Miranda leans against the wall next to the station, in what over the years she has come to think of as your spot. If she closes her eyes, she can almost fool herself into thinking you’re by her side, as you always are, cigarette dangling from your lips, always ready with a sarcastic quip, or a funny retort. Except you're not there. You're still on your stupid happy date, that she had pushed you into, like the moron she is.

She's been chainsmoking since she came back from spying on you, and the longer it takes for you to come back, the more harshly she pulls in the smoke between her teeth, trying to lessen her stress. Trying not to picture what you and Robin could be doing that's taking the both of you so damn long.

She tries to ignore the painful constriction of her heart at what her traitorous mind conjures up. The mere thought of Robin's small hands safely ensconced in your bigger ones, of her mouth exploring yours as Miranda had been dreaming of doing even before she recognized her feelings for you, of the two of you hugging or worse, makes her want to scream at the top of her lungs and hit something.

But she can't.

You're her friend, she should want you to be happy, shouldn't she? And if that means stepping aside and supporting you in your relationship with Robin, of course she'll do just that. Because Robin is the one you're interested in and there's nobody on earth Miranda can think is more different from her than Detective Griffin. Robin simply is everything Miranda has never been: petite, professional, smart, careful and precise. It's no wonder you like her and not big, clumsy, helpless Miranda.

Miranda, who's a terrible friend and cannot even support you wholeheartedly in your new budding relationship.

Miranda shakes her head, dropping the butt of her cigarette to the ground and moodily stepping on it. She should be happy for you, should be grateful to be allowed to be your friend, it's not like she has a whole lot of those anyways. The sooner she starts to accept the fact that there's no hope for anything more between you two, the better it'll be for her poor heart.

She just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

But what's taking you so long? Is that how it's going to be from now on? You and Robin, so wrapped in each other that you forget about Miranda, leaving her alone once again, cast aside, begging for scraps of affection from her friends?

She can feel the tears filling her eyes at the mere thought.

"You're back! How…how did it go?"

Miranda’s smile is too big, her eyes too watery for it to be sincere. For the first time you allow yourself to hope against all hopes that maybe, maybe Robin has a point.

But maybe you are just seeing what you want to see.

“Are you alright, Miranda?" Her laugh is high, nervous and ends up in a sort of hiccup as she clumsily claps you on the shoulder, rocking you with the strength of the impact.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be, there’s a new, blooming romance in the station! And between my best friend and my partner, to boot! Isn't that just grand? Are you gonna tell all the others about it, or should I tell them and save you the pain?”

Her happy-go-lucky voice is so fake it twists your heart and almost makes you miss what she has said.

“Nonono, there will be no telling anything to the others!”

The last thing you need is for the whole fucking station to think you and Griffin are an item. You wouldn’t hear the end of it. It’s already bad that Miranda thinks that. And hopefully you can somehow clear that up.

“Is that something Robin asked you? Does she want to keep you as her dirty little secret? You shouldn’t settle for that! You deserve more!” She gesticulates wildly at this, her hands cutting the air with agitated gestures, as she defends your honor against imaginary slights.

“That’s not it, Miranda. It’s just-“ But she cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“You shouldn't hide your feelings! You two are totally made for each other. Go be unapologetically together!”

"Why are you so adamant in pushing us together?" You finally snap, irritatedly. She's not making any sort of sense. She's trying so hard to get the two of you together even if it's obvious that she's not happy in the least about it. And even though you are starting to think more and more that this might all be a huge misunderstanding, it cuts to hear the woman you love trying so hard to set you up with someone else. What if Robin wasn’t right? What if Miranda really only saw you as a friend and nothing more?

"What do you mean? Didn't the date go well? You sure looked like you were hitting it off pretty well, and you took your sweet time, too." She mutters the second part softly, as if it has come out of her mouth without her really wanting to, then promptly blushes a deep red.

You always found her adorable when she blushed.

"Miranda, I need to know it, why were you spying on us?"

"Oh god, you saw me? I… Uhm I…I just happened to drop by Tony's, I had totally forgotten that the two of you were there. So I uhm hid, because I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you. Hehe, that’s all."

"Is… Is it possible that you might like me?" You throw all caution to the wind because really, at this point you need a clear answer.

"No!" She answers too quickly "Of course not! You are my friend. I like you as a friend!" Hope stirs once again, but you don't dare to believe it quite yet. Not while she keeps denying everything.

"Miranda, you are many good things, but you are a terrible liar."

She suddenly rights herself from where she was leaning against the wall and makes as if to move towards the station.

"Well, I…I need to go. I just realized that my lunchbreak was over like five minutes ago and I-"

You stop her, a hand on her wrist, and a pleading tone to your voice.

"No, please. Stay. I…"

She stops, but she stays with her back to you. When she speaks, her voice wavers ever so slightly.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, I know what you want to say.”

“You…do? ‘Cause it seems to me that this is all a huge misunderstanding.”

“Of course. A misunderstanding. Sure, that’s one way to put it. Just another big clumsy mess, made by big clumsy Miranda. I guess we’re used to it by now, aren’t we?”

She turns now, and you are shocked to see tears streaking down her face.

“That’s not what-“

“It's OK,” she interrupts you once again, angrily wiping the wetness off her face as she looks at you with a solemn, sad look into those beautiful big blue eyes of hers, “I know that you like Robin, I would never do anything to ruin your chance with her. You really make a perfect couple, I am serious about it. I just need a little time to adjust.” Her voice is picking up speed, as if it's impossible to stop now that she's started, “I am so grateful to have you as a friend, it's not like I expected you to return my feelings. Hell, I didn't recognise them for what they are until I saw the two of you together. And I would never let something like that ruin our friendship. Everything can stay perfectly the same, even if you are with Robin and…and I know I am a terrible friend that has fallen for you after setting you up with your crush but I want you to be happy and please don't hate me."

You blink under the onslaught of words she's unleashed on you, and when she abruptly stops, all that can be heard in the small alley to the side of the station is her heavy breathing, as if she had just run a marathon. Her shoulders are shaking and you can't see her face, dipped as it is into her collarbone in shame.

Your heart breaks at seeing her like this, at the sheer thought that Miranda could believe even for one second that you hate her.

You stand right in front of her, cradling her red, downturned face in your hands, tilting it ever so slightly up from where it was staring at the pavement, so you can once again look directly into her beautiful blue eyes, now swimming with tears and swirling emotions.

She's such a mess, you think affectionately. But she's a lovely mess with the biggest of hearts, and you wouldn’t want her any other way.

"Miranda, I could never ever hate you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I… I think I love you."

"As…as a friend?"

"No, dearest, no, not as a friend."

And you hope there's no mistaking your intentions now as you press your lips to hers in a kiss that the both of you have been daydreaming about for way too long to admit.

Liked it? You can find more of my fanfiction on my masterlist!

#miranda hilmarson fanfiction #miranda hilmarson/reader #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda (top of the lake)#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson/you #miranda hilmarson x you #gwendoline christie characters #gwendoline christie fanfiction #miranda x reader #top of the lake: china girl #tol #dianneking fanfiction #dianneking writes #dragonmist fanfiction #crossposted on ao3 #angst fairy collection #top of the lake china girl fanfiction #top of the lake fanfiction

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