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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months ago

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The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 6

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky doesn’t understand what the heck just happened.

When he carried her into the house, the smell of lemongrass gave him nostalgia.

He gently put your grandma down on her bed. Then he went to the living room. You followed him after putting the blanket on Cassandra.

You found him standing near the air humidifier.

“This smell...” Bucky murmured, taking in the scent.

“Was the smell too strong? It's to calm my grandma's cough,” you explained, watching his reaction.

He shook his head slightly, still looking puzzled. “No, it’s not that. It’s just... familiar.”

You tilted your head, trying to understand. “Seriously, why didn’t you have an episode when you held my grandma?”

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “I still don’t understand it.” His eyes wandered to the photos on the wall, lingering on one where a younger you stood next to your grandma. You wore a plaid skirt, and the scarf around Cassandra’s neck seemed oddly familiar.

“Ugh,” he groaned suddenly, clutching his head as a sharp pain struck. He stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side.

He crouched down, falling to his knees as he was overwhelmed by a flashback. The disgusting laugh of the day he was kidnapped echoed in his mind.

“HAHAHAHA! We will be rich,” one of the kidnappers had said. Bucky clenched his teeth, the memory resurfacing with brutal clarity.

He hated this memory. He had tried so hard to lock it away.

“Oh my god, why is there a kid—? Are you okay?” A woman's voice and her silhouette appeared in his mind.

That voice. Her voice sounded familiar.

“Bucky!” You shook his shoulders, desperate to bring him back to the present.

Bucky snapped out of his nightmare, gasping for breath. His eyes were teary and red as he looked at you with a mix of fear and confusion.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern. You gently touched his arm, grounding him.

Bucky got up abruptly. “Sorry, but I have to go.”

“Wait,” you called out, reaching for him.

But he was already moving swiftly, his long strides taking him out the door and into his car. The engine roared to life, and the car sped off down the street.

You stood there, watching the taillights disappear into the night, a mix of worry and frustration knotting in your stomach. You could only hope he drove safely.

While driving, his headache eased after he left your place. But something had triggered his memory. What triggered it?

Was it because of you?

💋💋💋💋💋

He returned to his apartment, his mind racing with questions. That night, he had the same nightmare again. But tonight was different. Alongside the voice of his kidnapper, he could hear another voice.

He woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.

The next morning, when Javier arrived at his clinic, he saw Bucky in the basement parking lot, just getting out of his car with a pale face.

“Bucky, you look terrible. What happened?” Javier asked, concern etched on his face.

Bucky, leaning heavily against the car, ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I had the nightmare again, but this time there was another voice. It felt...familiar.”

Javier looked at Bucky with surprise. “You got another episode?”

Bucky nodded, his face set with determination. “I want to remember everything.”

Javier was taken aback. As Bucky's psychiatrist from the start, he had always tried to help Bucky forget the traumatic events. This was a significant change.

“Alright, let’s get you relaxed and start the hypnosis session,” Javier said, guiding Bucky into his office.

Bucky lay down on the comfortable recliner, closing his eyes. Javier dimmed the lights, creating a calming atmosphere. He began speaking in a low, soothing voice.

“Bucky, I want you to take a deep breath. Inhale slowly...and exhale. Let all your tension melt away. You are in a safe place. As you listen to my voice, feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into relaxation.”

Bucky's breathing slowed, and his body relaxed. Javier continued, “Now, I want you to imagine a staircase. With each step you take, you’ll go deeper into your memories. Ten steps down, each one taking you closer to the memory you seek. Ten...nine...eight...”

Bucky's mind drifted back. He felt himself being pulled into the past, into a dark and cold place. The air was thick with dampness, and the sound of water dripping echoed around him. He could see nothing but shadows.

Then, suddenly, he saw a door open. Light streamed in, and he ran towards it with every ounce of strength. His heart pounded, his breath ragged, but he didn’t stop. He ran as far as he could from the kidnappers.

Flashback Starts

The sky was already dark, and he was hungry and thirsty.

He ran away from the abandoned factory where the kidnappers were hiding. Bucky was able to escape when one of them didn't check the locked door.

Not wanting to miss the chance, he ran as fast as possible.

After running for a while his legs felt weak, but he kept going. Across a lake, he saw a small house with lights on.

He hoped someone was inside, but his legs had given out. He stumbled and fell to the ground, his eyes growing heavy.

He thought this was his last lifeline until he heard a voice.

“Oh my God. Why is there a kid here? Are you okay?” The woman’s voice echoed in his mind.

In his memory, he barely opened his eyes, but one particular thing that caught his eye was the woman wearing a patterned blue silk scarf. He felt his body being held by someone. The way he was held was different from the person who kidnapped him.

He felt protected.

Younger Bucky felt his back rest against something soft. He didn't realize how much he missed the comfort of a bed until, because of the kidnapping, he found himself resting on a cold floor.

His body felt warm, and the aroma of the place was different from before. No more smell of tobacco. Instead, it was the scent of eucalyptus and lemongrass.

He heard someone calling, though the name was unclear. He caught snippets of the conversation.

“Could you watch over him? I'm going to call the police,” said the first voice, concerned.

“Okay. But... is he alright?” the second voice asked, sounding younger.

“I don't think so,” the adult woman replied, her tone worried.

Bucky’s mind struggled to piece together the fragments of memory. The warmth, the scents, and the voices mingled in a haze as he drifted between consciousness and sleep.

He felt something gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. “You're safe. My grandma will call the police.”

Bucky exhaled. He struggled to lift his hand, then he felt the one who accompanied him hold it. Her hand felt soft and warm. He murmured, “Thank you.”

He slowly opened his eyes to see the person near him. The silhouette began to clear.

It was you. A younger you. And the older woman who carried him is your grandma.

Flashback End

Bucky woke up from his hypnotized state, breathing heavily. He looked at Javier, his eyes wide with realization. “I remembered,” he said, his voice trembling with the intensity of the memories flooding back.

🍷🍷🍷🍷

At the anniversary party of Celestial Enterprise, the atmosphere buzzed with opulence and excitement. The grand ballroom of the luxury hotel was adorned with crystal chandeliers casting sparkling light across the room.

Tables draped in deep blue silk tablecloths and gold accents were laden with exquisite white roses and lilies floral arrangements. Soft jazz music played in the background, adding a touch of elegance to the evening.

Guests mingled, holding glasses of champagne and exchanging pleasantries. Many were long-time associates, loyal clients, and esteemed partners of Celestial Enterprise, celebrating its 60th year in business. The air was filled with the hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

Victoria, radiant in a shimmering silver gown that hugged her figure, was undeniably the star of the evening. Her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, and her makeup was flawless, highlighting her striking features. She moved gracefully through the crowd, accepting congratulations and compliments with a practiced smile.

Her friends, a group of equally well-dressed socialites, surrounded her, their chatter blending with the general noise of the party.

One of her friends, a brunette in a sleek red dress, leaned in closer. “Victoria, darling, was the rumor true that you and Bucky...?” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Victoria shyly nodded her head.

“You’re so lucky. I’m so jealous,” one of her friends said, her voice tinged with envy.

Victoria put her pointed finger to her lips, leaning in conspiratorially. “But you have to keep it a secret,” she said, acting humble, though inwardly she was thrilled to see the jealousy in their eyes.

“You’ve secured your future with the most wanted bachelor.”

Victoria waved a hand dismissively, though she couldn’t hide her smirk. “You guys… stop it.”

“What about your older sister? She must be jealous,” one of the guests chimed in, joining the conversation.

Victoria flinched slightly at the mention of you, but she quickly recovered, taking a sip of her wine. She feigned a kind smile. “If she came home, our parents would introduce her to someone better.”

“Better than Bucky? Good luck!” They all burst into laughter.

“By the way, will he come to this party?” her friends asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Victoria’s smile wavered for a moment. “Probably. He told me he would be late,” she replied, taking another sip of her wine. In truth, Bucky hadn’t given any reply, and she felt a pang of anxiety at his absence.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, her friends continued to fawn over her, showering her with compliments and admiration. Victoria maintained her composed exterior, though her mind was racing, wondering why Bucky hadn’t responded and if he would show up.

She knew Bucky was a quiet person. "Challenging" was the perfect word to describe him. But she would be patient. She didn't want to be pushy and irritate him.

She resolved to act with patience, hoping Bucky would realize she was perfect for him.

“Ooh… it’s him,” one of the guests exclaimed, spotting someone entering the party.

Victoria’s eyes lit up as she saw Bucky arrive. She felt relief wash over her, grateful she wouldn’t have to make excuses for his absence.

With a beautiful smile, she moved to approach her fiancé. All she had to do was stand beside Bucky and bask in the envy of everyone around her.

But her excitement was short-lived when she saw Bucky holding hands with another woman.

Victoria’s grip on her wine glass tightened, the tension evident in her white knuckles. If anyone had been close enough, they might have noticed the glass starting to crack.

Beside Bucky walked another woman, her beauty undeniable as she glided gracefully in her elegant dress.

“Are you sure he’s engaged to Victoria?” another guest whispered, their words barely audible but still carrying across the room. The murmurs began to spread, and Victoria could feel anger rising.

The sight of Bucky holding hands with someone who wasn’t her, his fiancée, filled her with rage.

Of all the women in the world, why does it have to be you?

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

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@sapphirebarnes

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@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@evie-119

@mrsstuckyboo

@ghalouha

@iamasimpingh0e

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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dotster001 · 7 months ago

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i was gonna make this a comment but smthn told me this was gonna be long.

SORRY FOR THE LONG-NESS OF THIS ASK

BUT DOT- THINK ABOUT YAN DILF JADE.

who knows if his ex wife was murdered or not, oh well! 🤭 best not to dwell on it because it makes the twins sad :(

see? (🧍🏻🧍🏻)

…anyways

but here me out (this is me going coco bananas. full on psycho mode) maybe the first time he saw you was at a RANDOM party that a friend of yours hosted.

blah blah mutual friend of a friend and that long friend family tree stuff

but maybe you slithered away to the dog, or were tasked with helping a baby (more like someone threw the baby at you in order to dance)

or you’re with the other room for the children that the party provides (this is like a really rich friend. like mega mansion. crazy rich asians kinda thing)

but ugh he’s there with his dreadful beautiful wife and his wonderful children. and his wife is already leaving to grab a drink and he thinks their children shouldn’t get a glimpse at whatever tom-foolery parties like these will lead to.

so in they go! (maybe this was years ago when they’re toddlers)

but then he sees you swarmed with babies. the nanny took a break and left you in charge and you’re fighting back babies with one of those roll-pop lawn mowers-

ARGHHH ONE JUST SPAT ON THE END OF YOUR RENTAL DRESS DAMNIT.

jade is utterly beside himself with laughter, amusement, and everything of the sorts and creates flirty small talk. and oh?? what's this? his wonderful bundles of joy seem to have found a liking to you? how precious (they’re clawing and climbing you like a jungle gym) jade takes a note of that!

they don't even like their mother that much , simply tolerating her. but jade can tell that his kids got good taste!

he lowkey interviews reader (without them know oops!!) and while yes, their beauty was what drove his interest, second being their personality (you have to be attracted to someone to give them a chance!)

and the twins were the cherry on top!

and conveniently you say where you work (rookie mistake) while he tells you he’s a humble business man… don’t ask what for tho cause that’s a super family secret 🤭

but he's planning and scheming and charming his way into your life and he’s in it for the long run because eels are patient. it just sucks that jade is even more patient, like a saint if you would

^^accurate depiction of saint jade

^^and this is jade when he gets questioned for his wife’s uh oh 🤷🏻🤷🏻

maybe she drank too much at a party and fell over the side.

maybe there was a targeted hit meant for jade but they got the wrong one.

maybe a classic batman scenario but jade survived and is throughly traumatized (same with his kids, i mean look at them!!🧍🏻🧍🏻 they’re so torn up that it just breaks his heart😿)

but he’s making chance encounters rather… commonly. (he had reader stalked for a good few years as he was planning everything. just to make sure he likes them& they keep it interesting.)

just... some thoughts about dilf jade leech and his hell spawns hehe (when the trio visited your work they managed to leave your section alone... so it looks like you were in the eye of the hurricane)

im gonna read your other stuff about dilf jade now because AHHHH

Angry at my boss, so I decided to see if there was anything in my inbox to cheer me up. Woo hoo!

In reference to this

Cw: light Yan!, implied stalking, Jade's a freak but if you don't already know that then you aren't paying attention

I can only imagine that, after the party, since you interacted with so many kids and parents that night, they all kind of blurred together. And it's not until, after he visits your place of work, and you chat over text for a while, and you have a real date, then invites you back home for an after date drink, do you start to remember. And that's only because the twins are scamps and stayed up past their bedtimes, and they are staring at you with eyes you remember.

Obviously, you are gonna chalk it up to a coincidence. "Oh my god! You know so-and-so, right? I think I met you at a party a few years ago!" He laughs, and plays along, oh my god,.yeah what a really good coincidence.

Meanwhile, the twins share a look, because Dad has talked about you every day since Mom died, so they know he's lying. Hell, when you aren't here, they already call you mama/papa. But, they are their father's kids, so they are never going to say anything.

One date turns to two turns to three, turns to a year of dating. It's time to meet the family. You know Jade has a twin, but they've taken different paths in life.

So when Dilf Floyd Trudges up the driveway with his six adopted kids, four of whom are sprinting around the house and lawn and destroying Jade's home, two of whom are under Floyd's arms like suitcases, you're in for a culture shock.

When you first meet him, he seems incredibly grumpy. He's got salt and pepper stubble, the baggiest outfit, though you get the feeling it's designer, no matter how slouchy it is, his hair is slicked back, making the grey streaks look neat against his otherwise messy look.

He tosses the kids and yells at them to go play with their cousins, then he rudely shoves past you. Jade stops him with a hand on his shoulder that appears gentle, but if you had felt the full force of it, you'd have landed on your ass. He hissed at Floyd, through a smile, to greet his new fiance. There's a tense moment where they stare at each other, then Floyd storms over to you, and presses a ticklish kiss to your cheek, before muttering, "Welcome to the family," then storming to his room and locking himself in for the night.

The next day it's like he's a different person. He makes breakfast for you and excitedly asks you about yourself, wanting to know everything about his future sibling. Eventually he pours you a glass of what you know is Jade's most expensive wine, which he has been saving for a special occasion, and you finally get the courage to ask about the night before, and he laughs and says he was tired from the trip. Wrangling six kids on an airplane is exhausting, you know?

You decide to ask him about little Jade, and Floyd's stories of childhood charm you so much that you don't notice Jade's brooding presence.

Not that Floyd minds. Yeah, he got off to a rough start with you, but he gets why Jade likes you. And Jade only has two parentless kids, he has six. So his kids need you more than Jade's do, right?

Will the dad's eventually drag the kids into this fight? Absolutely. Those kids have Mafia parents, they have plenty of acting training. They will be pulling those heartstrings of yours 😊

#just some thoughts #fun with moots #yandere twisted wonderland #dilf jade leech #dilf floyd leech #jade leech x reader

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theballadofmars · 10 months ago

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RANKING MDZS CHARACTERS AS HOW MUCH I THINK THEY WOULD SURVIVE IN FNAF:

11. MO XUANYU: he dies during the first five minutes. Don't know how. He just does.

10. JIN ZIXUAN: he doesn't listen AT ALL to Phone Guy and just...doesn't do a thing? He probably thinks he's too rich to die.

9. JIANG CHENG: he dies the first night. Just, sorry. He wouldn't follow Phone Guy's instructions at all, or try at the beginning but then gets mad and fights the animatronics. Sorry jc you're not winning this one.

8. NIE MINGJUE: he's not fucking surviving more than 2 nights, I'm sorry. He doesn't know how anything works, he survives the first night by sheer stuborness, but gets out of luck on his second night. He dies fighting thought.

7. XIAO XINGCHENG: he actually gets to the second night, but his problem is that he tries to help the children to move on and, unlike lxc, he gets killed.

6. SON LANG: survives 4 nights, but gets bitten by an animatronic and dies from the injury. He's the only other character who makes it to night 4 this is so funny mdzs character's would be amazing at surviving or terrible.

5. WEI WUXIAN: he ALMOST survives, but he gets scooped in night 5. Idk how, because this is based in fnaf 1, but he gets scooped, 100% sure.

4. LAN WANGJI: is lwj. He doesn't involve himself in the drama like his brother, but is able to survive the 5 nights. Never comes back.

3. LAN XICHEN: weird position, because lxc doesn't look like he would be the best with computers, but he's a Lan. He's not only going to survive the 5 nights, he also saves the souls of the murder children, because he would try to talk to the animatronics and give them therapy sesions.

2. NIE HUAISANG: he actually suffers the first night, because he doesn't know what's going on. The second night tought? He already knows the cheats. He survives and as a plus makes a theory about the lore that it turns out to be true.

1. JIN GUANGYAO: listen, LISTEN. He not only survives the five nights, the extra night and the 20/20 mood. He's jgy. Being a night guard at Freddy's is actually a vacation for him. Animatronics aren't worse than rich people. He even gets bored at night 5.

HONORARY MENTIONS FOR CHARACTERS WHO DOESN'T GET TO BE IN THE RANKING BECAUSE THEY'RE A SPECIAL CASE:

-XUE YANG: this fucker messes with the animatronics ans disassembles them for fun. The animatronics are the ones hiding from him.

-THE FOUR JUNIORS + A-QING: they are the kids possesing the animatronics. Sorry juniors :(

-YANLI: befriends the animatronics somehow. She makes them soup :D

-MIAN MIAN: stays one night, survives, never comes back. They don't pay her enough for this bullshit.

-WANGXIAN: they fuck in the security office and the animatronics are traumatized.

-WEN QING: finds the bodies of the kids and reports it do the police

-WEN NING: look, I think he would get springlocked but wouldn't become a vengative animatronic (unless he's possesed). He's just there behind a wall.

-LAN QIRENG: survives because Lan power, but instead of doing his job as a security guard starts to reprimend the animatronics and tries to teach them THE RULES.

Tgcf characters ranking

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #lan xichen #jin guangyao #wen qing #wen ning #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #xue yang #mian mian #xiao xicheng #son lang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue

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birdiebirdjay · 1 month ago

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controversial opinions on characters? (specifically harry potter)

hi anon! thanks for the ask :)

hmmmm i have quite a few

i don't like luna lovegood. i think she's very irritating as a person and i would absolutely go batshit if i had to interact with her in real life. she is the wizard equivalent of a flat earther and an anti vaxxer, not a spiritual guide. hermione wasn't narrow minded for doubting her and xeno, they were the narrow minded ones for never questioning their beliefs despite the MOUNTAINS of evidence against them. rahhh she makes me so angry. (i hate that i have to specify, but this isn't misogynistic, i would feel the same if she was a guy.)

lucius malfoy is a relatively harmless guy, he's just slippery. he gives me such peacock vibes. he just wants to show off and look rich and not be questioned. (also he def dotes on narcissa and draco which is adorable to explore in fics <3 i think he would be an amazing father to a little girl and would have loved a daughter which i like exploring in my fics, but that's just a headcanon)

draco is the same way, i feel. iirc he's usually too scared to start shit unless crabbe and goyle are there, he just makes me laugh tbh. of course he does do and say some shitty things but i am just. unable to take him seriously. this may be because i haven't thought about his character in a while, but as of right now, i don't really see him as evil OR a sympathetic little boy. he's just. a little dude. (he is more dangerous than his father though, i'll give him that.) i mean if marauders stans are allowed to glorify james potter and put him on a pedestal, i'm allowed to have this.

percy weasley! i love percy so much, i think this is an uncommon opinion but i don't really know. i think he's amazing, i've already talked about him a lot on my blog so ye :)

i think the weasley family is dysfunctional asf. i don't think i personally can explain it, but this post by @/arkadijxpancakes does a great job of comprehensively analyzing their history and dynamics as well as showing why each weasley is the way they are. super good read!

albus dumbledore: i don't know why this is controversial but i actually think he was a good character, all things considered. yes, he did some bad things, but they were to help save the wizarding world in the end. he set it all up.

severus snape: i think he's awesome, deserved WAY better, and was a traumatized character who is severely overhated. please don't try to fight me on this, you'll just give me a headache.

lily evans: this is a very new opinion of mine but... i don't think she was a great person. i used to wonder 'how could james potter, a shitty little twit twat, end up with such a wonderful and kind and amazing person?' but i've come to realize, she's really not those things. she was kind of a shit friend from what we know. i still think she's very interesting, but not necessarily a good person.

harry potter!! i want to include him because i think that quite frankly he is an awesome little dude but is super underrated and borderline disliked by a big part of the fandom. though i personally feel like he could have been written better in some ways, i still love him tons and i think he deserves more appreciation <33 (also i adore the idea of an oddly specific au where percy and oliver team up to take care of lil tiny first year harry)

neville longbottom: this may be the most controversial one yet but i just don't feel the hype. i feel like he was largely unimportant in the first six books besides as a side character (but it's been a while since i read most of them, so correct me if i'm wrong) and yeah he was cool in the seventh, but like... i still don't feel it. he was pretty boring imo. i think i logically understand why he's loved, but i don't personally relate :/

(canon) james potter: hate him. -100000000/10. he can go die. (OH WAIT HE ALREADY DID!) i'm sorry, i just cannot like him. fanon james is awesome and super cute and lovable, but fanon james is a whole different person than canon james. if we compare young severus to harry, james is dudley dursley in literally every way. rich, privileged, gets away with everything, and loves picking on powerless and vulnerable people for fun. the only difference is that james potter tended to do it with a partner/group, and dudley could do it on his own. oh, and dudley apologized, i guess. it was pretty half assed but we did see him trying to be better with the teacup and stuff. they both suck, obviously, but at least dudley had a slight turning point. maybe i just don't like james because we never saw him be apologetic or regret anything in canon? idk.

cho chang: i honestly really liked her! i thought she and harry could have been super cute ever since i read the third book. now obviously valentines day of 1996 was a disaster, but i still think that if she and harry had met up again after the war and after they had figured themselves out, they could have sort of talked and apologized and moved on and possibly rekindled. idk, this isn't really as ~controversial~ as some of the others because i feel like cho chang is just more forgotten than unpopular or controversial, but i don't see a lot of charry content out there so i'm putting this here :]

one last thing i almost forgot, VIKTOR KRUM IS A FUCKING CREEP!! i used to be more hesitant about voicing this opinion because he's so loved in the fandom, but GOD DAMN he's a creep. as a famous, rich, popular adult, he asks out a 15 year old and is super nice to her and appreciates her intellect and is generally very sweet to her, but that just. that literally just sounds like grooming to me?? wtf?? i mean if i was asked out at 15 by an 18 year old, i would be VERY creeped out. also he comments on how attractive ginny (15 at the time) is at bill's wedding when HE IS IN HIS 20s. he then makes a comment along the lines of 'what's the point of being famous if all the good looking girls are taken?' HEY HERE'S AN IDEA, FIND A WOMAN INSTEAD OF A GIRL??

there's gotta be more controversial opinions i have but no one else comes to mind right now; feel free to request opinions on specific characters! i have a lot of those :]

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let-us-cultivate-our-garden · 3 months ago

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Do you think Boscha should have been explored more or given a proper characterization instead of just pushing her aside or using her as a convenient threat? I don't think TOH acknowledged her or her feelings very much. And it spreads to the fandom too - I've met some truly awful fans who wanted her to die or be expelled or lose all her friends and family. Or all three. I do not think either the show or fans gave her fair treatment. She has kind of a low-key Belos treatment - hints are shown and it's clear to people deep enough in fandom that she's more than a flat bully, but the show chooses to keep her as a flat bully and not treat her as a person who may be traumatized from Amity suddenly snubbing her out of the blue and telling her to grow up and then everything that happened in the Collector's apocalypse. She's my favourite character, and I think part of it may be because I like the idea of her escaping everything and having a future she likes somewhere else. Preferably still in contact with Amelia and Cat and not with them refusing to speak to her ever again like so many seem to want. Has the literal child not suffered enough already, especially with them being turned to puppets?? She is going to have PTSD from everything, and that is a fact. She deserves to learn and grow and not be a punching bag for fans and characters in fan works to snub and beat up because the show did not do its job fleshing her out. And after Belos was stomped on, part of me can't help but wonder if Dana would endorse Willow beating up Boscha and her losing her friends and future too.

Justice for Boscha. She deserves more than this show.

Sorry to say, anon, but I barely remember anything about Boscha. While I sympathize with wanting to see your favorite character treated with more "respect" and as a deep character, sometimes, characters just fulfill a basic narrative role and that's it. And that's okay.

Since I can't adequately answer this ask, I've decided to outsource it. The following response is from @mdhwrites a certified Boscha fan: "NO.

I fucking love Boscha but absolutely not.

Honestly, if anyone wanted to have this, it should have been Amity. Commit to her being a bully. However, Boscha is a bit character who's narrative purpose is to make the audience further want her to abandon the entirety of her whole life for Luz. To make it so that it seems like literally everything to do with who she was before Luz was pure evil. As such... She honestly should have been LESS nuanced.

Kind of like Odalia, if you ask genuinely how terrible Boscha is, the answer is not really, including in relation to Amity. She follows Amity faithfully. Amity is the only person she doesn't mock, criticize or be cruel to. She doesn't target specific people for her bully tendencies, instead just being oppurtunistic of being fun. She never decided one person had to be eternally miserable like Amity did with Willow. Yes, there's Winging it Like Witches but that episode only functions if Boscha ALREADY DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WILLOW. She TURNED into focusing on Willow and by all signs would have stopped the intensity once Willow was no longer taking her spotlight. Yes, she's not the best person in the world but most people in Hexside, from what we can tell of her status as an outcast, would have said the same thing Boscha did about Willow: She's a failure and associating with her is social suicide.

I mean... I literally made a 300k story where Boscha became the main character because of the conflicts in the narrative intention and execution when it came to her character. I then added her as a major character to one of the longest things I have ever written, Little Miss Rich Witch kind of because they're right. Boscha has a lot of interesting elements going on with her that I can't tell if they were intended or not. They seem intended with S3 but even S3 makes her look terrible and is painful to watch as everyone discards her. The poster is just right that Boscha went through WAY fucking worse than Luz quite literally ever did. What Luz feared would happen to her if she told the truth, Boscha had happen to her following all the social rules that her best friend taught her or reinforced. What the fuck?

But again... Would that have made a better show? No. Boscha didn't actually have a place in this show besides as a punching bag. As someone to shirk blame off of from Amity, much like Odalia and hey, do you recognize that both of those characters are treated like they are somehow worse than Belos? Almost like Amity had a lot of fans projecting onto her which says TERRIBLE things about those people's unwillingness to recognize Amity's own monstrousness and willingness to just blame others? Amity is one of the most awkward elements of the show, given so much time and clear narrative direction with fucking awful execution that characters like Boscha suffer around her.

Boscha also suffers from TOH's "I'm not like other kid's shows" problem because other kid's shows would have written her more evil. Would have gone more over the top. They kept her grounded though because that's the more realistic and nuanced and 'mature' take. It's also just the worse one for your narrative."

#asks #the owl house #toh boscha #toh critical #toh criticism

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bumpkinspice0 · 1 year ago

Text

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: explicit (MINORS DNI!!!!!)

Word Count: 5285

Summary: There's a massive breach to Spider Tower, Miguel needs the help of the entire spiderverse to contain it.

Warnings: Previous traumatic accident (Wound and pain from such but nothing too descriptive), I don't know how healing works it's the future shut up, angst, pining, protective!Miguel SMUT! Sexy shower time, fingering, praise kink, kinda body worship, Miguel takes GOOD care of you, don't look at me

A/N: Sorry this took longer to update than usual, life really started lifin' there. Also I didn't know how to write the shift in relationship dynamic good so you'll gotta deal with that too. ENJOY

Previous. Next

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 10

Let Me Take Care of You

You drift lazily on the waves of consciousness for what felt like hours, your eye’s only forming blurry images as you attempt to force yourself to wake up. The smell is the first thing you notice. Fresh, clean linens and something else you recognize but can’t put your finger on. It wasn’t quite sterile , like a hospital, but not completely welcoming like a home either. When you finally burst fully from the veil of sleep, it’s a room you’ve never seen before. Smooth and sleek futuristic architecture like the tower. All accented in crisp white and grays, almost no color— but it’s not a hospital room like you suspected. You’d been to the infirmary in the tower a handful of times, and this wasn’t it

It takes all your effort to simply turn your head to the side, and there on the nightstand is your answer. A framed photograph of Miguel and Gabe. They look younger than you know them. Maybe ten years ago. This was his room.

You were in Miguel's house.

You take another deep breath, bringing the sheets to your nose and finally recognize his scent amongst the clean white linens— like rich red wine. The smell of Miguel.

Why on earth were you here? You move to roll out of the massive bed, but a sharp pain in your side stops you. And in your shoulder— and your head— pretty much all of you.

You look down at your hands for the first time and see several bandages scattered up your arms. You had a particularly big one you recognized on your hand— you’d had an IV in at some point. Your clunky multiverse watch had been replaced with a day pass. Your suit had been replace with a cotton tee and shorts.

Ever so slowly you come up to a seated position. The worst pain was coming from your right side. You lift your plain gray cotton shirt to reveal more bandages wrapped around your abdomen and several ugly purple bruises peeking out from beneath.

“What the hell happened?” you whisper to yourself.

“You got blown up,” a familiar cheeky voice informs you. Lyla materializes at the end of the bed. She’s not a small little hovering woman though. She’s a full-sized person. You never seen her appear larger than a soda can and now she looked like you could practically touch her. “Well, the nanotech took most of the blow. You’re lucky.”

“Nanotech? The suit?” You run your hand over your face, feeling a few other bandaids taped down. One on your eyebrow and another on the cheek. Was there any part of you that wasn’t hurt?

You squeeze your eye’s shut trying to recall anything. There was a fight— I big one. You were called into the tower. It was a blur but you know you made it out. You remember laughing with Jess and Gwen afterward. You’d won. You even found Miguel afterward and he told you to… ah, there it was. Some freak explosion from the rubble by his room. Wrong place at the wrong time. This was gonna be embarrassing to come back from.

Any normal person would be in shock right now. You hadn’t been a normal person for nearly a decade. If you had a dime for every near-death experience you’d had since starting this job, you’d be able to buy the entirety of New York City. This wasn’t your first time waking up bruised and battered and it certainly won’t be the last.

All in all, not the worst you’d been banged up on the job, but still not great it landed you bedridden for god knows how long. You felt sluggish and tired but knew if you didn’t try to move around at least a little, you’d regret it later. Get the blood pumping, that always helped.

You’d really been in this situation too many times.

You slowly move the edge of the bed again. Lyla glitches in front of you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re going?” She places her hands on her hips.

“To get some water. I’m thirsty,” You shakily stand and walk right through her pixelated form. Your legs might as well be jello but you make it work.

“This is a fully automated house!” She forms back in front of you when you're just at the door, “I’ll get you the water.”

“I’m a big girl, I can get my own drink,” You sigh and walk/ limp through her again.

“Oh! You just wanna snoop!” she accuses.

Ah, she got you. Yeah, you wanted to move a little, yes, but this was a rare opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. You were in his house. His house! Alone!

“And so what if I do?”

She raises her hands in defeat. “Hey, I’m not stopping ya then.”

You slide the foggy glass door out of the way and leave Miguel’s bedroom. You walk out onto a lofted balcony overlooking the rest of his home. It matched the bedroom with its sleek white glossy and gray tones— and it was massive. Twenty-foot ceilings, Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, overlooking the city. Wherever you were, you were very high up. A modest living room sat in the center with sleek charcoal furniture. The floors were a glossy deep black. The second-floor balcony lined the entirety of the living space, with several doors and hallways leading to other parts of the house along its path. You make your way across the second level and down the sleek glass stairs— gripping the railing for dear life.

“How long was I out?” You ask Lyla, noticing the weakness in your legs again.

“Three days,” She answers, glitching to the bottom of the stairs. “You were in the infirmary until the swelling went down then the big guy brought you here.”

“What swelling?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer.

“In your brain. Minor. Should be fine now with all the drugs and advanced healing,” She says so nonchalantly it almost puts you at ease— almost.

Sounds like you had a concussion. Awesome. That explains the pulsing headache that was on the rise and your less-than-stellar vision. Your advanced healing can only do so much. You have brain fog to look forward to for the next 2 weeks. Even more awesome, “Might wanna take a week off after this.”

You made it to the bottom floor, spotting the kitchen underneath the stairs. It was sleek and clean like the rest of the house.

“Me? Take a week off? Nah, I’m unstoppable.” You joke as you round the kitchen island with the speed of a tortoise. A cabinet automatically opens for you, revealing the glasses. You grab one and fill it up at the sink. You chug the liquid down in a very unladylike way, immediately refilling the glass. Damn, you were actually extremely thirsty.

“Miggy’s gonna force you to take a month off with the way he’s been hovering over you.”

Your cheeks instantly heat up at her casual statement. She takes notice, a smirk pulling at her pixelated mouth.

“Where is Miguel?” You ask sheepishly.

“Called into the tower,” she casually glances down at her nails, “Had to go do something only he could do , I don’t know. He’s been at your bedside every day and night. He’s gonna be pissed when he gets back to see you finally awake when he wasn’t here. In fact, you should get back to bed.”

“How long ‘til he’s back?” You ask, completely disregarding her suggestion.

“No idea,” She shrugs, her expression still smug. She was having fun seeing your schoolgirl crush. Lyla knew everything from the beginning. She knew all the rules of the agreement too. Miguel brought you to his home. You’d slept in his bed. You’d stayed in this dimension well past the 48-hour limit. He was breaking rules for you— Miguel didn’t break rules.

You take your water and head to the massive windows. There was a large balcony just beyond the apartment. Lyla, seemingly reading your mind, opened the door for you— well not exactly a door. A rectangle of glass dissipates right next to you, leading outside. Guess they don’t do doors the same way in 2099.

The air is fresher than you expected for a city balcony, you attribute it to being so high up. This view was easily head and shoulders above any of the surrounding buildings. It was cold and a little windy, but it felt nice on your arching, bedridden body.

The view was spectacular. You’d been to Nueva York dozens of times before, technically, but you spent all your time in spider tower. You’d caught glimpses of the city, of course, but you never really took the time to appreciate it.

New York in 2099. A futuristic version of your home. It looked nothing like your New York. Everything was so sleek and rounded— taller than your world's cities. There are a few things you can recognize from this height. The green of Central Park is still cut out in the center of the towering Skyscrapers. You’re in Manhattan, not far from the park. The rivers converging around the islands— okay maybe you only recognize a few things. The buildings and streets you know were likely engulfed amongst the behemoth futuristic towers that now make up this New York.

No, this wasn’t your New York. This was Nueva York, and it was incredible.

“Lyla,” You ask and she automatically blips to your side, “Where are we? Like, where is his apartment?”

“You’re still in the tower,” She confirms, “The penthouse suite.”

She confirms your suspicions. You may not have seen much of the city, but you were certain Spider Tower was one of the tallest buildings in it.

Miguel lived and worked here. You wonder if he ever left the grounds in anything other than a portal. Did he have friends? Did he like to go out to dinner? What silly little life did he live outside of being Spider-Man? You suspect he doesn’t have one. You want to ask Lyla but you feel like you’ve already invaded enough of his personal life simply by being here. Then again… he apparently brought you here.

“Why am I here, Lyla?”

She raises her eyebrows over lidded, unamused eyes, “Do you really need an advanced AI to tell you that, girl?”

You don’t, but you also don’t want to dwell on the deeper implications of this unholy shit show.

“What do you think of… this? Of us?”

“Try being a little less vague if you can.” The AI rolls her eyes.

“Fair enough.” you mull over your next words, “But just… why would Miguel bring me here? He’s broken almost every rule.”

“Ya know, it amazes me how dense you humans can be,” She leans against the railing next to you, “Before you came along, Gabe and I were his only close friends. Though, I’m not sure I count.”

“You count.” You inform her immediately.

“Well, thank you,” Some comical blush circles pop up on her face and disappear in an instant, “Miguel cares a lot, despite trying to make people think he’s made of stone. You’re the only other person that’s… been in his life this way. He looks out for his own. Something bad happened to you— and he got scared. And he took control like he always does. Humans aren't always rational. That’s something you all need to accept.”

For a programmed interface, she was a really good therapist. It was all things you already knew but just didn’t want to admit to. You were just human. Miguel cared. You both cared— and that made everything more complicated.

“Was he really with me the whole time?” You ask Lyla, suddenly feeling like a tween gushing over a crush again.

She peeks her eyes over her obnoxious heart-shaped glasses and rolls her head to the side, “Why don’t you ask him yourself.” and in a flash, she’s gone.

As soon as she vanishes, you feel the spider-sense ring in your head, and butterflies instantly rise in your stomach. You turn around to see Miguel standing at the door, still in his spider suit with an almost heartbreaking look on his face.

“What are you doing out here?” it takes him only four long strides to stand at your side, “Lyla shouldn’t have let you out of bed.”

“To Lyla’s credit, she did try,” You smile at him. He doesn’t smile back, worry painted over his features.

“Stubborn woman.” He reaches out to you but quickly pauses his movements as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. “Please, come back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

You nod and head back towards the door. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how slow and awkward your walking is. He slowly walks at your side the whole time, hovering a hand behind you as if you’ll fall at any second. You catch a glimpse of your full body in the reflection of the windows and you can see why he’s so cautious around you. You looked like a minefield of bandages and bruises. It was jarring to see all at once.

The door closes behind you with a sleek ring as the glass reforms in an instant. You’ll never get used to that.

Miguel’s in front of you again, ghosting his hands over your body, “I can’t believe you’re up and walking. How are you feeling? How’s your vision? They stopped the internal bleeding right away but there still might be—”

He shuts up when he meets your eyes. His were wide but still soft somehow. Caring in a way you hadn’t seen before— deep, lustful red eyes.

“Hi,” you simply say.

“Hi,” he responds with the faintest of smiles. You’d seen his face flash through a series of emotions since he saw you, but he seems to have finally settled on relief.

“I… Like your house.”

“Uh, Thanks,” He stands up straight again, scratching the back of his head, “Will you— I need to— Can you just sit in the living room for me?”

“Um, sure, yeah,” you make your way to the living room just in front of you, he hovers next to you the entire way. He helps you to a seated position on the couch. You swear he holds himself back from fluffing the pillows too.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you to be–” He slowly sits down next to you, taking a deep breath. Shouldn’t you be the one freaking out? Today, apparently not, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” You say with slightly forced cheerfulness, “I mean… good considering…” you look down at the bandages scattering your body.

His gaze drops away from yours, “Yeah.”

You weren’t lying. Sure, you were achy and groggy with some bad scrapes and bruises, but overall… not bad. You’d likely experienced a critical accident just days ago. Even with advanced healing, you shouldn’t be as chipper as you are.

“I mean… how am I feeling this good ?” You ask, simultaneously questioning yourself and Miguel. “Lyla said it’s only been 3 days.”

“Four days now.” Miguel’s eyes shoot back to yours, “Partially because of your suit. The nanotech acted as a shield for the most part, preventing any burns and such. You’re also in the twenty-second century with access to the multiverse. We can heal anything.”

That’s… a fair point. Well, future medicine fucking rocked.

He scoots closer to you, reaching out his hand toward your wrist. He pauses, waiting for your permission and you simply place your arm in his hand.

“For example. Here…” He gently runs his thumb along a faint silvery line on your forearm, “You had stitches. I removed them this morning. The rest of these,” He runs a thumb over one of your bandages, “Are cautionary until this evening.”

“That’s amazing,” You look down at your other arm with scattered marks and bandages. Just a matter of hours and you’d be back to normal—for the most part. Like nothing ever happened at all.

“Still,” Miguel’s gaze drops again, “I don’t change the fact that you shouldn’t have been—”

“Don’t,” You cut him off, already knowing where this is going. “Shit happens. Shit always just happens with this job. I’m a big girl, I’ve been through this before. If you turn my freak accident into self-loathing man pain I’m gonna fucking kick your ass, O’Hara.”

You don’t want to focus on the gravity of it all. You don’t want some protective speech, you don’t want assurances that everything will be okay when you know it will be. His actions have spoken louder than his words ever could. You just… want him to stop looking at you like that— Like you’re helpless.

He says nothing. Shock briefly pulls at his stern features until he settles into a smile. You smile back.

“You’re probably hungry.” He says.

Right on cue, your stomach growls like a beast and you’re suddenly fully aware of the aching hollowness inside you.

“Starving.”

____________

Thank god Thai food still tasted the same in the future. You made the request and Lyla had it delivered in less than thirty minutes. It was Miguel’s favorite place in the city, apparently. He had a favorite restaurant, just more proof to you that he wasn’t completely a workaholic robot. There was a regular human underneath that rugged persona, just like you’d always suspected.

You heartily enjoy a red curry and a few dumplings, Miguel has some noodle dish he sets aside for later.

As you finish your meal Miguel returns with a kit of medical supplies, graciously asking if he could check your progress. You agree, not turning away from your dinner for a second. He scans your body with a small tool you’d never seen before.

“Inflammation down 20 percent, vitals normal, advanced healing progressing as expected,” Lyla’s ambient voice announces, “She’s doing great, despite not listening.”

“I’m a rebel, what can I say,” you chuckle lightly. The scan finishes and several small projections hover around Miguel.

“Okay, yeah, this is all good. Really good,” He says, reading over the results. He’d changed out of his suit, opting for a loose pair of sweats and a shirt with a band you don’t recognize. Strangely enough, he looked more attractive in normal clothes than in a skintight suit. He was comfortable. He wasn’t Spider-Man or a leader he was just— Miguel. You liked just Miguel.

He rummages around back in the kit and pulls out a syringe with pale blue liquid.

Oh hell no.

“What’s that?” You ask with apprehension.

“Painkiller and something that’ll speed up your healing,” He scoots closer to you at the dinner table, “This is your last round of it.”

“I don’t think—”

He jabs it into your shoulder before you can properly protest. Despite the pain from the needle, you swear you can feel relief instantly once it’s injected.

“Ouch.” You grumble, taking the last bite of your rich curry.

“Oh, do you need a lollipop?” he tuts, packing away the kit— infuriating man.

“No, but maybe something else to suck on,” You joke. His cheeks flush in an instant. Victory. “Actually what I’d like most is a shower,” you admit.

After four days of stewing motionless in a bed, you can practically smell yourself— which means Miguel could definitely smell you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re still a fainting risk and I don’t want to leave you—”

“Okay, then come with me.” You counter instantly. His protective nature is not going to keep you from a hot shower. And well… It felt nice to have him close.

He pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. His cheeks are still faintly red, “I mean, I guess I—”

“Great,” You stand and make your way to the stairs, “Let’s go.”

You pause at the foot of the stairs, remembering what a slow challenge they were earlier. Sure, you were feeling better than earlier— you’d had a meal and whatever was in that needle was fucking magic— but your legs still felt like compacted jelly.

Before you can take the first step you feel Miguel behind you, his hands caressing down the back of your legs and up your back. He gently scoops you into his arms with ease and strides up the steps without missing a beat. Your spider-sense sighs in gratitude.

“Sure. Let’s go.” He grins, glancing down at you.

He walks you both back through his bedroom and into the master bath. A sleek glossy room that matched the rest of the penthouse, every inch of it covered in black marble. The massive shower was on your left and the counter with a ceiling-height mirror was to your right. He seats you on the counter next to the sink. The rainfall shower starts up behind him.

“Okay, let’s get these off you,” he says as he kneels down and gently pulls off one of the bandages from your leg. The flesh underneath is practically healed. You start to remove the ones from your arms, grazing your fingers over the already faint pink marks underneath them. Some were faint scabs and cuts, others were almost entirely healed over. Just four days and this is what was left.

He stands, finished with your legs. He grabs the hem of your shirt and gingerly pulls it off of you. All that remained was the bandages wrapping your abdomen. He slowly starts to unroll them. You wince slightly. He pauses but you nod for him to continue. This was the worst area. The bruises you saw peaking out earlier were already fading away from their previous deep purple. A faint wound still remained on your left side, red tendrils from it reaching over your stomach. You notice small pricks lining the larger portions of the wound. You’d had stitches here too— and now it looked like it’d been healing for weeks.

You shake your head, not wanting to stare at the damage any longer. Later. You’d think about it all later. You had a beautiful man and a shower that were calling your name.

You slide off the counter and pull at the hem of Miguel's shirt. He leans down and you pull it off his body, revealing that gorgeous toned torso. He runs his fingers along the elastic of your shorts and shimmies them off your hips. You do the same with his sweats. A silent ballet you both were deeply familiar with at this point. He cradles your hands as he guides you both backward into the waiting shower.

The steaming water feels like heaven as soon as it hits your body, the rainfall drenching you both in an instant. Your sore limbs instantly feel relief. Your buzzing mind was put at ease. All the anxieties of the day melted away and spiraled down the drain.

You pause there, just letting the sensation consume you. Time slows down and the crackling sound of water hitting stone fades away. You feel like you can properly think for the first time since you woke up hours ago— and it all hits you at once.

You fought. You almost died— and Miguel saved you. If he wasn’t right there when it happened, who knows what would have happened to you. You wouldn’t be here in his house, that’s for sure. He’d stayed by your side, he exhausted every resource to heal you. And he was still by your side right now.

He looks out for his own. Something bad happened to you— and he got scared.

Lyla’s words from earlier echo in your head. He was scared to lose you. You were scared to ever lose him. Not just as a fellow spider but as… something more maybe. You’d felt the feelings pulling at you when you hunted him down in the multiverse those weeks ago. Terrified you’d find him injured or even dead. It was more than a spider-sense. More than this forced proximity you’d both had… well, it wasn’t so forced anymore, was it.

You feel your weakened legs start to wobble and Miguel's hands are instantly on you, pulling you close to him.

“Easy, arañita,” he coos ever so softly.

You look up at him, watching the water cascade over his stern face. His fluffy hair was now drenched down over his forehead. Those crimson eyes filled with concern.

You sigh and rest your head on his chest. “Thank you… for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” He runs a hand over your head and down your back. “Consider us even for saving me… if that helps.”

And there it is, the Miguel you knew. Trying to step away from the gravity of the situation. From feelings becoming too real. This was all supposed to be temporary after all, maybe you should take a page from his book.

Still, you were both here in each other's arms— and that meant something.

“ Déjame cuidarte .” He says just above a whisper.

Miguel trails his hands down your arms, his touch somehow hotter than the water. You close your eyes at the combined sensation. You feel him reach overhead, grabbing something. His hands come back to you, now trailing through your hair. You feel a foamy lather as he does so and the faint smell of flowers hits your nose.

Miguel was washing your hair.

His fingers move slowly and with purpose as they crawl along your scalp. This wasn’t about getting you clean, this was about making you feel good. He was trying to comfort you. To make you forget about… well, everything.

You melt into him, trailing your hands along his stomach. One of his hands trails down your back while the other works the shampoo through your hair. He holds you close. He takes care of you.

He leans your head to the side, the soap rinsing from your hair. He walks you both further into the stream of water and turns you around. Your back is flush with his torso as his hands ever so gently trail over your healing body.

You feel suds foaming from his touch. When had he grabbed that soap? You decide you don’t really care.

He leans down, lips caressing your temples. “Do you feel good, little spider?”

“Yes,” You sigh.

“Do you want to feel better?” you feel one of his hands trail down your stomach and gently ghost over your waiting cunt. A pulse of arousal surges through your whole body.

“Please,” You moan, pulling his head further down. You lean back and pull him into a kiss. His fingers plunge down and run through your folds. You gasp for air at the sensation.

His fingers come up and circle lazily around your clit, already wet and wanting for his touch. He holds you. He plays with you.

Something’s missing this time. Something that was always there when you were both in the most intimate of positions— The spider-sense. You felt its presents, as you always did with Miguel, but you didn’t feel its pull. It’s seemingly innate nature to make you and Miguel go at each other like animals.

He wasn’t doing any of this because he felt like he had to, he was doing this because wanted to. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to see you squirm and come undone by his hands.

Later— Think about it later. Just enjoy this. Enjoy him.

He slowly pushes his middle finger inside you. You grind yourself into his palm as he slowly works in and out of you. His free hand comes up to cradle your breasts. He backs you both into the closest wall, the water still cascading over you. His knee comes up between your legs, spreading you wider.

“I’ve got you, arañita. Te tengo, está bien .” He moans against you. You're completely leaning against him as he holds you close. As he works you faster.

You see a glimpse of the both of you in the mirror past the quickly fogging glass— it’s absolutely filthy and you love it. His massive hulking form curled around you wantonly. Your serine, blissed-out face. You adored this man.

“I want you,” You moan, “W-want more.”

“No,” He says just a little too quickly, “Not yet.”

“Please.” You beg breathlessly.

“Not yet, sweet girl,” He sighs, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Finish healing. Get better for me, then you can have whatever you want.”

You don’t entirely dislike the sound of that. You're suddenly aware of your aching body again after being so caught up in the moment. With how fast you were healing it wouldn’t be long at all.

“P-promise?” you barely gasp out.

“I promise.” He curls his finger inside you, grinding his palm against your clit. You gasp, arching further into his touch. “Good girl.”

He was playing you like a fiddle. Familiar with every part of you like the back of his hand. He holds you there against him for what felt like hours, slowly working you. Letting the pressure build and fade as he saw fit— making you feel good.

You eventually come with a shaky sigh, your mind completely melting away. He holds you up, letting the warm water wash over you a few minutes more. You were spent, you were tired. The shower stops. Miguel wraps you in a towel and carries you to the bed.

He sets you on the mattress and gently runs the towel over your body. He cradles your leg, kissing down the length of it as the towel wicks away the beads of moisture. He does the same with your other leg and your arms. He takes his time, giving attention to every part of you. You watch him as he does so, feeling your heart race faster with every gentle touch.

He said he would take care of you. He said he wanted you to feel good.

When he finishes you hold each other's gaze for a moment. Both still completely naked, you now dry and him still sopping wet. It was a little ridiculous, but you’d never felt more comfortable around someone in your life than with this lumbering man kneeling at your feet.

He stands eventually, running the now useless towel over his damp hair. “I should—”

“Stay,” you reach out to him, grabbing his wrist. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”

He pauses, looking down at you. You can’t help but feel so small and meek under his gaze. He’d just unspokenly catered to your every need and now you were begging him to sleep with you. Pathetic, maybe, but you don’t fucking care. You just didn’t want him to leave— and you don’t think he does either.

He closes his eyes with a small smile, “Alright. One moment, please.”

He disappears back into the bathroom to grab a fresh towel and comes back out dry with a pair of black briefs on. You curl under the crisp white covers as he rounds the other side of his massive bed. The lights dim as he crawls in next to you. You roll onto your side and he pulls you into him. You feel his steady breathing against your back and it sends a wave of comfort over the normally buzzing spider-sense. He was so close. You were in his bed— with him.

“Miguel—”

“Shhhh,” he hums, resting his chin just above your head, “Duerme querida.”

You close your mouth, opting just to enjoy the rare moment with him. The feel of his body completely engulfing yours. His thumb tenderly rubbing comforting circles against your stomach. His alluring, amazing scent. Everything— just everything about him right now. You commit it to memory and lock it away.

You were in deep shit.

__________

Déjame cuidarte: Let me take care of you Te tengo, está bien: I’ve got you, it’s okay. Duerme, querida: Sleep, my dear.

And of course, do correct me if any of this is wrong!

I could think of literally no other way to get our Arañita in his house other than some dramatic near death experience, okay

_________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme @thesilenthill @bontensbabygirl @fallenangelsongwolf @raerorigel @littlefreakymunson @viriexo

@w33ni3

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #parallels fic

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rosie-rosem · 2 years ago

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hate pt 1

❥ pairing: nonidol!jake x fem!reader

❥ genre: angst, fluff?, highschoolau!

❥ summary: y/n is the quiet type; however, she cannot stand bullying. Is it because she been involved with something similar or not?? jake, her next-door neighbor and childhood friend (not really), is dating the girl who is making y/n's school life exhausting. she can't catch a break between being at school and home. But she also can't express her feelings...

❥ warnings: crying, grammar mistakes, not proofread, bullying, let me know if I forgot something

---------------------------

WC: 2.8k

A/N: It's been a while since I last posted. this is going to be 2 parts just cause wanted to post something by today but wouldn't have been able to finish it so here you are. the second part should be posted sometime next week! please be patient with me :3

school. not exactly your favorite place, you don’t get the best grades or have to many friends. There is too much bullying at your school, an unexceptionable amount. Your school like isn’t a normal public school, it’s more like an all “rich kids” school, not quite private either though. The only kids who get picked on are the scholars which is completely stupid because they are probably smarter than half the non-scholar kids there.

you, on the other hand, are not a scholar which is only beneficial because you do get a good education (even if you suck at it) and you don’t get picked on too much. Your parents are quite wealthy. your father owning a tech company and you mother working for a fashion company. Your parents obviously want you to go to college, graduate and find some amazing career, but that’s not going to happen so quick. You fortunately don’t have the pressure of being an heiress for your dad’s company due to your older brother already being next in line.

Compared to you brother, you are more troublesome and carefree. Him being a workaholic and definitely more mature. Of course, you get compared to him. but while he’s finishing up his years in college you're finishing up yours in high school. oh, can’t you wait to graduate from school, especially this school. You don’t exactly like cause trouble, it just happens a lot, which brings us here.

you rolled your eyes at the scene that was happening in front of the class. You just wanted to rest your eyes a bit more before the bell rung but you clearly got disrupted. Cha Soo-Yun, the most annoying girl you’ve met, she’s always the one to pick on the scholars which annoys the hell out of you. She was currently picking on a transfer student who got the scholarship and gladly switched schools, she’s a junior and her name is Soon Yunji. “Haha, look at all this garbage” Soo-Yun said laughing with her one friend after dumping Yunji’s belongings from her backpack on the ground. the poor girl looks traumatized, who wouldn’t I mean Soo-Yun looks like a clown with the amount of makeup she wears to school. You couldn’t stand seeing Yunji look so pale from being embarrassed so you stood up and gladly walked in front of the girl’s desk. Soo-Yun just scoffed “ruining the fun again i see.” she crossed her arms. “it’s kind of pathetic that the first 20 minutes after you arrived, you're already picking on someone.” you must look tired but also annoyed because that’s exactly how you feel.

“Why do you always get in my way?” Soo-Yun complains. You cough, aiming it towards her, she scoffs and backs up in disgust. “Sorry, I’m getting over a cold, wouldn’t want to catch it princess, would you?” you smile to her in an annoying way, which just pisses her off even more. “euk, I can’t believe someone like you goes to this school” she states, still looking at you with disgust. you sigh, shoulders dropping “and I can’t believe you looked in the mirror this morning and thought your makeup looked good.” you give her a slight smirk. she fumes as some of the other kids in the classroom whisper after your comeback. she sprints over to you with an arm raised, she goes in for a slap, but you successfully dodge the hit. “Ah, you missed.” you say, eyebrow furrowed. You sigh after lifting your chin a bit more “it’s okay, hit me. I can take it. plus, I probably deserve it…right?” you say, stretching a bit, read for a hit. she scoffs once again as she glares into your cold gaze. “Unless you're scared.” you cock your head to the side which an eyebrow raised. Soo-Yun breathes a frustrated sigh. “a few minutes ago, you didn’t seem so scared to- “you state before feeling a stinging pain on your left cheek.

she did it. she fell for it. you hear a few gasps leave other classmates' mouths after the girl slapped you. you chuckle to her. Soo-Yun frowns “why are you laughing” she practically growls. “I need you to realize that I didn’t start this fight, okay?” you say, she furrows her eyebrows “what? -" she begins but before she finishes you kick her at the waist, causing her to fall to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that hurt” you crouch down and give her a mocking look.

Just as you stand up from crouching a familiar scent comes quickly, Sim Jake. Helping Soo-Yun up, he glares at you, and you shrug, “you need to control your girlfriend Jaeyun.” you say before quickly turning around and help Yunji pick up her things from the ground. “You good?” you ask, she just nods “yeah, and thanks.” she smiles you nod, “no problem.” you respond before standing up and heading back to your desk. You lay you head on your desk once more, trying to find enough peace to rest a tiny bit more but all you hear is Soo-Yuns' whiny voice complaining to Jake about you.

You weren’t worried about possibly getting in trouble at school, you were mostly worried if your parents would find out, which of course they did. “Why did you attack Cha Soo-Yun at school today.” Your father spews his anger out quite quickly once you get home. “Who told?” you said which no expression on your face. “That doesn’t matter right now y/n! I’m asking you a question.” his jaw clenches, you sigh “was it jake?” you ask. he lets out a deep, frustrated sigh. “Unfortunately, we had to hear the news from his parents, do you know how embarrassing that is?” he rests his hand on his forehead in embarrassment. “that’s why tonight i made plans to have dinner with Jaeyun and his parents, you're not only going to apologize to jake but also to Soo-Yun tomorrow in school.” he points his finger at you. you nod, acknowledging that you're listening to him. “Okay now head you your room, I’m tired of you.” he says with annoyance in his tone.

"Tired of me, oh please." you say as you lay your head down on your pillow after falling onto you bed. once again jake’s being an asshole. you look over to your window only to see Jake walking around his room like he’s looking for something. you stand up and walk over to the window, he also sees you, giving you and annoying smirk only for you to reply by harshly closing your blinds.

The time came, when Jake and his parents were invited over that day. You work a baby pink sweater with a knee-high white skirt. "You look good, Hun" your mother complimented. you slightly smiled to acknowledge that you heard her. "Is everything fine at school?" She worriedly asked you. "everything's fine mom, Soo-Yun is just problematic and jake's not much better." you said with a frustrated tone. "Plus, dad just clearly likes jake more than me so..." you slightly rolled your eyes at the thought, you mom sighed in return. "You know your father-" She began but got cut off by the sound of the front door opening and familiar voices be heard.

you and jakes' families have been close for as long as you can remember. Part of that being because both dads grew up together another part being because you are neighbors. Although, you and Jake started disagreeing a lot more once you both hit puberty. You both were never very close but close enough. Well, until high school.

"y/n!" a sweet voice calls out to you as you walk towards the door. You give a soft smile to the beautiful lady. Jakes mom, she was so sweet, she was like another mom to you. You loved her. You opened your arms and gave her a tight hug. "How are you, my love?" She pets your head with a gentle touch. You nodded to her with a genuine smile, still in her arms "good, I've been good." She soon let you go, to which you walk over to Mr. Sim, Jakes dad. You look up to him, awkwardly. "Ah, come here" the man says, pulling you into his side, with a hug. You smile, once again.

You were quite close with both of Jakes parents, they were like a second pair of parents to you. You loved them dearly. "Hey kiddo" Mr. Sim says. "hey" you laugh in return. You both let go, only to walk back over to you mom but turn to look at Jake and slightly bow your head a little just to show a bit of respect, to which he gives nothing in return.

You all head over to the dinner table and get settled to start eating. A few conversations start but you just listen quietly. A bit longer into dinner, you get asked something. "So how has school been y/n?" Mr. Sim asks, genuinely curious. You look up from your plate, "It's been okay." You pick at your food while answering. Jake gives a quiet scoff which only leads you to sigh. "Speaking of which, I believe there's something you would like to say to Jake, isn't there y/n." Your dad says while giving you a glare. He motions you to stand up. You assumed you would be able to apologize to Jake privately, but no, Hes making you do it in front of everyone. Everyone else looked a bit confused, besides Jake of course.

You gulped and stood up from your chair. You hesitated for a bit, "I'm sorry..." You said but soon continued after you dad gave you a look suggesting that you continued. "I'm sorry for how I treated Soo-Yun today. I will be apologizing to her separately as well, but because she's someone you care about, I'm apologizing to you too." You said, keeping you head down, biting the inside of your cheek in embarrassment. Jake just nods his head but then continues to eat. you sigh. Meanwhile, everyone else felt the awkward tension. "Good enough." your father says, which absolutely outrages you. You sit down as your lip quivers. You dad basically showed everyone how much control he had over you, and you hated it.

You held back your tears and continued to eat while putting on a smile to not show how upset you felt. After a little bit, when the tension cooled off you spoke up, "Excuse me, I'm going to use the bathroom" You gave a soft, yet fake smile.

Instead of going to the bathroom you went to your backyard patio and sat on the little bench swing. You felt even more frustrated and upset than you did earlier. You dad was nothing like jakes, and of course you didn't want to compare them, but your always jealous of how jake gets treated by his dad compared to you with yours. You sat there with a frown, picking your nails but soon hear heavy footsteps getting closer, Jake. "That was tense" he says, sitting next to you. "You enjoyed it, huh?" you said, still not looking his way. "Not as much as I will tomorrow when you say it to her." He says which makes you finally look at him. how did he know you were going to apologize to her tomorrow, your dad only told you to a few hours ago. "What if I don't do it tomorrow, huh?" you raise your eyebrows at him. "I would, because I can easily tell your father." he chuckles. You clench your teeth. "What, are you mad I know your weakness?" he says. "Weakness?" you question. "Your dad." he says. you squint. was he right? was your dad your weakness? "You don't know anything about me Sim Jake." Your lip twitches. "we'll see about that" he says, you stand up and walk away.

When you return to the others, you speak out, "I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling very well. I'm going to have to say goodbye now so I can lay down." You explain and say your goodbye before heading up to your room. Once you close your door, you feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and panic. Your dad is your weakness and that hurts your heart so much realizing it now. You dad wasn't always like this, he was kind, loving and fun up until you hit middle school. you don't know what happened, but it was like once your older brother left, he was terrible.

You walked over to your window and opened the closed blinds, sliding the window open to get a bit fresh air due to feeling suffocated. You didn't want to cry, but you couldn't help it. What's happening to you.

You eventually head over to your bed and fall asleep with shiny streaks on your face from the tears.

I hate you sim jaehyun.

The next day at school was nothing you ever imagined. It felt like all those k-dramas you watched where you were walking towards your classroom and everyone around you was whispering while you walk past. You felt confused. When you walked into the classroom, all eyes were on you which gave you chills. You scan the room only to see Soo-Yun crying in her seat, arm wrapped in a bandage. You sigh as Jake glares at you.

“Park y/n!” you turn to the crying girl. “Do you see what you caused?” she stood up and stomped your way. you eyed the ground annoyingly. “Ah, about that, I apologize for how I acted yesterday. It was wrong of me to kick you” you looked at her, apologizing. Jake kept a close eye on you while his girlfriend let out a snotty comment. “You realize that you're the bad guy now, right?” she chuckled, you turned to her. “That doesn’t matter to me. Just be happy I apologized.” you glared at her for a moment before turning away and heading to you seat. “Hah, only cause your daddy told you to.” she scoffed, you turned around in shock by her words. “What?” you said with furrowed eyebrows. You tightly closed you fist at her words, how did she know anything about that? you looked at Jake, he just looks back with no expression at all.

you looked around to see everyone looking at you like you just committed a sin, what the hell is going on. You ran out of the classroom, only to bump into someone on your way out, “sorry.” you mumbled not paying any attention to who they were, and you heart was racing, it felt like you were going to throw up, why though?

“Can you pick me up?” you called you brother with a shaky voice. He said he’d be there soon, so you just had to wait.

Did Jake tell? What was going on. Why were you so affected by your dad getting brought up? You brought you hand to your chest and rubbed it to get your heartbeat to slow a bit. “y/n” someone called for you. you turned to the familiar voice with anger and hurt in your eyes and a quivering lip. “What?” you practically yelled. Jake walked closer, only for you to back up. “Did you get what you wanted?” you said, holding you tears back. Jake really hurt you this time. “What?” he asked. Just then, a car pulls up. You brother rolls down the window and greets jake. “Go.” you say to you brother after getting in. He’s confused, but still listens.

You sit across your older brother in his apartment. He gave you a juice box which you were currently drinking. “So, what happened?” he asks, putting his elbows on the counter in the kitchen. “Nothing much, I just felt like skipping today. And please don’t tell dad!” you practically begged him. “Is he still giving you a hard time?” he asks. you were always comfortable telling you brother things, but this was different. It was your dad, and he was very close with your dad. “Ah, no..” you lied “he’s just been busy lately.” you say, reassuring you brother with a fake smile. “Hm, okay” he pets your head.

“But what was Jake doing outside with you?” he questions. “Not sure, but I don’t care. he’s an asshole,” you frown more when thinking back. “What?” he asked. “Him and his girlfriend are both assholes.” you share, still feeling mad. “I hate him.” you start tearing up. “Huh? what’s up?” he walks over to you. you start crying harder. “he’s so stupid.” you say. Your brother pats you back. “What do I do?” you question into your brother's chest. “I’ll make some ramen.” your brother says, you sniffle and nod.

______________________________________

hope you liked pt 1! come back for pt 2 (here) <3

#enhypen #kpop #enha #fanfic #jake #jake enhypen #sim jake #jake sim #enhypen jake #kpop ff #enhypen angst #high school au #jake x reader

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 11 months ago

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Was This Vacation a Mistake?~Crazy Rich Asians (Astrid x black! fem! reader) ~Part 3

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: After a traumatic night, you decide to stay with Astrid a few nights before you depart back to America. The situation left you angry and terrified, but Astrid proved to be an amazing hostess and a shoulder to cry on.

Word Count:

Warnings: Talk of racism and microaggressions.

Author’s Note: Here’s part 3 guys! As always tell me how this is going so far and what you like about it. Idk if this is good or not but I really want to finish this series soon. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy.

The cup of tea Astrid offered grew cold in my hands as I sat on her fine couch in the living room, my head against Rachel’s shoulder. Astrid strolled back into the room, returning from putting her son Cassain back to bed.

“Do you need anything else, Y/N?” Astrid said as she circled the couch and leaned against its back. “Blanket or something, you and Rachel look like you’re about done for the night.”

She wasn’t wrong, my eyes were heavy and Rachel was quiet for a while. Her phone dinged, awakening her from her semi sleepy state.

“Mmh, N-Nick! He’s outside!” she said, eyes and fingers sweeping her phone simultaneously.

I sat up to the best of my abilities and try not to blink too much with grogginess and stress already pulsing around my temple. Grading papers should have been the move from the beginning; I wasn’t welcome here from the start, people like me weren’t welcome from the start.

“Y/N,” Nick’s caring voice broke me from my thoughts thankfully. He stood in the center of Astrid’s living room with Rachel at his arm, his eyes sparkling in concern. “First of all, I’m so sorry this happened. Come here.”

Nick pulled me into his arms, nearly making me weep from the contact. His tall frame was soothing, yet I felt terrible because of all that’s happened; this happened because of me. If I stayed home, they wedding would have gone on, Rachel probably wouldn’t have to worry as much as she has to. I wouldn’t be the center in all this, so much pity. It isn’t pity, I should know that, it’s racism. Full blown racism in my face and I can’t fathom it for some reason. I don’t know why. Frustration pooled at me, tears and heat pricked my skin and eyelids.

“Y/N? Are you all right?” Nick asked. He pulled back to pat my elbows.

Rachel sunk to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Y/N?”

“I-I’m OK. I-I’m fine, I-I just need a night to, I don’t know, forget all of this,” you said as you leaned into Rachel. “I want to go home though, I’m sorry, guys.”

Nick shook his head. “No, no. In fact, I booked you a ticket home the day after tomorrow. First class of course, my friends stay in style. It’s the least I can do for how uncouth and down right disgusting my family and our associates were. I can even book you the best hotel around here.”

The thought was nice, a little too nice but I had to declined.

“Sorry, Nick, I don’t think that’d be a great idea. Don’t want to seem out of place again.”

“Would a coastal house work? A short heli ride would get you there in--”

“Nick, I don’t think that’ll help,” Rachel said, cutting him off. “Traveling somewhere that isn’t home won’t help, yeah? Y/N?”

I nodded. Nick’s amazing, I love him but throwing money at everything isn’t going to bring me the comfort he thinks it will. It is endearing though.

“She can stay here for tonight, tomorrow as well,” Astrid said, speaking up from her position behind the couch, hand smoothing out the plushness of it. “Anything she needs, I’ll be willing to provide, no issue.”

My heart skipped a beat at the offer; Rachel’s trying not to grin from ear to ear, brought me closer by the shoulder to look at me with those brown eyes. They’re still glossy, all authentic for me I know but know she’s using them to her advantage I swear.

“Astrid sounds like great company, yeah?” she said. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She’ll look out for you, I promise.”

Nick embraced Astrid prior to turning back to Rachel and I. “Thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Astrid smiled, it reached her beauty mark, highlighting her face perfectly. How was I going to survive a night in her home? Two nights even. Rachel beamed back as if she heard my mental question, squeezing my shoulders.

“You got this, call us when you feel a little better. OK?”

I nodded. Rachel and Nick gave me quick hugs, doing the same with Astrid before they left, leaving me alone with her. Alone with Astrid Leong. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with all that’s happened.

“Y/N?” Astrid called.

Her voice soft, as it was before yet lower, tender. I didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want her pity. I just want to go home already.

“Y/N?” she called again. I glanced at her, she’s close now, right in front of me; the pity I harped on wasn’t there in her eyes though, hurt and worry, similar to how she seemed at Nick’s grandmother’s house.

“C-Can I hug you?” she asked, opening her arms a bit. Her mouth twitched in a tiny smile while she hesitated with her movements. “Hugs always put me at ease, I-I want to put you at ease.”

The word ease broke me, almost. Tears pricked at my eyes, Astrid found them as she inched closer. She didn’t hug me though, still gauging my reaction. I nodded and met her in a warm embrace; it eased me as she said: her arms wound around me perfectly, fit me well and the tears slipped. A sob broke through too. Why the fuck am I crying? I was supposed to forget about all of that shit.

“It’s all right, darling. Let it out, it’s OK,” Astrid whispered. She pulled back to wipe my tears. She nodded to her couch. “Want to sit?”

I nodded, pursed my lips to keep from tasting the salty tears.

Astrid led me by the hand toward the couch, left some space between us when we got there, still holding onto me. Her touch proved pleasant, more so than it has been before--I was at ease. Her hand wrapped around my own wasn’t a huge deal either. I’m not even sure how long I can last but its working so far.

“T-Thank you, i-it means a lot, letting me stay here,” I managed to say. Astrid’s thumb rubbed my knuckles a little prior to her pulling it away.

“It’s nothing you have to thank me for,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it at all?”

This is a safe space I realize, however I’m not completely sure about opening up about these racially charged encounters. Sure, she’s non-white but like Rachel, sometimes it’s difficult bringing these matters up and talking through them. Sometimes I just need to deal with it on my own, then again, I do need to talk it out--somewhat.

“I-I just expected to tag along with Rachel and for this to be a normal vacation,” I started. “But I got centered, I-I should have known. Anti-blackness is global. I should have thought about it more, researched. I’m a professor for God’s sake, I always tell my students this. Maybe this vacation was a mistake, maybe I should have just stayed home.”

Astrid’s hands flocked to mine again, her eyes glossy once more. “No matter how much research or preparedness you set yourself up for, no one deserves to be harassed or see something like that.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the same. We both experience some fucked shit, I’m sure, you went to schools in England right? Most of those posh white folks, right?”

Astrid giggled at the description. “They were the living embodiment of posh. And you’re right. My experience is not the same but I can tell you about them. Take some of the weight off from today. Will that help?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Maybe I said it too quickly. It was her touches and how intense she looked to me: attentiveness deep in her brown eyes, paying all the mind to me, I had to glance to the spotless carpet below.

“As you know, or maybe you don’t, I’m not sure how much Nick has shared about me, I attended Harvard during university,” Astrid explained. She ceased holding my hands, calming my heart for a bit. “At this time, I was eighteen, away from home with enough money to make my posh peers turn their heads. Unfortunately, my money wasn’t the only thing they noticed.”

Astrid grimaced and I didn’t want her to delve back into anything like that. It’s different yes, but it can still hurt people. Rachel’s told me plenty.

“Astrid, you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much,” I said. My hand moved on instinct, holding her hand myself. “I-I get it.”

“Darling, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s not the most pleasant story to look back on but it happened. First semester, I was the only Asian girl in my class. There was an Asian boy, but he flocked with the white boys and a grade above me so there wasn’t too much we’d mutually have in common besides our ethnicity. I was Astrid the princess, according to Nick and I wished my white peers saw me as just some spoiled girl. Instead I was Astrid the girl who could grant you a happy ending; Astrid the girl who had to sit up front because her eyes were too slanted. There was worse things but, Y/N, you shouldn’t have to limit yourself because of what history has done. What these systems and institutions have done. Don’t let that stop you.”

She’s right. Astrid’s absolutely right. The dam broke again at this obvious realization and I’m crying again, trembling and all.

Astrid just pulled me toward her, embracing me yet again. I feel so stupid.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed against her shoulder. “I-I don’t mean to do this. I hate feeling like this.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s OK.”

We stayed like that for a while: Astrid wrapping her arms around my back, my head against her chest, heartbeat nearly lulling me to sleep. Tiny footsteps neared however, along with a few creaks of the floor and staircase.

“Mommy?”

Astrid tore herself away to face the child standing in a purple satin sleep shirt and matching pants. His hair askew, face clearly scrunched up from sleep. Cassian. Astrid’s son. I pulled myself further from Astrid, wishing I could sink into the couch altogether.

“And what are you doing up, sweetie?” Astrid said, grin plastered on her face, not feeling awkward about her son seeing his mother hug a woman he doesn’t know. “You should be in bed.”

Cassian rubbed his eyes with the back of a fist, attention on me while Astrid lifted him up to her lap, showing the boy off to me.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Astrid’s eyes shined, love filling them to the brim as she stared at her son, then to me. I still wanted to disappear; Astrid’s got my heart flipping again and skin set to a scorch. Maybe Rachel had a point, definitely not telling her about all the details of tonight.

“This is Y/N, Nick and mommy’s friend and our guest for a few nights,” she cooed, kissing Cassian on the forehead. “How about we go settle in bed and give her some space, hmm?”

I waved at the boy awkwardly. He seemed delicate in Astrid’s arms, fluttering his eyes, squishing and yawning as she stood engulfing the boy in tender love.

“C-Can you read me a story too?” Cassain whined.

“Of course we can, my love,” Astrid said. She was halfway up the stairs; I couldn’t stop looking at her. She turned back toward me, voice dropping a bit.“I’ll bring you some blankets to get comfortable, darling.”

Astrid’s gone before I can react, off to her motherly duties like the day we met. I’ve talked with her, seen her heart, been catered by her heart and I’m still skeptical about the entire thing. A mother, divorcee and a rich person. Rich rich. Loaded and her actions, her demeanor already triggers me, in a great yet intense way. Is she just being nice? Or is Rachel right? Should I talk to Nick about this? Should I not take this venture? Leave it alone before something drastic occurs again, her family is still old money, old traditions, old systems. Maybe I shouldn’t be looking at a potential straight woman like this?

The thoughts continued to linger while I sunk deeper into the couch.

Astrid returned after a while, a set of fancy comforters and covers hulking her arms. “I wish I would have prepared the guest room better but the couch is just as comfortable. Make yourself at home, stretch as much as you’d like, all right?”

I nodded, laid across the couch and reached up for the covers. Astrid pouted and shook her head.

“No, no. Let me, I am your hostess after all,” she said as she fluffed up the covers. “I need everyone under my roof safe, sound and more importantly, tucked in.”

My face and heart raced among-est each other each time Astrid placed a layer on me, tucked a cover against my arm and back, patted in place. She’s so close, there’s no way she’s just being nice.

“Y/N? Are you all right? This didn’t make you uncomfortable, did it?”

I shook my head fervently. “No, this is so much more than I can ask for Thank you.”

Astrid’s eyes softened. “Not a problem, darling. I hope your dreams are sweet and more pleasant than today.”

Those words tingled me to my bones, warmed me more than the massive quilt bulking me and allowed sleep to overtake me.

#gemma chan #gemma chan x reader #astrid leong #astrid leong x black reader #astrid leong x reader #black reader #black fem reader #black female reader #crazy rich asians #crazy rich asians fanfic #crazy rich asians fanfiction #fanfic #wlw #wlw fic #wlw fanfiction

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oliversrarebooks · 1 year ago

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The Rare Bookseller Part 21: Jameson's Threat

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, hypnosis, abusive language, dehumanization

"Oh, he's much too rich for me. I just wanted to take a look at him, see how the ultra-wealthy eat."

"It's nice to see such a high-quality thrall. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

"I think he'd be a bit wasted on me. The sort of thrall you only bring out when there's fancy company, if you catch my meaning."

"I'm always on the lookout for a thrall that can be trusted with household matters, and I think he'd get along well with my Daisy."

Oliver spent what seemed like an eternity being poked and examined and remarked upon by vampire after vampire, all dressed in their Sunday best (not that vampires, he supposed, went to church) and all eager to catch a glimpse of the marquee merchandise. He bowed and introduced himself and tried to make himself appealing and subservient, and every time he wavered even slightly, Miss Lily was there to quiet him. He couldn't count on Lord Alexander, and he had to be sold, or risk a worse fate. That much was more than clear to him.

He derived at least some small comfort by the fact that he was in such high demand. He'd never experienced anything like it, always being the sort of person who was small and quiet and overlooked, even as far back as grade school.

"So this garbage is what passes for a luxury thrall in this city?" The vampire was pale as a ghost, with watery brown eyes and an expensive looking suit.

Distress shot through Oliver at the growled question. "I'm -- I'm sorry, sir, if I've offended --"

"Ugh, the thing talks," he said with a look of utter disgust. "I don't know why they allow this at a high-end auction. I don't need my livestock begging for their lives."

"Many of the patrons of our auction are looking for thralls capable of handling household chores, so we always offer some with their minds intact," said Miss Lily, in a tone that didn't fully mask her annoyance. "You're welcome to look at some of our other offerings if you're interested in fully erased humans."

"All the erased here are low grade, barely fit for a gutter leech. I'm not paying good money for bad blood. I could just have this one erased after I buy him," said Lord Jameson.

No level of trance was going to keep Oliver from panicking at that. "Sir -- but --"

"Quiet," said Lord Jameson, and the word sank Oliver -- not like when Miss Lily did it, but like being pulled under quicksand, chest constricted, struggling to breathe. "You'll be erased, rendered mute and illiterate, and live in my pens, and you'll be grateful for it. Dumb cattle."

Oliver gasped for air, the room spinning around him. He thought he'd escaped that fate. He'd consoled himself that was going to end up a servant, not necessarily the life he would have chosen, but a tolerable one. He thought he'd avoided having his precious intelligence stolen from him, being turned into nothing more than an animal. He was a fool. He'd always be in that sort of danger as long as he lived among vampires.

His knees hurt. He realized the reason why a second later -- he'd hit them on the wooden floor as he'd collapsed.

"Lord Jameson, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from traumatizing the merchandise until you've paid for it!"

"As if he --"

Oliver's head was swimming. The voices around him became muffled. He felt as if he was outside his body, watching himself faint. Then everything went black.

"Oliver. Oliver!"

His eyes snapped open. Miss Lily was pulling him to a sitting position. He looked around frantically, but --

"I saw Lord Jameson out. He's gone," she said. "Damn him! You were doing so well."

"Is he --" said Oliver, coughing, his mouth dry. "Is he going to -- is he going to buy me, sir?"

"Here. Water," said Miss Lily, offering him a cup. She rubbed his back soothingly as he drank. "He may try. I can't promise you he won't. And he is rich. But there are others interested in buying you as well."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lily, but I don't want him to -- "

"I know. I understand. Take a deep breath for me, Oliver, and be quiet."

He did as she instructed and welcomed the blankness that invaded his mind.

"Oliver, dear, look at me," she said, and her fingers were fluttering in front of his face. "Watch. Back and forth. You're so tired. Sleepy. Watch my fingers. Making you sleepy," she said in a rapid patter. "Relax. Sleepy. Back and forth. Eyes are closing. Watch my fingers. Getting sleepy. Shut your eyes. Go to sleep."

The hypnotic commands overwhelmed Oliver's already overwhelmed mind, and his eyes fell shut, his head resting on Miss Lily's shoulder.

"That's it, Oliver. Just take a little nap and you'll feel so much better. Forget about what just happened. Let it grow hazy in your mind. Sleep and forget, dear, sleep and forget."

There wasn't any real comfort here, just a vampire hypnotizing him into complacency, but even an artificial peace was better than none. He allowed his thoughts to slip, the memory of what had just occurred to dull. He curled against Miss Lily, who patted his hair with a cold hand and whispered suggestions of sleep in his ear.

"Oliver, Oliver dear, are you feeling better now?" Miss Lily's voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "I have an old friend who wants to see you. Wake up."

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long he'd been out for. He was still in a showroom, Miss Lily holding the chain of his handcuffs, and he wasn't... quite... sure what had just happened, only that it had been awful.

Miss Lily helped him to his feet. "Thanks for waiting, Ruth. He's normally a doll, but we ran into a little trouble with Jameson."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" The nearby vampire was wearing a well-tailored suit and had a fashionable bob cut. "Jameson also makes me wish to curl up into a ball and die, so I fully understand." The two laughed.

Lord Jameson. Yes. That had been it. He had threatened Oliver with a fate far worse than death. Thanks to Miss Lily, it seemed further away, bearable. After all, Lord Jameson was only one of several people who were interested in buying him.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Oliver said, bowing to Miss Ruth.

"How polite and dapper," Miss Ruth said. "Let me take a good look at you." She took Oliver's chin and turned it back and forth, looked him deep in the eye, then grasped his arms to have him turn around in a circle, his ball gown swishing. "Fine stock. Excellent blood. And you say he has his intelligence still?"

"Yes, his mind is well-preserved, if I do say so myself," said Miss Lily.

"Excellent." Miss Ruth had an odd gleam in her eye as she addressed Oliver. "I'm a lawyer, boy, and my thralls pull double duty as my clerks. If I buy you, I'll work you to the bone. Paperwork up to your neck, filing as far as the eye can see. You won't get that with any other vampire here. What do you think of that?"

So, effectively the opposite of Lord Jameson -- but the normal unappealing prospect of spending the rest of his life doing unpaid clerical work for a vampire seemed like paradise compared to having his mind wiped and living in an animal pen. "I'd be honored that you appreciate my intelligence, sir."

She nodded approvingly. "Good answer, boy. Let's see how well trained you are. Eyes on me. Name and date of birth."

"Oliver Pines, July 1, 1899, sir."

"What's the capital of Vermont, New York, Florida?"

"Montpelier, Albany, and uh -- Tallahassee. Sir."

"Three branches of the government."

"Legislative, executive, judicial, sir."

"Stand on one foot and hop three times."

He dutifully did so, thankful that he hadn't been given women's shoes to wear as his stockinged foot thumped on the floor. There was something strangely nice about being commanded like this, of having his simple obedience rewarded.

"Well done. Now go to sleep." She snapped near his ear, and Oliver was out like a light, caught in Miss Ruth's arms. "Awake." And he was up again, blinking.

"Yes, he'd do, he'd do quite well. I'm sure he'd easily pick up the training he needs," she said. "Shame about the price, but we'll see."

"I hope I can be of service to you, sir," said Oliver. Any option in the mix that reduced his chances of being purchased by Lord Jameson was fine by him.

Part 20 >> Masterlist >> Part 22

Thanks for reading this story of Oliver's distress.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade-blog @ivycloak @ladyjaye13 @irregular-book

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #mind control #vampire #vampire whumper #captivity #hypnosis #rare bookseller #oliver #lily #jameson #ruth

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urban-mutt · 2 months ago

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Perfect Someone: Chapter 1 - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You are a thief! You target old rich men. You drug them and steal from them while they're drink out of their mind. Your last operation didn't go as planned, and now you are an accomplice in a serious crime. And a plaything for your new sick friend.

Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Slurs, Transphobia, Homophobia, Violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol, Smoking, Drug Addiction, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Murder, Reader will be abused delulu and traumatized, FTM Reader, trans reader, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Manipulation, Daddy Kink, Forced, Angst, Inspired by Music, Biting, Age Difference emphasized, Sugar Daddy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, dead dove ig

anatomical terms: cunt

words: 2817

ao3 link

Author's notes: Inspired by my sims save and Sofi Tukker - Perfect Someone (And Melanie Martinez - Tag You're It)

You are a thief. You target old, rich men who think you are just a dumb young boy who wants some mature meat. You do want that, but none of them are your type. Even if they were… you can’t risk it. You lace their drinks with ketamine, and by the time you two are in a hotel room, the guy is long asleep. You take everything you can off of him and leave. Perfect. A huge amount of drugs and alcohol makes them forget anything happened, plus shame stops them from ever seeking you out.

You make pretty good money, but you still prefer living in hotels, using rental cars, and keeping cash or using crypto. Better safe than sorry.

Your lifestyle is a nonstop party. You remind yourself of Harley after she broke up with the Joker; though you never had an abusive guy throw you into the acid. Funnily enough, recently you met a guy who would 100% do that. You never wanted to be an actual criminal, bad person, or a predator. You never thought of yourself as one. You’re just a scammer, and who cares about old rich cis men anyway? They deserve it!

Anyway…

You were at your local scouting spot. Looking for a target. And then you saw him…

Tall, well groomed, golden Rolex, golden chain, purple shirt with a few too many undone buttons. Gray hairs forming a white streak in the middle of his dome, mustache...

Black pants and— Ugliest fucking loafers you ever saw. They’re not just teal; no, they're CYAN.

This man is screaming, “I’m rich”!

You stroll over to say hello, but he seems too busy talking to someone else to pay attention.

You eye the unattended drink. Cis men never care to pay attention to such things. Too bad.

You order something for yourself and turn your back to him. You hear the glass being lifted and set down again. It's totally his.

He is distracted, the bartender is distracted, the DJ just arrived, and people seem to pay more attention to the upcoming show than anything else. Perfect.

You take a baggie of powder out of your pocket and turn around quickly to— To see your target mirroring you.

You both freeze, holding your drugs, ready to lace the same drink. You pocket yours quickly, and he does the same. You stare at each other, waiting for this to resolve itself. You blush intensely in shame, and he smiles sleazily.

You don’t remember how you two ended up in a hotel room. Tearing clothes off of each other.

He didn’t even acknowledge your lack of a dick. How perfect.

He was perfect.

No condom, no wasting time on foreplay. It was raw and wild. It did hurt a bit, but you like it, it’s fine. His cock is impressive, just like the ones you see in porn. Big and thick. Well-trimmed bush and shaven, ass, and balls. He sucked you good after filling you up, moaning into your cunt.

A perfect man.

You catch your breath, looking up at the ceiling while he lights a cigarette.

As soon as you remember who you are, you get up on your shaky legs, trying to find your pants.

“So, what’s your deal?” The man asks.

“I steal from old guys.” You say as you put your pants on.

“And give it to the poor?” He chuckles.

“Yeah. I’m the poor.” You glare at him, putting your shirt back on.

“Wait.” He puts a cig in his mouth and gets up to pick up his pants and take out a stack of cash.

He counts out loud one thousand dollars and drops it on the bed.

“I’m a thief. Not a prostitute.” You frown.

“And I wanted to rape and kill you, so what?” He scoffs, sitting back down.

“Ah, great.” You say with sarcasm. “That what you do? Rape people and kill them?” You call out his bluff.

“Yeah.” He says. A bit too relaxed.

It sounds too honest. You look down.

He chuckles. “What? Gonna snitch on me?” The stranger grins and exhales the smoke.

“No…”

This got real uncomfortable real fast.

“Bueno entonces...” He nods and takes another five hundred and a pen. He writes something on it and adds it to the stack on the bed.

You take the money and see that he wrote his phone number on the bill, with a few “xoxo’s”.

“Fate is on our side today... I like you. Call me if you wanna see me again.” He lays back, watching you.

“As if.” You bark back and head out. “Bye.”

“Hasta luego, cariño.” You hear him purr before you shut the door behind you.

Okay. Great.

You have no interest in unpacking thoughts of how close you were to death that night.

You put all the cash on your crypto wallet, including the one with his number. No way you're gonna call that freak. Not gonna report him either; you’re not that evil. Besides, you are a criminal yourself.

And trans. And gay. No. No cops. Never.

You try to forget and move on. You take a little vacation, just a week, to get back on track. Spending your time everywhere, but the usual scouting spots. It is better not to be a regular. You are a man, but that damn vagina between your legs still makes you a vulnerable one. People will have more reasons to report suspicious someone if they're gay, trans, or of color. (Choose your difficulty setting.)

So it is kinda understandable that you never saw that guy before. His looks are quite unique. He has a tattoo, too. Easy to remember. Hope you won't see him ever again.

After that week, you come back to town. The desert is beautiful, but money is not endless.

You stand by some bar table in the corner of the club, watching the room. Your favorite song is playing, you move your hips to the bit while thinking.

This one is too young. This one is obviously a poser. This one already has someone.

Sparse. Maybe changing venues soon won't be a bad idea.

A sudden scent hits you. Guh— you won't mistake that for anything. You cover your drink and turn sharply to see him. He stands closer than you expected; it makes you jump. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice.

“Hola.” He purrs.

You move away. “The fuck you doing here?” He leans onto the table too. “Same thing as you. Hunting.”

You frown. “You do. I don’t ‘hunt’. I scout.”

“Call it whatever you want, but really... It is the same thing. You are a predator.” He reaches out to take your drink. You let him take a sip.

“I’m not. Fuck off. There’s nobody here anyway; I gotta go.” You shake your leg in tension.

“I like that one.” He points at a girl who looks barely 18. “She’s alone, drinking, looks too young to be here, and probably is.”

“And?” You ask.

“And?” He scoffs. “She won’t notice how I will put some K in her drink, and then I’ll drive her out and rape her and then burn her body.” He talks casually.

You shiver in discomfort.

He keeps talking.

“I always pick young ones. Very easy targets.” He chuckles, still watching the girl.

“That’s why you picked me?” You mumble.

“¡Sí! I thought you looked suspicious, but I couldn’t tell why. Now I see that you preyed on me too... Why, by the way?” He turns to you.

You shift your posture uncomfortably. “You look rich and old. That shirt was Gucci; I could see that from a mile away. You really should be more stealthy.”

“Yeah? And you look like a sissy slut. Thought you were a man.” He teases you.

You show him your teeth. “Well, since you’re bi, why complaining?”

“I’m not bi. I’m gay. I get off on the power, mostly… when it’s a girl.” He takes another sip.

You turn to him fully. “Was that drink even yours?”

He shrugs. “I thought it was yours.”

You both were silent for a bit.

“We’re worthless.” You prop your head on your hands.

You watch the girl that he spotted leave the club.

“There she goes. You lost her.” You follow her with your eyes.

“It’s fine. I like talking to you more anyway.” He finishes your drink. “Want anoth—”

He is interrupted by some white fella coming right up to your table and almost yelling, “Dude, get off of him; he’s taken!”

You both are confused for a second. The guy is clearly really drunk. Looks bland, like British food.

You look at the freak you've been talking to; he looks back at you and winks. Okay, what plan do you have, sir?

“He is not taken, and I’m not trying to take—”

Guy interrupts him again.

“He is clearly uncomfortable! Are there not enough bitches in your country?!”

Before this derails, you decide to speak up.

“He is my fuck buddy! We're actually just looking for a third.” You lean forward, all fake flirty.

Guy looks flattered. “Oh, yeah? Uh… Sorry! Then— Uh…” He tries to speak through a drunken haze.

Old man glances at you, grinning.

You keep pushing.

“Come on! You’re cute! Thanks for trying to protect me. There are a lot of bad guys around! You want to drink with us?”

“S-sure, man.” He mumbles.

Your new creep friend is glowing with something evil. “Then I’ll go get us something!”

He walks off, leaving you to keep glazing that drunken dummy.

He comes back with three drinks. He gives everyone their own, because one is clearly already laced.

You two kept feeding the guy booze. His name is apparently Dave, but why would that matter? You don’t even know your new crime partner’s name!

The rich freak drives you three to some shitty motel and makes you go and rent a room while they wait.

You come back with a key. You go up to the room quickly.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

Your crime partner lays Dave on the bed. Taking poor man’s clothes off. You notice a big knife on your friend’s belt. It wasn’t there before. Lube in his pocket? Wait, you’re not actually fucking that guy, are you?

You stand by the door awkwardly.

Dave clearly changed his mind. Of course, he was just too drunk to say “no” when in the club. Now he’s too high to resist. He is trying, though.

“Hold him.” Your partner commands.

You don’t move.

“Hold him.” He repeats.

You walk around the bed and hold the guy's wrists together while your friend zip-ties him to the bed. He grins and giggles. You let go when he’s done and step aside.

“Bring a towel.” The man commands again.

You go to the bathroom to quickly take one. He gags the poor guy with it before actually… getting to it.

You wanted to look away, but it's like a car crash. A poor guy tore his throat while trying to yell. His ass bled even though your partner used lube. He was just too rough. You had to turn away when he was choking the guy to death, though. You started crying. You shouldn’t be here.

Fuck around and find out? You did. Honestly, whatever else happened was a blur. You sat on the floor, dissociating silently. The man taps your shoulder.

“Ay.” He says.

You turn around, shivering.

He gives you what seems to be Dave's belongings.

“This is yours.” He sounds so calm.

Your hands shake, but you take everything.

“And…” He takes an extra out of his back pocket. It looks like a lot of money. “This too.”

You take that too, putting stuff in your pockets and trying not to sob. One sob breaks out, though. Stranger pats your head.

“It’s fine. You can go. I’ll take care of the rest.” He says.

You get up and run to the door, trying not to look at the body. You're frantically trying to unlock the door, but you fail.

He grunts and walks over. You let go of the door and back into the wall right next to it, covering your face.

You feel his hands rubbing your shoulders.

“Hey! You’re okay. If I really wanted to do this to you, I already would.” His voice is soft and kind. Too soft. Too kind.

The smell of him is poison. You feel nauseous. You will never be able to smell lavender again. Who else smells like that anyway? Lavender, musk, and however axe deodorant smells. Now also sweat and blood.

“Are you listening?” He asks again.

You just tremble, not able to say much.

“Okay, listen. You go outside and sit in the car while I take care of this mess. Then we will drive into the desert and dump the body. Then I will drive you home. You clearly can’t go by yourself.” He speaks very clearly and slowly, making sure you understand.

“I-I— I don’t— I don’t have a— h-home.” You’re barely able to speak, choking on your sobs.

He frowns.

“Fine. Go to the car.” He gives you the keys.

Like, you won’t just drive away?

Yeah, you won’t.

You sit in the passenger seat, sobbing.

He puts the heavy body in the trunk, and you two drive away. You run out of tears by the time you reach the place he wanted to dump the body. He just throws it off a cliff. It was wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon. He dumps the rest of the sheets too.

As if anyone will look for that guy... If they ever investigated anything, that fucker would already be in prison. Along with you.

He comes back; he doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive, and you actually fall asleep soon. Too exhausted to stay up.

You wake up when he picks you up and carries you inside a house. You don’t move; you let him do it. He lays you on a spacious couch and covers you with a couch blanket. You still don’t move, but you don’t pretend to be asleep either.

He walks away and comes back with a glass of water, which he sets in front of you on the coffee table. Then he leaves upstairs. In his room, probably.

Too tired, you take the water, but then set it down before drinking. You wouldn’t wanna be next. You turn away and try to sleep more.

It isn’t a problem; you are too tired to stay alert.

You wake up when it's bright. Seemingly untouched. You sit up. Water is still in the same place.

You look around. His house is huge. Pretty too. You hear his footsteps. He walks into the living room with some breakfast. He sets it in front of you.

“You really should drink that water.” He sits down on one of the chairs across.

You look up at him, scared.

“I would already kill you by now; come on.” He throws a hand up, annoyed.

You look away and take the plate.

“Really, what did you think we were going to do to that guy?” He chuckles. “Or you just didn’t think the sausage was really made that way?”

You don’t respond, but eat and drink.

He nods and looks you up and down.

“I’m Lalo.”

You clear your throat.

“Y/N.”

He nods again. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” Lalo scratches his chin. “Well, y/n, why don’t you have a home?”

You swallow your food before responding, “Safer that way.”

He laughs at you.

“Nah. It’s not.”

You blush. “And you would know?”

“Baby, I was born into this. I was doing it before you were born. I know.” He grins proudly.

“Don’t call me that.” You point your fork at him.

“Stay here.” He ignores your request. “I have extra bedrooms.”

“No.” You finish your food and put the plate down. “I’m leaving, and we will never see each other again.”

“Querido, America is too small for that! You’ll have to skip the country.” Lalo shrugs.

“Who are you? Really?”

Lalo raised his eyebrows playfully and said, “Nobody. Just a friend.”

“Yeah…” You relax in your seat.

“Seriously, though, stay. I’ll pay for everything you need.”

“And I give you?...”

“Sex and maybe...” Lalo responds, “We can go out like yesterday again. Just… I want you to help and not cry in the corner.”

You frown, thinking.

He keeps talking.

“Or you can come back to your old life and occasionally bump into me, knowing you got blood on your hands now and that nobody will ever be by your side anymore—”

You interrupt him.

“Nobody was by my side before.” You mumble.

Lalo grins and leans forward.

“Then let's be friends.”

#better call saul #bcs #better call saul x reader #bcs x reader #better call saul smut #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca x reader #cnc tw #cnc ftm #lalo salamanca x ftm reader #bcs smut #my fic

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akaikali · 6 months ago

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TMAGP EP 15 REACTION (SPOILERS)

I have never felt more awkward than that entire first interaction between Sam, Celia, and Alice. Not just Alice though, idk why but I feel like Sam and Celia are a bit awkward too??? Maybe that's what new relationships are like but like....why do I feel like Sam definitely likes Celia more than she likes him???

"A baby. A human." GONNA DIE IN A CORNER WHY IS THIS SO AWKWARD

"I said babies were cool!" Alice Dyer how I love you

Stop why is this case recording making me hungry 😭😭😭

This matriarch is interesting....hmm....OH OKAY SO THIS JUST. THIS JUST STRAIGHT UP THE HUNT AND THE SLAUGHTER HUH. I THINK A COMBINATION OF THE TWO.

Lady Mowbray...A name to remember, I suppose.

HELLO???? SHE'S JUST??? THERE???? CELIA MY GIRL.

IM SORRY THE TRANSCRIPT "they are not fur babies. They are what turns up when someone says 'release the hounds'" IM SCREAMING

Celia really isn't scared, huh? WHAT THE FUCK WHY DOES GWEN KNOW LADY MOWBRAY.

What is UP with Celia???? It's like. Everyone was sus of her, but she seems to be against Lady Mowbray, who seems to be. Yknow. Evil??? From my understand, she's wither dealt with worse than Lady Mowbray or she knows who Lady Mowbray is.

Cheshire Bouchard??? Huh???? I'm assuming that's a location?? Kind of like saying "the rich family from uptown"

Oh god. Why does Luke sound hot. No no I cannot do this. "Weedy git" PLEASEEEE.

HELLO???? HOLY SHIT??? IS THAT THE DROWNING VICTIM FROM MAG 195??? I don't think she's ERROR because she's named in the credits...But amazing performance from her VA holy shit????

Is she talking about the monster from the ocean ep??? What was it, tmagp 11 or smthn???

OH MY GOD IS SHE ERROR???? SHE HAS A TAPE RECORDER???? WHAT THE FUCK????

I considered maybe she was Allison Leshi but the tape recorder made me throw that right out the window

HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE HELL OH MY GOD???

Dear God. Poor Alice holy shit that must have been traumatic as hell. And knowing her she's not going to tell anyone especially not Sam. I hope she talks to Gwen or Celia or Teddy or SOMEONE but I feel so worried that Sam might brush her off.

Also don't think I didn't notice that Luke's band is called "Dredgerman" which has to do with bodies of ocean and then Alice meets a drowning victim. I don't entirely trust Luke, even though he's hot.

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp ep 15 #tmagp ep 15 spoilers #the magnus protocol spoilers #tmagp reaction

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cursed-man-prayers · 2 years ago

Text

High Infidelity is about Miss Americana.

Notes before we begin: First, I can’t post screenshots from the doc bc Netflix, but I have pulled direct quotes and rewatched scenes over and over as I wrote this analysis. The more I watched, the more this theory made sense.

Second, while I obviously don’t know what Taylor Swift’s relationship with her dad is like, the clips in Miss American plus the song tolerate it are enough to convince me that he’s not/wouldn’t be accepting of Taylor being queer. There’s a reason she’s a mama’s girl. This is a Scott Swift hate account.

Let’s begin

Verse One

Lock broken,

A common interpretation of this lyric is the invasion of privacy that is someone reading your diary/journal. Having a locked diary is also something most common with young girls (only girls get privacy, sorry lads), and in Miss Americana, the first diary that Taylor shows in the first scene while she says the first words of the film is a diary that has a lock, and there’s also a closeup of another diary with a lock, as well as the words “bitch session.” There’s also the very common trope/reality of parents reading your diary. Speaking from personal experience, this can genuinely be traumatic, especially taking into consideration the next two words.

Slur Spoken

Seeing as Taylor is a white woman, I genuinely don’t know how else this can be interpreted besides a homophobic slur being spoken. $!u and b*!tch are derogatory, but that’s not the same thing as being a slur. Also, I’m not going to justify the “she’s talking about slurring words while drunk!!” interpretation bc that makes less sense than thinking the slur is “whore.” (I think the diary I mentioned that says “bitch session” is further proof that Taylor doesn’t consider ‘bitch’ to be a slur, even though she has called out the misogynistic way men use it in music.)

Wound open, game token

The person who is breaking this lock and speaking this slur and opening this wound is using Taylor’s pain as a means to get a prize. “You play stupid games you win stupid prizes” (MAATHBP), “You knew you won, so what’s the point of keeping score?” (hoax).

I didn't know you were keeping count

In the Man music video, during the tennis match, Scott Swift is playing the scorekeeper. This line is repeated multiple times in the song. The context of the repetition does change and develop throughout the song.

Rain soaking, blind hoping

I think this refers to the Lover era and how Taylor was not able to come out (specifically that video where she’s talking about ME! and looks sad as shit). I think it’s also a reference to Midnight Rain, rain being a metaphor for unexpected, unseen change, and also the isolation of staying hidden.

You said I was freeloading / I didn't know you were keeping count

As someone with a dad, I can confirm that this is very dad-coded. Like, I can’t think of a context in Taylor’s life where a romantic partner would’ve said this to her, especially considering how idk, rich and successful she’s been since she was a teenager? While I don’t think her dad would ever be justified in saying this to her either, it could be a reference to him throwing his role in her career in her face, the way we see in Miss Americana.

Chorus

This is where things come together in terms of being about Miss Americana.

High infidelity / Put on your records and regret me / I bent the truth too far tonight / I was dancing around, dancing around it

In order to produce a consumable product (the Lover journals) around her and her art, she had to dance around the full truth. The entries were meticulously chosen and most likely edited. In Miss Americana, the segment where she “comes out” as a democrat feels like it might’ve been a different kind of coming out story, especially when you factor in the creation of You Need To Calm Down. It comes across as extremely personal, and while there are multiple factors leading to the experience being emotionally charged for Taylor, I do think that her own queerness is one of those factors. The entire documentary feels like she’s dancing around a bent truth.

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Putting on headphones is shorthand for ignoring someone. “Burn my city” in the context of how Taylor equates her (former) lover with *a certain city* feels like an indication that the subject of the song did something to sabotage and burn down the relationship. I think this is a reference to how her career and the people controlling it (such as her father, but others as well) ruined the love she’s been singing about since reputation.

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

This also goes back to Midnight Rain (“my town was a wasteland, full of cages, full of fences”)

I was dancing around, dancing around it

Taylor has used dancing as a literary device throughout her discography. I believe it’s typically a metaphor for queerness.

Post Chorus

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

This goes back to the diaries from Miss Americana. This is Taylor being confronted about a journal entry from an April 29th where she wrote something gay. When *her dad* saw it, it led to a slur being spoken.

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

This refers to the segment in Miss Americana that is allegedly all about Joe. Call It What You Want plays over a montage of videos filmed by an unseen lover. The only clip actually featuring Joe in the entire film is a single moment where Taylor and Joe look vaguely excited to see each other after one of the Rep shows. The way she wrote and sung this line makes it seem like charting constellations in some dude’s eyes is the last thing she wants to do.

Verse Two

Storm coming, good husband / Bad omen / Dragged my feet right down the aisle

This very much sounds like Taylor being forced to be romantically linked in a traditional, heterosexual way. The storm coming and bad omen are what led to her being pushed into this, likely the media storm that happened in 2016. It ties together the lines about pickets fences and how the rain referenced in the first verse is connected to Midnight Rain, because, as we learned with the very first track on Midnights, Taylor is not interested in 1950’s shit.

At the house lonely,

“To a house not a home all alone ‘cause nobody’s there,” Dear Reader

good money,

“the jokes weren’t funny, I took the money” from YOYOK is just one example of how the money comes at the cost of herself and who she is and her worth as a human being…

I'd pay if you'd just know me / Seemed like the right thing at the time

…but now she’s regretting paying that price, wishing that she could be truly known. It seemed like the right thing, but she’s realizing that it wasn’t. Alternatively, she regrets coming out to her and the price she now has to pay of knowing his love was conditional. She paid the price for being known. Also, during the clips that play during the segment allegedly about Joe, Taylor is singing Call It What You Want, specifically the lyric “At least I did one thing right” which is… devastating in this context. She also says:

But I wasn’t happy in the way that I was trained to be happy…It was happiness without anyone else’s input. It was just, we were happy.

Anyway she doesn’t seem happy anymore.

Pre Chorus

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough

This creates a strong connection to tolerate it. I feel like this lyric is the thesis of that song. Again, this is a very dad-coded lyric. It’s the slow realization that a parent’s love can be conditional. It’s like when a queer kid comes out and a parent says “I still love you, but…” There’s other contexts where that phrase could exist, but it’s an extremely common queer experience.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? / Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

I think this could refer to the narrative of Joe Alwyn being William Bowery (which is suspect at best and criminal at worst). She has to say that Joe helped her write devastating breakup songs like exile and champagne problems to keep up the narrative that they are in a VERY HAPPY relationship.

The next new lyric is in the third chorus and let’s just say I have thoughts about it.

Put on your records and regret meeting me

THIS LYRIC HAS BEEN DRIVING ME MAD FOR THREE MONTHS. In the other choruses she says “regret me,” but she changes it here to be “regret meeting me” in the last chorus. “Regret me” implies regretting the existence of Taylor Swift. It’s the people credited with kick-starting her career (such as her father!!!) putting on your records, a double-entendre for her albums + the awards and accolades she has earned for those albums. But! In this chorus! The lyric is! Regret meeting me! The promo for Midnights focused heavily on “meet me at midnight,” the concept that she would be showing who she really is with the album, so much so that people thought she might be coming out with this album. While I think this lyric is a reference to that narrative and the fear that her fans won’t get her or won’t like her after listening to Midnights, I also think it is about how her dad regrets learning who she really is, and how he therefore IGNORES IT by listening to the albums she wrote about me. This is the only lyric in the chorus that changes, and it’s seemingly such a small change, a single word added to the line, but that’s what makes it so massive. Because why would she change this lyric if not to completely change the meaning of the line? It’s drawing a distinction between regretting someone’s existence and regretting knowing the truth about them.

Oh, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

And it's never enough, it's never enough

I think the phrasing here implies that Taylor feels like she can never be good enough to earn the love she needs and deserves. This ties it, again, to the intro of Miss Americana where she’s going through her diaries and talks about how her main goal in life was to be a good girl.

Outro

The entire first chorus is repeated, and we have a new perspective.

You said I was freeloading

When it comes to this line specifically, I think it refers to the conversation about Taylor’s desire to speak publicly about politics, in which her dad throws in her face how he hired armored cars, essentially saying that she owes him something. It’s just phrased in an odd way and it makes everyone uncomfy.

I didn't know you were keeping count / But oh, you were keeping count

The repetition of the first chorus at the end of the song implies that this song is cyclical. It’s a loop that she’s trapped in. (If you put this song on repeat and turn up the crossfade, you can listen on a seamless loop). Tolerate It does the same thing. Repetition also draws attention to the lyrics while recontextualizing them. The last lyric (“but oh, you were keeping count”) is this acknowledgment that her relationship with this person was/is transactional.

What about the name of the song?

Okay, I’m convinced the only reason anyone would ever think this is a song about cheating is because of the title. Obviously, the primary definition of the word infidelity is cheating on a romantic or sexual partner. Nothing else in the song indicated cheating. SO. OBVIOUSLY. I GOOGLED. THE DEFINITION. TO SEE. WHAT. AN ALTERNATIVE. MIGHT. BE

unbelief in a particular religion, especially Christianity.

Jesus Fucking CHrist. Taylor Swift has called herself a Christian, and she has also written songs with overt religious themes, typically borrowing from Christianity specifically (Don’t Blame Me; False God; Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve; Soon You’ll Get Better). While I know that you can be queer and Christian, it is not unreasonable to conclude that coming out as queer to a conservative Christian (parent) would be considered a lack of belief in Christianity. Infidelity literally means “unfaithful.” To many people, Christianity and queerness are unreconcilable, to the point that they believe accepting yourself as queer can lead to you going to hell. While they won’t say this outloud, many Christians put “homosexuality” into a higher category of sin, meaning that being queer is HIGHLY UNCHRISTIAN, HIGHLY UNFAITHFUL, HIGH INFIDELITY.

One last thing. Miss Americana was released at midnight PST. Which is 3am EST. High Infidelity is a 3am track. So, yeah.

tl;dr

High Infidelity is about being considered unfaithful for being who you are. It’s about dying slowly because you are not loved (enough) for who you are. It’s about how the lies you’ve been forced to tell have forced you to be unfaithful to yourself. It’s about Miss Americana.

#gaylor #gaylor swift #taylor swift lyric analysis #high infidelity #midnights 3am edition #midnights #miss americana

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punkeropercyjackson · 9 months ago

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Alr i'm gonna assume the best of newer and younger Pjo fans spreading misinfo on punk!Percy and by extension irl punk history and culture by guessing you guys aren't doing it on purpose and were just lied to about us so here's a bunch of debunks and clear ups on punk and why Percy is which also works as a sort of list of tips on how to write punk characters,canon and headcanon and completely original

So the obvious one out of the way first:Percy is actually not canonically a skater boy!There have been exactly two lines of this context in the entire franchise and one was in Som when he mentioned skateboarding once and then never again and the second was in Moa when Piper said he and i quote 'looked like a skater'.Sorry to past cishet Pipes but that's not a thing and Avril Lavigne making a cisheteronormative lyric that's extremely underservingly stuck around for forever dosen't mean she was right that he is one,it means she had internalized homophobia and gender stereotypes and no actual knowledge on alt subcultures because again,'looking like a skater' isn't a thing,it's a sport and not an aesthetic

With that,here's what actually makes Percy a punk:He was a bully beater from a young age and it escalates into full blown direct action for the whole saga,hates authority figures not for the sake of it but because he knows from experience that they're almost universally awful,is anti-corruption including his own by fighting against his intrusive thoughts to turn evil,does activism by helping fix the greco-roman mythos world system whenever he gets the chance to no matter how small,advocates for the rights of less fortunate people both mythical and human,hates rich people,fits entierly out of the box conformity in all aspects simply from the way he is even disregarding his demigohood,respects all minorities and is extremely kind to kids to the point that he adopted Nico and Hazel as his younger siblings and pseudo-kids because they don't really have parents(Hades/Pluto is abusive + Maria and Marie are dead).He fills out every punk requirement to a T,including being part of a marginalized group since he's poor and mentally disabled(audhd with dyslexia,bpd and ptsd)

He was a hero and Luke was a villain because they both hated the gods for traumatizing them and had nonpretty trauma responses from it but Percy still tried his best to stay kind not for his own sake but for his mom and the innocents in the world he knew didn't deserve cruelty and he provided and still does a safe and loving space for children specifically because he was a troubled but good kid once too and wants to be the positive adult figure for them he didn't get to have except Sally.Luke choose nihilism and that grew into turning a serial child abuser with bigoted ideals(his biggest targets being women and poc and in Kelli's case both)and fascist tactics.They weren't 'two sides of the same coin' and they're not even the same currency-Percy's a punk,Luke's a pig

Romantic attraction to someone based off them being 'ideal' by society's standards goes against punk beliefs!Our whole thing is nonconformity and that changing your true self to fit in makes you a sellout so this is why Perachel was canon and honestly i'd go as far as to call the 'outcast punk dude x perfect prep girl' a myth made up by normies who don't wanna date us for our actual personalities and just think we look hot so they objectify us.Related,it's ooc for Percy to be written to use kinds of flirting and dating treatments purely because 'it's what guys are like' since it's canon they hate traditional masculinity and consider it a burden they only force on themselves as a defense mechanism from trauma of being mocked for being 'not normal'

Ascention to godhood or into a titan inherently disquilify being punk and is an insult to irl punks.You literally can't be punk AND in control of a corrupted system,it's our lifestyle to fight them,not perpetuate them.This also applies to him dating deities,being rich in any way or an abuser.Dark Percy is Bootlicker Percy

Sorry to y'all who still think Hot Topic is a funny joke in 2024 of all years but they sold out to capitalism and conformity a loooooong time ago so Percy wouldn't be caught undead near that place and couldn't afford anything anyway because they've upped everything to rich people prices.He'd be going to thrift stores,family bussiness and small shops.Knowing how much free time he has probably knows how to DIY things that don't even exist and he buys all his games/consoles and legos secondhand

No Taylor Swift for him,her music's too corny and fabricated for him to not hate it but there's also how she's a huge bigot,a major bully and a whole ass poluter so🤷🏽‍♀️His favorite band is definitely My Chemical Romance but All Time Low,The Cure and Ramones are up there too

Please draw him with an actual battle jacket and proper piercings-By which i mean give it patches and a hoard of pins and draw it like a BATTLE JACKET,not a LEATHER jacket and actually google kinds of piercings instead of just slapping metal wherever onto him

He is NOT masc or an 'i'm too cool and edgy to like cutesy and kiddy things' type.Every single trans woman i've met in the Pjo fandom have said Percy's an egg and super femme and she does too much actual punk shit instead of trying to look the part to be a poser to care about her image anymore.She loves Polly Pocket,Warrior Cats,Animal Crossing,Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends,Bluey,Blues Clues,MLP,makeup,glitter,yk2/90s/80s toys,cats,Lo-Fi Beats,Cookie Monster and her second favorite color is pink,she loves naturally acting like a momdad and her gender fuckery includes a neopronouns hoard

Would most definitely have radicalized Nico and Hazel into goth punk and pastel goth punk if Rick let them be a proper trio and speaking from experience,it's entierly possible she does it completely on accident by making them want to be like her because of how nice and protective she is to them and what cool things she does

Few last points:She's definitely a heavy energy drinks consumer,a socialist,does vandalism,did actually super heavy research to go full punk once she realized she is and would never be friends with Harry Potter and in fact would probably kill him if they met since ACAB

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